Life sucked. Why make it harder than it ever needed to be? Turning around and heading home would’ve been the better deal. Life was beating her ass. Apparently, her luck was all spent after her miraculous leap. The miracle didn’t seem so sparkly and cool now. Her night was spent awakening to the gnawing pain in her front paw; laying in the burn and holding in the cries. Finally, she was all alone. This is what she apparently wanted.

Morning peaked behind a dull light hidden behind dark clouds that gifted her a morning shower. A cold one. Canary’s eyes pinched and braced as she stumbled from the mountain’s forest. Her paw clutched to her chest like an admission of shock or disgrace.

Canary kept it moving, hobbling along. Her maw hung open in a hard pant. She paused every now and then to drink from small, dirty puddles. The mud slowed her down in a slow, suctioning <i>pop</i>. She believed she’d get there eventually, limping through the mud, to the larger pool of frozen water. The girl knew she was out in the open with her stupid ankle in the stupid rain and where her stupid idea brought her.

But, fresh water? That’s where she’d start.

Shit weather, shit hunting, shit body, <i>shit, shit, shit</i>, Bird thought, staring at the bloom of saturated crimson on her silvery fur. It stood out like a bison standing in the middle of a snow-covered field.

Unmistakable, and a certain invitation to those catering to particular instincts.

Bird would have hoped the stress of leaving her home behind to eat itself alive and her current food predicament might have stressed her to a point where this sort of thing wouldn't happen but you win some, you lose some, she supposed. Clamping her tail down hard around her rump and flicking it to tuck to her belly, she hauled herself to her feet and set about snuffling at the cold, lifeless and damp earth for a bounty. Mother Nature always had something for her, it was just a matter of Bird being stubborn and resourceful enough to get her to give it up.

It took a few hours, during which the 'ignoring her heat' method was working great, and the 'finding food by walking aimlessly' method wasn't. The sky had lightened a bit behind the clouds, and the wet snow clumps had soaked her fur nearly through. With a huff, she sat down, casting her gaze across the meadow. In the distance, a hare peeked out of its warren, before shuffling back inside right away when it realized what the weather was like.

She huffed, the breath clouding a bit even in the damp, cold air, a dry and largely silent laugh. She was jealous of a fuckin' bunny.

That was her cue to get her ass moving, she supposed, though she was loathe to leave the area that seemed largely desolate of other wolves in her current state. She didn't want to be harassed, and she didn't want temptation staring her in the face. She didn't need the allure of a warm body comforting all her many emotional aches and pains, and soothing the physical ones low in her belly.

Wait, what was she worried about again?

Right. Food. Sex didn't fill Bird's belly and that was the priority. The meadow seemed shit for hunting, so she'd....Go somewhere else. And stay focused on the task at hand, hunger and head fogging her focus be damned. Tail still tucked, Bird stood, tilting her head at the meadow surrounding her briefly before trotting in the mountain's direction. Mountains, she knew, had hunted on before, had learned to hunt there. She'd try there, and hope the cold would do half her work for her. A starved and frozen carcass would take a while to chew on, but it was low-exertion food.

Character's Full Name: Canary Carter
Link to Character's Profile:https://miasma.vim-rp.net/member.php?act...ile&uid=54
Played By:Jezo
Any parent fur/eye colors for their genotype:white/cream fur, brown eyes
Roleplay Sample:

Gosh, Canary groaned, and she did so willfully in a sharp gurgling whine. A dip cut right through the mountain’s pass. She would have to turn around and go back where she came from <i>or</i> figure out how to make it across. The newfound yearling rolled her eyes, scuffing in frustration, and stamped her paws. The early morning sun had melted into the late afternoon, where the scare of reds projected onto the mountain side, lengthening the shadows.

The dip was 5 times her size across. Her first winter had squashed the land in a freezing burn; the bottom of the gorge into a solid lacquer mix of mud, frost, and ice. Doubt, in her reflection, translated clearly to her.

The gorge’s jagged edges were clean in their points and crunchy in crust. Liquid smooth and resting in the drop’s belly.

