Bistre
Last Details | |
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Death Age | 7 years 10½ months (Elder) |
Sex | Male |
Personality | Keen |
Breeding Records | |
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Death Age in Rollovers | 189 |
Pups Bred | 14 pups bred |
Looks | |
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Base | Khaki (1.99%) |
Base Genetics | Cool Medium I |
Eyes | Gray |
Skin | Dark |
Nose | Bistre |
Claws | Root |
Mutation | None |
Secondary Mutation | None |
Carrier Status | Unknown |
Variant | Default |
Markings | |
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Slot 1 | Dark Brown Agouti (100%) |
Slot 2 | White Dilution (100%) |
Slot 3 | White Nose Line (100%) |
Slot 4 | None |
Slot 5 | None |
Slot 6 | None |
Slot 7 | None |
Slot 8 | None |
Slot 9 | None |
Slot 10 | None |
Birth Stats | ||
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Strength | Speed | Agility |
Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
Wisdom | Smarts | Total |
Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
Birth Information | |
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Moon | Unknown |
Season | Unknown |
Biome | Unknown |
Biography
Second-in-command of Alsace, under his mate, Fenris
- Cast out of his pack as an adolescent, he met Fenris during her stay at the rescue. he helped her escape and together, they founded Alsace.
- Mate, Fenris.
- First litter: Two daughters, Salai and Potato.
- Second litter: One daughter, Lenrithlay.
- Two adopted daughters, Siddgeir and Pincoya.
His mother's muffled wails melted with his own confused whimpers as he was unceremoniously clawed and dragged by the jeering invaders.
Slogging paws
His own pained rasps
And finally the welcome sting of dirt rubbed into his wounds before he lost conciousness.
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Late spring, 3 months later
The muskrat was completely oblivious to the malevolent gaze trined on it. Bistre flicked away his sympathy at the creature before him; it wouldn't ever return to its family. But that was for the better, was it not? Why should this vermin have the right to such a luxury, when he himself had been torn away from such a thing?
It has been a whole season, he reminded himself incompassionately. So, so many moons and suns and stars had risen and glowed and set since the pathetic party of intruders had infiltrated his pack, his leader's judgement, his very heart as he was ripped away from all he had. So easy, he thought. So, so easy, to persuade an alpha to make such choices. No, not an alpha; he was undeserving of that title. He was weak, a coward, to allow those strangers to take over.
So easy, he snarled to himself, to be so weak.
The muskrat took off then, alerted to Bistre's presence by his dark snarls.
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Early summer, 2 months later
The wriggling mouse was nothing more than a plaything at this moment; Bistre was fed, having successfully hunted before, and his spirits were unusually lifted. He flipped it over, mushed it lightly as it speaked, not in pain, but out of fear. Bistre grinned and let it go somewhat sheepishly, slightly sorry for the way he had treated it. No doubt, it would be warier from now on.
The sunset cast a welcome glow over his snowy fur. He was growing to like this prairie; it was welcomingly hot, as he padded over to a small copse of trees that marked the deciduous forest from where he had come.
He was close to a yearling now! He had come so far from teh sad, screaming, gangly young adolescent he had been 6 moons ago. His eyes caught something near to the horizon, ripping him free of his thoughts.
A pitying, small selection of planks tied cruelly together, no doubt by some human. It didn't look out of place amongst the barren surroundings. Tail lifted up, he trotted into the sunset before he could think any better of it. The place seemed far from dangerous, and there could be something interesting there.
It was ironic; just how right he'd been.
Naturally, he didn't understand human jabber. He couldn't gather what this place was from the few haggard, yowling human males gathered by the wooden shack. The real gem was located behind the building.
