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I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
First a crown to assuage the Yeti’s ego, then a snack to fill his belly; part of her worries that the fuzzy white giant will want sex next, in order to relieve his loins. Head, gut, pelvis. Which is a terrifying thought, and something she wants no part of. They all scatter, and some with companions let their friends do the hard work. Wessex can’t help but roll her eyes at the whole scenario. They, who already have one animal friend, are greedy enough to seek another whilst those of them who have none try to gain companionship.
At least this task is easier. The large mare pivots purposefully on her hindquarters, heading straight back to the carcass from which she scavenged the antlers. The elk’s innards are already eaten, the rest of him in the process of dethawing. It smells a little funky, too. But she can’t imagine that the Yeti is that particular about what he eats, so long as it’s meat. With a stiff leg firmly grasped between her teeth, Wessex hauls the body back to the group. It seems she’s not the only one who found a dead creature in the snow and ice, but Wessex is not dismayed at this peculiar coincidence. At least the stallion who brought the other frozen stag didn’t go stealing her find - there would have been blows if he’d tried to do that. Perhaps, she mused, there was a rather old and forgetful (aging together) pack of wolves roaming these mountains, or a snow leopard interrupted several times in the middle of dinner.
Whatever the case, she spits her offering out before the Yeti, running her tongue over her teeth to dislodge any stray hairs, and then turns back to rejoin the group - which seems to have grown noticeably smaller. Maybe the ones who left the fools to their tasks were the smart ones, for only one could win the prize.
Well. No matter, that is often the way of life. Bring on whatever comes next.
W E S S E X
Seeking a Griffin. No prior refusals
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --
