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Post by Thalo December on Mar 11, 2013 21:56:12 GMT -8
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| i knew you long ago She didn't think there were any rules about leaving the Base without a Scout or two with you, but Thalo still felt as if she were sneaking out. It was mid-afternoon and she hoped to make it into the forest and back before anyone noticed her absence. The last thing she wanted was to be breaking rules already.
It was so nice to be out of the mine and enjoying the sunlight, even if the air was crisp and cool still. At least it wasn't damp up here like it was every day in the dark of the mine. She pulled her cloak tighter around her with a small shiver. It was a hand-me-down left behind by a former Resident. She suspected the former user had been male because the cloak was distinctly too large on her. It trailed the ground when she walked and made her look small with how loose it hung over her body. But it was made of a wool and cotton blend, and kept the wind out very well. Despite it's size, it was probably the nicest article of clothing she'd had since her mother had left.
From her belt, she drew a pouch. Besides escaping the dark of the mine, she had another purpose for venturing along into the forest: herb hunting. She understood most of the Residents didn't know chamomile from a dandelion. Already, she could spot half a dozen herbs useful for something or another. She knelt to tug at a balsam root plant when she heard the forest around her go suddenly silent.
She hadn't noticed the birdsong and animal chatter until it suddenly disappeared. Fear rushed through her, and Thalo stayed close to the ground, listening. She didn't hear anything approaching, but for all she knew, she was about to become something's dinner.
but it's all in the past
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Post by Roger Gale on Mar 12, 2013 13:27:34 GMT -8
i'm still caged inside this animal i have become [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=style, background:#383838; margin-top:-8px;, b table] |  |  |
▬ tagged Dark w/Thalo Roger breathed silently and slowly: he had been stalking his prey for almost an hour. He couldn't risk letting the doe get away. He had spent too much time and too much energy, and letting her get away would be an utter detriment, as he would leave the forest without enough food and energy for the next day. He eased his grip on his bow and stalked silently through the bushes. Roger’s hunger urged him to move faster, and it took everything in him to maintain a snail’s pace. He knew she could outrun him without any effort, so he knew he had to send her down with an arrow, or with outstanding luck, a lucky throw of his hatchet.
When the time was finally right, the hunter drew back the bowstring. The slight creaking noise of the bow and the rustling of the bush’s leaves made the doe look over, but there was no turning back for Roger. He aimed for her hind leg and let his arrow fly through the silent air. The doe stumbled from the hit, but she had enough strength to begin prancing away. The hunter swore under his breath and took off after her. Luckily she would be slowed significantly by the arrow.
He slung his bow across his torso as his feet darted against the mossy ground. With animal instincts, he grabbed his hatchet from his belt and held it aloft, ready to throw. She wasn’t going to get away. At least, that’s what he repeated to himself as he ran after his prey. Roger threw his hatchet and watched it land messily in the doe’s ribcage. She staggered a bit, but it gave the hunter enough time to round on her with his knife out.
At last, Roger had time to catch his breath. After killing the doe mercifully with his knife, he sheathed it and retrieved his hatchet. The hide would be useful, and he would have to skin the animal carefully, when he returned to his mobile camp outside the forest. For now, he slung the smallish doe over his shoulders. She weighed less than she looked—Roger surmised she was roughly 60 pounds, at least. He’d have venison for days.
As he stepped into a small clearing, his gut dropped.
It was a woman. Or a girl. Yeah, probably a girl, he thought quickly. Not like either word mattered—she still meant trouble. The calm hunter demeanor that Roger had maintained earlier was suddenly replaced by a racing heartbeat and shallow breath. What was he supposed to do? Probably say something… or something. Should he hide the bloodied up doe he was carrying? Girls were afraid of blood, weren’t they?
"Oh," he mumbled quietly. No, that was a bad start. Oh well. "Uh... Yeah." CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE AND BACK TO NEVERLAND |
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Post by Thalo December on Mar 12, 2013 20:39:48 GMT -8
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| i knew you long ago She'd been concentrating on listening to hard that she hadn't noticed the stranger's approach until he was suddenly speaking. "Oh. Uh... Yeah." She nearly screamed in surprise, snapping her head to look at him. She could barely keep her breakfast down... not at all because of the dead deer, but because fear was tying her stomach into knots. She'd had a few bad run-ins with strange men during her year alone. Luckily she'd managed to escape both times before the men had... well, had their way. But the second time she'd earned herself a tiny scar on her neck: a little faintly-visible line where his knife had pressed against her skin. From where she sat, she could see a knife on this new stranger's belt.