She stole a glance at her disappointment when she left her reflection on the ice. Dismay lingered on her. It wasn’t even a story she would tell to herself. She wasn’t going to cross? But how would she cross? If she was whispering to her brothers, gathering all their attention by the hushed curves of her tall-tale, what would she say?

When she glanced back to the gorge, what would she do in that moment? The shadows leapt further, blurring the beam of reds.

Canary heard her feet before the silent rush of air picked up from underneath her. The <i>pop</i> and <i>crack</i> of her front paw. Her other arm dug into the side of the cliff, her conquest. Nails pained into the frost-bitten dirt. The paw she disfigured refused to help. Her hind quarters pushed and jerked until she heaved her stomach and finally the rest of herself onto the other side.

The girl laid panting. The red, along with the shadows, set. She crossed and she wasn’t turning back.

How did you find Miasma?:bepbop Sabre

DESIRED TRAIT POINTS — please allocate a total of 10 points!
Strength: 2
Agility: 1
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 3

The caves had been full, lately. Full of new things, new noises, new smells. That didn't bode well, for the caves, or for their dwellers. It made Ferus nervous. In the darkness, tucked just inside one of the openings to the outside, a pair of slate eyes opened, pupils wide to drink the dim lighting from the dreary outdoors in. In the seconds that passed, the shapes of the cavern's walls and roof sketched themselves into existence, but Feru already knew what it looked like. Their tongue swiped at her nose, a yawn aching in the tendons holding her jaws together, before she glanced toward the outside. It wasn't warm enough to melt the snow, but not cold enough to properly solidify it. Feru made a face, preferring the dry, cool mixture of dust and stone they were curled on. No hunting outside today, then. The best she would likely do would be to stick her head out, and lap the clumps of wet snow off the grass trying to establish itself for a little refreshment.

Instead of venturing out, Ferus unfurled herself from her tidy ball of fur and stretched the sleep away, shaking the worst of the dust and stray, tiny rocks from her pelt. At the junction of the entrance of the cavern, a bit of wood sorrel was trying to survive the frost. Mercifully, Ferus shuffled toward it and dipped her head, pinching with her teeth near the base of the stems to nip the first leaves of the plant off, rolling the bitter leaves in her mouth thoughtfully as she turned to continue through the caves. She moved slowly, ears pricked, breaths slow, even and quiet. One of the smells drifting through the mildewy-cave-smell and her own scent was that of a fox. A stench so intense, Ferus could not help but follow it. Either the vile, musky creature would take its leave before the whole cave stank so badly Ferus couldn't differentiate between a mouse and her own shit, or it'd perish and feed Ferus. She didn't have a preference, although admittedly she sort of hoped the thing had already cleared out. She didn't want to have to haul the carcass into the cold sleet so she didn't have to keep smelling it. She liked the cave-scent. Subtle, stony, and most importantly consistent. Caves were always cold, and dark, and usually a bit wet, no matter the time of year. Reliable as her own habits were, when unbothered by things like yelling and skunks and foxes and shit like that.

She was a bit grumpy, yeah.

She'd woken to a silent morning, in the middle of nowhere, so deep in snow that she couldn't see until she lifted her head. Not that doing so gave her any more information — the tree lines were so far away, so obscured by the opaqueness of the snow as it fell, that she could've been in purgatory and not known the difference.

Disoriented, she struggled to her feet. The last thing she remembered was following that dark woman, of strangers and crashing water and the sun as it broke through the clouds. All of it seemed so far away now, long ago out of reach, and as Mauti looked around her further, she — she didn't know what to do. Where to go. Who she was anymore.

Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, something that drove fear through her as she leaned to examine it — blood. A small amount of it, splattered thinly over the crystalline snow, glistening menacingly in what little light there was. She stared for a long while, tried to put together a meaning. Checked herself for cuts, scrapes, bruises — nothing. She felt perfectly fine, alive, content. But as she backed away from it and from the Mauti-shaped hole in the snow, her stomach twisted.

