Little creatures in a big world . . .

Enter the Hollow | Plot Introduction

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The castle was large. It seemed unending when she could barely walk, stumbling over paws too big and wondering what lay beyond the next corner that she could never quite reach. She thought she would never see all of it, unable to conquer the labyrinth of dark corridors or the unending stairs that spiraled into the heavens. There came a day when she walked more and stumbled less, though the dark and the stairs remained obstacles that, while not insurmountable, still posed a challenge. Then, as her legs became a little longer and her heart a little braver, the castle began to seem much smaller than it once did. She still had not scoured every corner of it, the darkest depths left unknown, but she felt that she knew it’s cracks and strange whistles better now, as well as anyone could (or so she thought, as puppies always do). It was not so vast and grand as it once seemed. In time, even the sprawling forest began to lose its edge, its secrets uncovered and stories unraveled. She found herself hungry for what lay beyond.

So she struck out, as children always do, fighting her way through unturned snow and not looking back once at heavy boughs and quiet castle. Home would be there when she was ready to return, but she knew deep down that this land was hers to discover and that all of the world beyond was her playground. The world was white and the snow was hard to break through beyond the shelter of the world she’d known thus far, but she kept her eyes on towering walls in the distance that looked like mother’s teeth, sharp and long but no danger to her. They simply existed, as mother’s teeth simply existed. In time, she found where those with longer strides than hers had walked, and she follows the path they cut while keeping her eyes on the gaping mouth in the distance.

There were other things, along the way. Trees and rocks that caught her eye, but too far through the fields of snow for her to divert herself that particular day. This path was already here—so there must be something at the end of it, right? Something strange was all around her, the smell of people and things she had never seen. Something old curled delicately against the backdrop of teeth, and with one final push over a stubborn, slippery hill, she found an Old One before her. It towered much higher than any of the trees in her family’s wood, though it was hard to tell just how tall it was. As tall as the castle? As tall as the teeth in the distance? It was grand, and it was alone. It had been here much longer than any of them. It would be here long after they were gone.

She continues on, focused now on a new destination. The teeth were so much farther than she thought they would be, looming ever on in her vision but never seeming to grow any closer. Mist rolled in from the land beyond, obscuring their points from view. The Old One towered still, higher and higher the closer she came, her head tipping back until it hurt as she tried to find the top. Before longer, she found herself at the foot of one of its massive roots. Here she stood for a while, puzzling over how a single part of this tree was as thick as the trunks of titans in the forest she knew. This, without question, was something new.

Well! Time to climb it! Or—try. The slope was gentle and deceptive at first, luring her onto the incline. Then it jutted sharply up, something she ponders for some time before backing up and leaping with such CONFIDENCE at the next step on this perilous climb. She manages to hook her forelegs over, claws scrabbling at the rough bark for several seconds (that felt like MINUTES—she was hanging by a thread, here!). The pads of her paws were numb to sharp edges that cut into them as she struggles to hang on, to climb up, to do anything but the inevitable—but the inevitable always comes. The minutes are not minutes but seconds, and she falls back onto the slope ungracefully, ass over teakettle back down into the snow, which swallows her as if she had never been there at all. Her paws leave a smear of blood against the ice crusted along the top as she struggles to right herself, cheeks burning more out of anger than embarrassment—though.

It sure would be a shame if ANYONE had SEEN that!!!

The land was quiet, wrapped in the morning fog as the sun dimly illuminated the forest from behind rain clouds. The vapor drifted in between the pines, curling its tendrils around the branches before settling on the forest floor, enveloping the fallen leaves and rotting wood that lay there. All sound was swallowed, consumed by the fog as it gently covered the land. The air was moist, unpleasant to most, as it stuck to skin and dampened fur. 


A single area was pardoned from the fog however, as the embers of a small fire managed to keep the creeping tendrils away, evaporating them before they could touch the figure lying by the coals. The saber, cleaning her fur with long licks of her tongue, watched the border where the fog suddenly cleared, making a small ring around her and the fire pit. She continued cleaning her peach colored fur for a few minutes, her ears flicking back and forth, trying to hear anything through the fog.  She was unsuccessful, however, and soon stood, stretching her back legs as the honey brindling of her washed fur caught the meager light provided by the embers. She shook out her pelt before grabbing a leather knapsack that lay beside her, throwing it onto her back and securing it with a strap around her neck.

The slaver then padded off into the forest, her head lowered towards the ground as she sniffed the forest floor, guiding herself by smell rather than sight. As she inhaled the scent of mostly moisture and rot, she also picked up the fainter scents, scents of the animals that had passed there days before. But the saber was looking for her own smell and she let in guide her when she found it, moving through the trees like a ghost a she followed the scent trail.

She quickly found what she was looking for: a spring snare, made from a young pine, two carved trigger sticks and hand made rope. The trap would normally have been bent back, the sapling curved into a arch as two trigger sticks held it in place, and the rope placed in a loop near the ground, waiting for something to fall into its grasp so it could snap it up. This trap had been successful and it dangled a dead rabbit off of the ground, gently swinging in the draft that moved through the forest. The slaver chuckled, taking the rabbit down from the ropes grasp, and tucking it into her sack along with the rope and the two trigger sticks. She slung her pack onto her back once again, and she continued walking.