Thalo went very still. Her hand had tightened into a fist around the mouth of her pouch. Her pale blue eyes glued to the stranger's face, lips drawn tight and skin even paler than usual. For a long moment, nothing happened at all. Then Thalo began to feel light-headed and had to remind herself to breathe. As she inhaled a ragged breath, her hands began to shake. "Wh-who are you?" she felt the words tumble from her almost without thinking. She silently cursed her own stupidity. Not only had she left the Base without a Scout in tow, she'd also come unarmed.
If the stranger responded, she didn't hear it... because a new threat had appeared. Thalo stared over the man's shoulder, her jaw dropping open. Any fear of what he might do to her was suddenly lost. For a second, she was so filled with shock that she didn't feel anything at all. And then that moment passed, and she again felt like screaming. Lucky for them both, she kept her tongue. Lifting her hand, she pointed one finger passed him to what was lurking in the forest.
She'd only seen a moose in person once before. Even from a distance, she'd been able to see how large it was. Her father and grandfather had warned her, though, that they could be very dangerous. Some had a tendency to attack without warning. And you had better hope there wasn't a fawn around, or you were as good as dead. The one she saw now was surely seven feet tall, with a small rack of antlers upon it's brow (it was still just spring, after all). It took all of Thalo's self-control not to loose her breakfast right then and there.
but it's all in the past
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Post by Roger Gale on Mar 12, 2013 21:28:40 GMT -8
i'm still caged inside this animal i have become | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=style, background:#383838; margin-top:-8px;, b table] | | |
▬ tagged Dark w/Thalo & maybe Tom Roger nearly felt bad for creeping up on her. She looked and sounded terrified. The girl looked as frightened and cornered as the doe he had just killed, with her wide eyes and pale skin. Momentarily, he wondered where the girl had come from. Wherever she was from, she didn’t look prepared to be wandering around alone in the forest—he couldn't see any kind of weapon on her. And then when she spoke up timidly, asking who he was, it took Roger a moment to realize that she had asked a question. He struggled to formulate a proper response. His brain got stuck on "I’m not from around here" and "I’m Roger." Neither would be helpful information for the girl, he figured.
Before he could reply, he noticed that the frightened girl had lifted a delicate finger, pointing in his direction. Roger furrowed his eyebrows in thought before he realized what she must have meant. Carefully, he craned his neck to look over his shoulder, and he felt his lungs freeze in astonishment. About a million curse words ran through his mind when he saw the moose.
Nothing could have been worse, except for a bear, or perhaps a cougar. But moose were just as dangerous as their fellow kings of the forest—especially when confronted by a threat of any kind. Roger hoped the moose wouldn't sense his alpha nature, but considering he had a dead deer slung over his shoulder, he didn't think it was likely.
"Don't move," he said gently to the strange girl. He didn't look at her, but he extended a steady hand and motioned for her to stay still. Roger prayed that she would trust him, even though he wasn’t sure he would do the same if he had been in her place. His cold, blue eyes didn’t leave the moose, and he gingerly stepped backward and placed the doe on the ground. The giant moose padded the ground with its front hoof, and its ears flattened as he stared at Roger. After a moment of intense stare down, the beast shook its head with a few grunts. That was never a good sign. The hunter slowed his breath and took another careful step backward.
In that moment, the moose must have made its decision to attack, but Roger had planned on it. He saw no calf in the immediate area, but he was sure the moose thought they were intruders. He didn't really have time to look for a calf anyway. In the heat of the moment, he tried to formulate a plan of attack, but the moose was charging too fast. There was no way he could grapple it, so he darted out the way.
Thinking quickly, Roger ran toward the girl and leaned down to snatch her wrist in his calloused hand. "Run!" he urged. They needed a headstart against the angry moose. Roger tried to recollect all he knew about moose, and the key thing he remembered is that they weren't very fast—that made them easier to flee from than bears or large cats.
"Get to a hiding place, fast," he told the girl, trying to stay calm. "I'll keep it occupied." Prepared to fight, Roger grabbed his hatchet from his belt and looked over his shoulder. The moose was not far behind.
