Skoll

It was evening, and the sun was starting to set on the distant horizon. Eilidh kept her head out of the den on this day, feeling a little better about it day by day. Snow covered the ground, but it rather clear. Everyone was out still, and she was rather alone at the moment. She didn’t really like it, but what could she do?

She whined to herself as she laid her head on her white paws. Snow wasn’t so bad. It was cold, but nothing intolerable so far today. She had let her paws touch it, and she stared at the stuff, trying to figure it out. It was then that a little fat bird plopped near her on a dead stem, peeping about.

Her eyes grew wide, blinking as the thing peeped and peeped, moving back and forth. It was not the call of warning or panic, but she didn’t quite understand what it was trying to say. Her raw ears lifted. ”T-this one hears,” she says gently, and the bird flaps over to another stem a few feet away.

”W-wait!” she calls, patting the ground three times before crawling on the ground towards the bird. It bounces to another stem, and then another. She feels a compulsion to follow, and to listen to the calls. ”I w-want to unders-s-tand,” she replies, her body scraping against the snow, and feeling the urge to turn around. But…it had been so long since a bird talked to her. She had to follow.

The bird stops singing then, and she finds herself holding her breath. Why did it stop? Was something near?

The bird continues singing, and she is able to breathe again. It quickly flies away a few feet again, and Eilidh finds herself whining softly. Does she follow? It is getting further and further away, but she really wanted to understand the song.

Crawling on her belly still, she tries to follow. The taller grass made it difficult for her to move, and she found herself having to stop. For a moment, she was curled in a ball, considering her options with her paws in the snow.

Slowly, she lifts her head like a nervous turtle sticking its nose out of its shell. There is a sound that is not bird now, and she directs her eyes towards it. Eyes of grey fall on the young black pup, perhaps a little older than herself. She freezes, eyes blinking.

She thinks of what her brother would have her do. First, she sniffs the air for the sign of sickness. None of detected. His movements did not indicate the sickness either. Brother…he would have her…say something. She gulps.

”U-u-u-mmm…Are you h-h-ere for the bird t-t-oo?” she asked, her voice quiet and hesitant…she is not even sure if they will reach the other’s ears.

She gets a better look at him. Dark fur, mis-matched eyes…and is that a scar on his face? She gulped slightly to herself. He didn’t seem mean, exactly, but not really friendly either. One thing she felt was certain, was that he did not look like he had the sickness.

He said that he was following the sound too. This got her raw ears to perk a little bit. They were missing quite a bit of fur, and they were red and cracked. Swollen from constant over grooming. The air felt colder there, and sometimes it was painful to be touched by a breeze.

Curiosity won out.

”D-do you know w-what it is saying?” she asked, moving her nervous head to look towards the bird, still chirping away. It seemed a happy song at least. Nothing wrong. Nothing anxious. Yet, she still did not know exactly what it meant. Did this stranger happen to know?

The other stranger looks at her, and Eilidh feels a bit self-conscious. She knows that her ears are raw…but she cannot see them herself. She knows they are different, but cannot really see how bad they look. They are missing fur all over, and spots are crusted over with scabs. She knows they hurt, but the desire to rid herself of the vile goop and grossness simply takes her over.

”N-no, but I can a-ask,” she says softly.

She can, however, see the missing fur on her ankles and legs. She offers them to the birds. Offering! She gulps, and slowly reaches down to rip a bit of fur out of her legs. The young one grimaces as she does so, holding a small amount in her mouth before placing it on the ground gently.

She backs away then, grey eyes looking from the stranger back to the bird.

”T-this is for your s-song. Take this, t-teach me,” she calls out, though not much louder than she was before. A step is taken backwards, and her form hits the ground as she makes herself as small as possible, wondering if the singing bird was going to come her way. So far, it simply stays put, chirping away as if it doesn’t even realize she was there.

It did not even occur to her to ever ask anyone else to offer their fur to the birds. Most did not even hold the same…interest? Fear? Reverence? Of the birds. But Eilidh remembers. She remembers the warning call. How the bird tried to tell her there was something wrong…how there was danger. She knows this call well now. She can identify it with ease.

But the other calls? They have been harder to figure out.

She cared not about the fur missing from her legs. How so much was gone. How it was cold on the skin. Raw. Red in some places. She had plenty of fur, and could always find more if needed for her offerings.

At least that is what she thought, not knowing or realizing she could permanently damage herself so fur would grow no more.

He asked then, if he needed to do anything, and she was almost bewildered by this question. Grey eyes dashed back and forth. Never had she been asked such a thing. She honestly did not know the answer. She moved slowly next to him, and pushed herself against the ground, flat like a pancake.

”That s-should be enough. Be s-still,” she asked gently, watching the bird. She does a soft call, that almost sounds bird like…but not quite. She furrows her brows in frustration as the bird continues to chirp exactly where it was.

”I am n-not good at it y-y-et,” she says with a hint of shame in her voice. ”Their voice are just so d-d-different,” she looks her eyes up at the other. ”You t-t-ry? Like this?” she makes the call again, wondering if the other would be better at it than her.