The saber thought as she moved, mostly of what other prey she might have in her two other traps. The next two were bigger, just the right size to snap and hold a medium sized wolf a foot of the ground, and she again chuckled to herself at the thought of having a slave or two to sell for profit. She didn't need any supplies, but the saber had been toying with the thought of getting another earring, just to show off to the other slavers that she had made a profit. She flicked her right ear then, barely feeling the brass loop that hung there, and her heart ached a little at the memory that it brought up. But the saber quickly pushed her feelings out of her mind and pulled her face into a neutral expression as she started to come upon her second trap.

The early afternoon had started out rather pleasantly as the sun forced its way through the brush of the forest below. Deer roamed through the low brush in to the open valleys, birds sang their chorus of tunes, and the rodents conversed in the treetops while nibbling on stray seeds and nuts they had found on the ground. It was a warmer than usual day, which was most likely why the entire wood seemed to be talking. Yet soon enough, the clouds rolled in and fog coated the lower valleys and crept up in to the hills of the neutral lands. A low rumble of thunder echoed through the silence of the hills and the once lively and chittering forest grew silent as every creature seemed to turn a head to listen to Mother Nature. As the afternoon rain drew from the clouds above, the stillness of the forest broke; small creatures running to their homes and nests to wait out the storm. 

Among those wandering the lands as the rain gently fell was a young dire. To be honest, he didn't really fit in with the rest of the foliage; his mixed dark and light brown coat leaving him a bit of a sore thumb in the already greening world around him. Spring was starting early it seemed, and though he appreciated all the seasons- spring was his favorite. Many creatures who enjoyed the spring would say it was the warm weather, or the ability to watch new life emerge from the dark voids of the harsh winter. To an extent, he would have to agree with all of those sentiments- it was always wonderful to see the budding trees begin anew and for those who had never lost their leave, seeing them come back to life with a sort of bounce in their branches made everyone smile. For Montauk, it was the arrival of his friends; the birds. They would come back in droves over the next few weeks, their chatter filling the air as they returned from their southern flights. It was this that excited Montauk the most. He was never truly talented to understand the avian tongue especially since it came in so many forms and languages. He preferred to listen to the crows and the owls; they were a truer embodiment of what it was he so desperately sought after, but he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the new stories that these migrating birds carried on their wings as they returned from a long break to another part of the world. Montauk smiled as a few passing comments from birds in the higher branches reached his ears. Yes, spring was his favorite time of year.

The dire strolled on through the midday rain, happily taking in the silence. He would plan to seek an audience at sundown with an owl if possible, but for now he would just simply enjoy what this world had to offer. Its secrets could wait a few more hours- it had kept them so far, and it had been some time since the young male had stopped to 'smell the flowers'.  Montauk plodded through the brush and up the hillsides passing the final layer of fog rolling through the lands, only pausing to look down at the world below for a moment before resuming his walk. It didn't last long though, as the rains picked up ever so slightly, making the dire change his outlook on the walk he was currently on. Perhaps it was time to settle until it passed, he thought, walking ever onwards.

   Shadows cast the eerie glow of the land into sharp, jagged relief, rocks mirrored into the imagery of teeth on the ground.  Ripping, caging, trapping, the image distorted only by the lapping of the waves of a large lake.  An overhang of craigy rock loomed above this side of the shoreline,  engulfing the cold, loose stone of what was left of a walkable path.

   The lake was a gem, nestled in between mountains to the east, and a vast, open plain on its far shore to the west. The expanse of the lake was too large for a wolf to comfortably swim across, and as it were, Annali had been traveling along its shore for the better part of three days.

   Above, the moon watched, distant and silent, uncaring on the plights of the beings that inhabited this land. An uninterrupting sovereign over the vastness of the known world, she ruled over her kingdom beside her brother, the sun, and while he rose over the land with warmth and radiance that threatened to burn,the moon was darker, cooler.

   Annali used to think the moon was indifferent through no choice but its own. Now she understood that the moon was cold only because the sun made it that way.

   Below, her paws were wet, caught by the shoreline. Had it been warmer she would have considered wading in the waters to wash the travel out of her fur, but with the land still reeling in winter’s clutch, she thought it a foolhardy notion.

   The girl examined the land before her cautiously, head low and muscles sore from travel, exhaustion tugging at the lids of her eyes from many restless nights. Annali thought about using the cover of the jagged overhang to claim at least a few hours of sleep, but thought better of it, too close to the water for her comfort.

   The greys of her pelt stood out less here than they had in the openness of the plains, but Annali found the more time she spent in the mountains, the more she disliked the shadows looming over her. More than ever, she missed the comfort of the forest.

   Green eyes peered ahead, taking in the landscape. This part of the lake gave way to a valley that held little promise, but took claim in being the only permissible way she could move forward, and so Annali had no choice but to enter it.