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE AND BACK TO NEVERLAND |
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Post by Thalo December on Mar 13, 2013 9:18:54 GMT -8
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| i knew you long ago Lucky for her, the strange man had caught on quickly. It only too him a brief moment before he glanced over his shoulder and saw what she saw. He froze as well. For a moment, the very Earth seemed to stand perfectly still. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed for the first time the dead deer slung over the man's shoulder. Maybe the moose was angry about that?
"Don't move," the stranger ordered, and she obeyed if only because she hadn't moved at all since the beast had come into view. Without moving her head, she watched the man lay the deer down and inch slowly backwards. A part of her was glad to see, at least, that she wasn't overreacting. It seemed most people knew that moose were not to be trifled with. Perhaps if they both just backed slowly away, they could escape without the creature fully noticing them.
No such luck. In the split second the moose decided to charge them, Thalo wondered to herself if moose had perhaps become more aggressive towards humans since the war. It didn't seem too strange that now that people were far less common that moose would be frightened of them and be more likely to attack. This made sense, but was little consolation.
Before she'd had time to react, the man grabbed her wrist and dragged her in the opposite direction of the coming monster. Her fear evaporated, leaving her completely numb. She was vaguely aware of screaming. Only the stranger's grip on her wrist got her moving at all. It seemed they'd only gone a few steps before the man stopped again. She heard his voice as if from a distance. "Get to a hiding place, fast. I'll distract it." He turned back to face the creature. Still numb to most thought or reason, Thalo ducked behind a tree. She could hear the beast approaching fast.
Suddenly, in very un-Thalo-like fashion, she decided to act. She found a rock from near her feet, turned around the tree once more and chucked the stone with all of her strength. Surprisingly, she actually hit the beast. The rock bounced heavily off its neck. And, then, as if in slow motion, the moose came to a halt, and stared at her instead of the man. She was suddenly aware of how much taller than her it was. It was seven feet tall at its shoulder alone, its head reaching another foot or two taller.
Her fear suddenly caught up with her, and even when the moose started to charge right at her, she found herself unable to move.
but it's all in the past
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Post by Roger Gale on Mar 14, 2013 16:09:33 GMT -8
i'm still caged inside this animal i have become | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=style, background:#383838; margin-top:-8px;, b table] | | |
▬ tagged Dark w/Thalo Roger’d had no particular feeling about the girl until then. He thought she was just some lost girl in the woods, and she was merely looking for a way back to wherever she came from. She looked weak. She looked very scared. She looked alone, maybe. But what she didn’t look was batshit crazy. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. When she lobbed the stone toward the angry moose, he could barely restrain his thoughts: did she want to die? The hunter watched the rock fly through the air, and time seemed to slow down. He felt his breath hitch in his mouth, and his gut wrenched—this wasn’t going to end well. Roger readied his hatchet in his hand and made a run for the girl when the moose began to charge at her.
“Move!” he called out as he ran to her. Could she even hear him? She wasn’t moving. She looked petrified from fear, so there wasn’t much Roger could do but hinder it. Quickly, he shoved his hatchet into his belt and pulled his bow from his torso in one well-practiced motion. He knocked an arrow and aimed at the moose, not taking very much time to ensure precision. The arrow landed in the moose’s rump, which would do less to hinder it, and more to anger it. Most importantly, the beast staggered. Roger seized the opportunity and darted toward the girl, shoving her indelicately out of the way. “Get to a hiding place, now” he commanded. She was out of the way, and hopefully she would get to safety soon. He didn’t mind sounding rude anymore. “Or pretend to be de—”
With a horrible crunching sound, the moose rammed his ribcage with its antlers and sent him straight to the ground. His bow flew from his hand, and he couldn’t see where it had gone. Roger felt his mouth move to form of a curse word, but no sound came out. For a moment, his mind was completely empty. His eyes flew shut and he rolled on the ground, trying to recall his moose knowledge. Their antlers and their hooves were especially dangerous—he’d have to avoid getting trampled on now that he had already been rammed, but he didn’t want the girl to get hurt. He had to think quickly.
He saw the moose thrash its head in the girl’s direction, so Roger reached for his knife in his belt and threw it at the moose. His aim was off because every one of his movements came with shooting pains, but he had to do something. It wasn’t nearly where he had aimed, but the knife must have penetrated the moose’s hide right at the breast, because it wailed it what sounded like pain. It snarled and directed its attention to Roger again, but luckily, the hunter was prepared. He covered his face and rolled onto his side, trying hard not to cough up blood between heaving breaths. He was sure that two of his ribs were certainly cracked—he hoped that they didn’t damage too much internally.