Link to Character's Profile:https://miasma.vim-rp.net/member.php?act...ile&uid=62
Any parent fur/eye colors for their genotype:
sire: chocolate timber with brown eyes
dam: black with blue eyes.

DESIRED TRAIT POINTS — please allocate a total of 10 points!
Strength: 2
Agility: 5
Charisma: 0
Intelligence: 3

Link to Character's Profile: <a href="https://miasma.vim-rp.net/member.php?action=profile&uid=19">jell-o</a>
Any parent fur/eye colors for their genotype: Father was auburn with yellow eyes and mother was agouti with amber eyes.

DESIRED TRAIT POINTS — please allocate a total of 10 points!
Strength: 4
Agility: 3
Charisma: 0
Intelligence: 3

Link to Character's Profile: <a href="https://miasma.vim-rp.net/member.php?action=profile&uid=24"> Rivka </a>
Any parent fur/eye colors for their genotype:
Dam: Brown and cream with blue eyes
Sire: Black with brown eyes

DESIRED TRAIT POINTS — please allocate a total of 10 points!
Strength: 3
Agility: 3
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 2

He was tracking her. She was the only thing in the world that could pull him from the clutches of his mother, from his near-inescapable drive to groom himself into her perfect successor.

He was tracking Soirée, that is. No need to think about Mother. Pretty, mysterious, perfect Soirée. He'd almost let her go when she'd left, but now, he couldn't imagine how.

He pressed forward, head low and streamlined like a snake as his paws crunched against the frosty earth. He'd climbed an endless range of godforsaken mountains to get here, and while he had temporarily lost her scent, Sfikas had enough faith in himself to know that she must be close by now.

The sound of bellowing caught his attention. Sfikas paused, eyes narrowed, to find the source of the commotion.

Oh. Oh, God.

It was a pair of elk--probably the largest bull he'd ever seen mounted on a cow, going absolutely crazy on her. Sfikas was revolted at how such a large, normally-magnificent creature could put itself in such a lowly position. The noises, the hip motions, the tucking of the tail, his desperation...

He decided that elk looked much more dignified with slit throats, kicking fruitlessly on the ground. Did all animals look so pathetic when they fucked?

Sfikas would never stoop so low. Sex was demeaning. He was a virgin, whatever, but he knew enough to decide it wasn't worth it.

Still, he stayed where he was, ears cupped forward and head tilting to catch what sound he could, eyes locked on the pair. An unfamiliar throbbing aggravated in his loins, followed by a neediness in his gut, that nearly made him pant.

Above all, it made him angry. His lips raised as he watched them, his hackles prickling. If he charged them, he'd undoubtedly catch the bull unaware, perhaps even unable to flee.

She had come from the mountains, ambling through its threatening stones and steep switchbacks with caution and fatigue. Soirée had kept moving, despite her better judgement and beating heart. She knew what she was running from, but had little certainty of what lied ahead. For the first time in her life, she was left without the answers to her problems and forced to descend into the unknown in solitude.

It was not exactly the life she chose, nor one she would’ve opted for given the chance. But it was the life she had now, and Soirée was a survivor. She would survive this.

Her paws wept in dollops of red, the callous pads at her feet no match for the terrain that lied ahead. It was a miracle she had even made it out of the mountains in the first place. Although, the forest had been no better. The sound of a roaring river had caught her attention miles ago, and with only the thought of pure survival, she had chased after it.

The young Noir had ignored the way the pebbles beneath her paws pinched at her toes and poked holes in her strength, and instead, she pushed as far as she could towards the river’s bank. Along either side lied puddles of large stones and boulders, each face of the rocks ahead sporting sharp sides and threatening warnings. She did not mind them. The river itself was loud and frightening. Even in the bowels of winter, the current seemed angry and unfed—as though the valley around her required some sort of sacrifice.

But it would not be her.

She paused momentarily, sighing against the tightness in her chest. Soirée lowered herself in the one spot that did not have a circle of sharp rocks, and rested by the river side with weary eyes. She’d drink in a moment, she told herself. Then she’d leave—but only after she closed her eyes for but a moment.

Only for a moment, she promised.