   Tired, sore, and hungry, the lone girl pressed onward, hoping this mountain range offered more than what she could see at first glance.

[ooc: so I had to re-write this bc a refresh ate the original, but I got it done ugh, and if Andraste/Faustina wants to remember Annali as Murmur, she is more than welcome to call her that. Once I have Annali's history written, there will be a reason for the change.]

The pack had been quiet, but so had he. Kastra found himself spending half the days on the border, and the rest wandering aimlessly. He had ‘found’ locations around the pack lands, probably already known to others, but not to him. Even if they were interesting to look at, he found all of it empty. He knew it would be his own downfall if he fell into another bout of depression, but it wasn’t something he could easily stop. It came and went, and he could feel it pressing down once again. There had to be something to stop this from constantly happening. But he was simply a jovian wind, a border guard. He hadn’t learned how to care for illness, or if there was a way to care for mental illnesses.

The boy found himself by a stream, gently lapping up water. There was more he could do for the pack, more than be a border guard. It would be handy and vastly more important one day, but that day was not today. He sighed, lifting his head up and eyes catching onto another creature not too far. Kastra had heard of her plenty, but it was still overwhelming to see her. Kastra almost walked towards who he knew had to be Mercury, draw forward almost mindlessly. They had been right, she did look so much like Alana. As he drew closer, he tried to find his words. He knew his family; he knew his parents, and he knew his siblings. This was something new. He had yet to meet anyone outside his immediate family before.

“You’re Mercury. Right?” It was obvious, but he still had to confirm. “I’m Kastra. My parents are Alana and Julek.” He felt he was suppose to have some kind of connection with her, like how he feels closer to the others that shared his blood. But instead of finding comfort in the presence of family, there was anxiety. “You’re my aunt, right? My mom’s sister?” Her father’s brothers had and were apart of the pack, but he hadn’t truly met them. Had Terebellum or Becrux met Mercury yet? One of them probably had, with Kastra being late to the party. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She had ruled with Alana before, if he knew correctly. The two sisters were co alphas, before Mercury went missing and Julek became a king. Kastra had admired the idea of ruling alongside siblings. It had been a nice fantasy.

Little specks of white gently kissed little specks of black. The dappled child sneezed as a snowflake landed on his pale nose, his entire body shaking, causing the hood of his sweater to flop over his head. He groaned in frustration, but stood up and continued on. He had just finished crying again, maybe for the 50th time since he got lost. He should've thought about it first before running off from his pack and out of the safety of the forest. In the open grass, he felt exposed and vulnerable. Not that he didn't feel that way about himself every day of his life. But now it was just a little too real, and too cold.

He let out a whine every now and then, trying to calm his nerves. The boy was scared, and he knew he just made the biggest mistake of his life. Looking up, he realized that the snow could make him less visible to anything big and tough that would want to hurt him, but he didn't want to risk freezing to death. Normally his siblings would've been there to keep him warm. He sniffled as he thought about how much he would miss it, and probably how little they were thinking of him right now. Surely there was no one back there who really cared that he was gone. They would think, "Oh, he's having one of those tantrums again, just leave him be". But the truth was, he didn't want them to leave him be. He wished for someone to nudge him up, to tell him it's alright to be a little different. No one ever really tried. They'd tell him to toughen up, grow a pair. He was expected to deal with his bullies on his own, and not take crap from anyone. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt a lot, physically and emotionally. There were parts of his body that still ached with the bruises, and the memories. 

"No one cares about your stupid fucking stories. You sound like a girl!"
"Yeah, no wonder you don't have any friends. You're so god damn annoying."
"You're not special, you freak. Quit pretending."


"I'M NOT PRETENDING!" And with that, he was already far away enough that he couldn't hear them laughing, and they couldn't hear him shouting. The boy let out a sigh. Now that he was a bit more calm after his sobbing spell, he was able to forgive himself a little. If it had continued any longer, maybe they would've hurt him a lot more. He was lucky to get away with just bruises and scrapes. He was happy to be away from them at least. Anything to escape their awful voices and hurtful intentions would be ideal.

He paused at the top of a hill, it's silhouette stark against the grey sky. There was something funky in the air. Wolves? Aha! This was his chance. He'd heard stories about big scary wolves before. Time to prove it to those big meanies that he was a super strong, super magical bandit! Just like in his stories. He was gonna conquer the wolves and bring back one of their heads and shove it in their mean faces how cool he is. He giggled, hopping in place with excitement, before bounding away following the scent. 

"Look out, woofs! I'm big strong an' gonna get you!"

Before he could make it very far, he unwittingly slipped on the sleeve of his hoodie, sending him rolling. He lay on the frosty ground for a minute, catching his breath. When he finally untangled himself and sat up, he couldn't stop his watery eyes from flowing. The sobs began again. He pulled his hood further over his face, embarrassed and upset that he was beginning to feel that those big meanies were right. Maybe he wasn't special.


^{ooc: Parker is a wee baby in this, like 4-6 months young!}