The moose leaned down and sniffed his arm. It even prodded him again with its antlers. It didn’t sound like it was preparing to trample him to death. Roger kept his eyes closed and hoped that the girl wasn’t ready to throw another rock. If they were both quiet, then the moose would give up and return to its area where it most likely had a mate waiting. Even so, Roger planned on sending his hatchet clear through the moose’s brains to repay the favor to the beast.
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE AND BACK TO NEVERLAND |
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Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 14, 2013 21:04:23 GMT -8
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[tr][atrb=style, width: 30px; vertical-align: top;]try to stay away
from where the wild things play
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He heard a scream from a distance. It was a woman's scream, he could tell at once. He froze what he was doing, looking up with his barely-finished bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He'd just been about to test it out for the first time. He still needed to seal the wood, but other than that, it was a pretty damn good bow, if he said so himself. All that went out the window when he heard the scream. His father would have told him to go in the opposite direction and hide somewhere safe until all was quiet again. But Tom was not his father. Despite everything he'd been taught, instinct told him to run to the woman's aid.
So he snatched up his pack and the rest of the arrows, and ran.
Lucky he was in good shape and used to forests. He easily dodged around trees and over fallen logs. The pack slowed him down some, and he was sure he was making quite a bit of noise, but he doubted there was much prey left around after that heart-stopping scream. Ahead, he could hear something thrashing around.
Tom tried to slide to a halt, but the moss under him was slick with dew, and he nearly landed on his face. He recovered in time to keep from falling, and his jaw dropped open. It was a moose. A big fucking moose. And, to top things off, there was Roger, going at the beast with his hatchet. Even as he threw down his pack and struggled to string his arrow, the beast trampled his brother. A cry left him without thinking, feral and angry. He loosed and arrow as the beast thrashed its head towards a pale-haired girl he didn't know.
He moved without waiting to see where the arrow hit the creature. It screamed an inhuman screech, and he knew he'd at least hit it somewhere. Instead of looking, he dodged around it as quick as he could. The girl lay in a heap on the ground, Roger down as well. Tom leapt between the beast and the two injured people, stringing another arrow and looking up at the moose again.
His first arrow had caught it not only in the head, but in it's beady black eye. It was thrashing around now, quick with panic. Before he could move, it threw it's legs up in front of him, and he felt it's foreleg connect with his face. Tom fell backwards, nearly on top of his brother, but rolled back up quickly. He could feel his nose streaming blood, but ignored it. He pulled out a new arrow (the previous one had been trampled) and set it across the string in a practiced movement. The moose reared up again, but Tom let the arrow fly before it could come down on him again.
His shot was true again. It caught the beast in the neck, just behind its jaw. With a final wheezing cry, it tumbled backwards and to the earth.
For a few seconds, Tom could only stare in shock, blood now completely covering his face. He recovered quickly, though, and turned. The girl still lay on the ground, unmoving. Without thinking, Tom went to his brother first. "Roger! Are you hurt?" He set his bow aside and reached forward, afraid to touch him if his brother was badly injured.
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Post by Roger Gale on Mar 15, 2013 16:24:07 GMT -8
i'm still caged inside this animal i have become | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=style, background:#383838; margin-top:-8px;, b table] | | |
▬ tagged Dark w/Thalo & Tom Roger faded in and out of consciousness, but he tried to stay awake for as long as he could. When the moose had finally backed off, he assumed it was because someone else had joined them. He peeked through his half-closed eye and saw that a newcomer battled with the moose, rather skillfully with a bow—that’s when it dawned on him. He groaned and tried to lift himself to his elbows, but the pain kept him pinned to the ground. However, when he saw the moose’s hoof pound his brother’s face, he heard himself snarl in a rather animal-like fashion. If that moose messed his brother up… The anger rose in him already, and he swore. Roger’s hand moved slowly to his hatchet, since his bow had been thrown in another direction, but his brother was already back up in a flash.
He could barely watch Tom battle the creature. Not only because of his pain, but because of his slightly damaged pride. He could hardly let his brother see him in such a wounded state, especially considering how skillfully he wielded his bow against the moose. In spite of everything, Roger coughed out something of a chuckle. Kick its ass, Tom, he thought. He wished he could have done it with his own hatchet, but it was still satisfying watching his brother fight it off. In what seemed like a few seconds, Tom had felled the damn beast, and he rushed over to him, expressing immediate concern.