A yard, sectioned off with barbed wire, in which a few pathetic domestics were cringing away from him the moment they set eyes on him. Too meek to look at him, they screwed their eyes short, brimming with tears. Too broken to fend him off, they stayed silent, aside from the occasional whimper. Dog speech was much simpler than that of wolves, so Bistre would still be able to understand their words-- if they opened their mouths, that is. Hilarious. There was, however, one lean, ginger form who stared at him, not quite making eye contact, but still huffing at the sight of him. Or maybe it was at the sight of her yardmates, in amusement, so terrified of this silly little wolf that couldn't even reach them.
Either way, he decided to give this one a shot.
"Hey."
She looked at him directly in the eyes at this. Surprisingly, she seemed to speak wolf, not dog.
"Hm? Why are you here, wolf? You don't seem dangerous," she sauntered over, dropping down into a play-bow. Bistre cocked his head.
"And you don't seem a dog," he ventured, returning the friendly gesture. "And I'm not entirely sure why your friends here are so desparately scared, either."
"Dogs will be dogs," she sighed.
"So you're not a dog?"
"Do I sound or look like one?" She grinned. "No, I'm more of a wolfdog. Used to be wild, before I was dragged here as a puppy."
Her words stung, as his own memories did.
"Dragged from your home? I should know something about that," he looked away breifly, but not before he saw the pang of realisation in the she-wolf's eyes.
Alarm shot through him suddenly, at the sound of human trodding. He shot round the corner, out of sight, as the humans came to beckon the dogs in... for... feeding, probably? He wasn't sure.
A few minutes later, he smelt the she-wolf before he saw her.
"Hey! Wolf, still here? I can smell you."
Bistre slunk back over, crouching this time.
"Yeah, coast clear," she she-wolf added more gently. Then, suddenly puplike with excitement, "You know, you're the first wolf aside from my mother I ever met."
Bistre stifled a barking laugh. "Huh, really? That's putting a lot of pressure on me, you know that, right? I've gotta give you a good impression of our kind, so you don't end up like your friends," he bared his teeth, teasingly.
"Hm. That should be easy to avoid. I'm not that pathetic," she pondered for a second, then added, "What's your name, anyway? I'm Fenris."
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Midsummer, 1 month later
"Fenris?"
"...Fen?"
Silence.
"Fennie!"
A furred head finally poked out from around the corner. Followed by a furred paw, promptly batting him on the head through a gap in the barbed wire.
" 'Fennie'?! Do you have any idea how derogatory I find that?
Bistre widened his eyes in mock-guilt. "Nope! Frankly I don't care."
Fenris sighed, in mock-irritation. "I suppose I have no choice but to tolerate it, since it's from you."
She seemed to remember something then, ears shooting up, and pawed at the wire again.
"Hey, can I ask you a favour?" Her tone was disconcerting.
"...Yeah? I think?"
"You see this hole, where the wire loosened from the ground?"
"Mhm?"
"It was never driven in deep enough. The barbed fence, I mean. Humans didn't consider it necessary, since no domestic dog would ever try to escape," she trailed off, as realisation set into Bistre's eyes.
"That." he said, "That is why I think you're a genius, Fennie. That's great! I can help you out."
Fenris visibly perked up at that, and they set to digging immediately.
"Humans are away today. Took the dogs with them," she added, "and I'm not sure why they left me, but I'm glad of it. Anyways, the point is, we won't have to worry about being caught. I can already basically taste freedom!"
"Fen, that's dirt. You're tasting the dirt we're digging up."
"Whatever."
Present day- 2 years old, midsummer
"Fennie."
He trotted towards Fenris, who was sitting beneath the entrance to their den with Pincoya, the newest pup addition to their pack. Bistre and Fenris's daughter, Salai, was just behind him, and Pincoya jumped up and followed after her as they walked away, so Bistre guessed that whatever conversation Fenris was having with the pup, must've been finished. Fenris stood up to greet him.
"Good morning. Haven't seen you today, yet," she said. "Something happen? I was just telling Pincoya about how Alsace was formed."
He shook his head and grinned at her. "No. We brought back a doe again! Isn't that cool? We'll have a feast!"
Decorations and Background |
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Background
Root Cave
3 uses left
3 uses left