“I’m fine, just a few bruises… get off me,” Roger spat out, groaning in pain as he tried to sit up. Only then did he realize that his brother hadn’t touched him—the pressure must have been from a cracked rib, or something. How wonderful. He smirked and added, “You… look like a mess, Tom.” He could only breathe in very shallow, sporadic breaths, but he was thankful for it. He let his eyes close, and he took a moment before he placed a clenched fist on his brother’s chest. Roger gripped the fabric of his brother’s shirt in his arm before he gasped, “Girls… They’re trouble, Tom…” He felt his mouth curve into a weak, dry smile. “Father… was right.”
He coughed again and decided to stay put until he felt like he could pull himself to his feet. Until then, he turned his head in the direction of the last place he saw the girl. Roger hoped she had taken his advice and gone to a hiding place. She owed him, that was for damned sure. His vision was too blurry to see if she was still there, even. “That girl,” Roger began in a low wheeze. “Is she…? Where did she…? Just… Get her out of here…”
Roger was having a hard time focusing. Did he hit his head when the moose battered him to the ground? He screwed his eyes shut and fought the urge to vomit. He hoped there was no internal bleeding happening inside of him. Honestly, he was really looking forward to eating the meat from the doe he had killed earlier, but now he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take it back to his camp at all. Of all places, why did he have to run into that girl here? Where did she come from?
He felt his mind running in all sorts of directions. It was even harder to stay awake now. “I need… my supplies… at camp.”
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE AND BACK TO NEVERLAND |
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Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 15, 2013 22:16:18 GMT -8
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[tr][atrb=style, width: 30px; vertical-align: top;]try to stay away
from where the wild things play
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His thoughts seemed to be running a thousand miles a minute. His initial instinct urged him to grab his brother and get as far from the damned moose as possible, whether is was dead or not. He swallowed nervously. Roger was talking -- definitely a good sign -- but he was in no shape for walking. Despite his talking, his brother's breath came in short gasps. Moving him was not an option.
He glanced briefly over his shoulder, Roger's hand gripping his shirt. The moose hadn't stirred, but Tom feared what animals might be drawn near by the scent of the carcass. He didn't doubt there would be wolves and coyotes near, perhaps even a bear. The last thing they needed was more animal trouble.
He sighed as Roger seemed to babble incoherently. He tugged his brother's hand away from his shirt and gave him an apologetic glance. "You're about to hate me very much," he told Roger, although he doubted if he was conscious enough to understand. Not taking any chances, Tom settled his bow over his chest and stood. He grabbed his brother under his arms and lifted him just a little off the ground. Moving as carefully as he could, he dragged Roger just a short dozen yards away from the dead moose. "Sorry," he whispered, and slowly settled him back onto the ground. Lucky, the ground here was almost entirely covered by a layer of thick, lush moss.
He turned back for his pack and Roger's weapons, when he noticed the girl still hadn't moved. A flash of guilt ran through him, and he quickly moved to kneel next to her. She looked ghostly pale, but he couldn't tell how much of that was her natural complexion. With a careful hand, he turned her face towards him and swore loudly. She appeared uninjured except for a gash on the side of her head that was bleeding all down her neck and shoulder. Her eyes stayed firmly shut, and she showed no sign of acknowledging his presence at all. Frowning, Tom slid his arms under her cloak and lifted her with surprising ease. He carried her carefully over to where he'd left Roger and set her, too, down into the moss.
Without a moment's pause, he ran back for his pack and Roger's discarded bow and hatchet. He glanced at the deer, but left it for the time being. He knew Roger would be vexed if he left it there to rot, but there were other things on his mind just then. He tossed his pack to the ground and quickly pulled it open. His spare shirt would have to do for bandages. It wasn't exactly disinfected, but it would work for the time being. He ripped a few strips off it. The girl still hadn't moved at all. He pressed some of the cloth into her wound and wrapped a strip around her head to hold it in place. A drop of blood dripped onto the beige fabric, and it took Tom a long moment of confusion to realize that his own nose was still bleeding some. Now that he focused on it, his head was beginning to throb painfully. But there wasn't much time to focus on it.
He turned back to Roger. "I need to take a look at those wounds," he said, and began tugging at his brother's shirt as gently as he could.
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Post by Roger Gale on Mar 16, 2013 18:55:24 GMT -8
i'm still caged inside this animal i have become | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=style, background:#383838; margin-top:-8px;, b table] | | |
▬ tagged Dark w/Thalo & Tom Pain. Burning, throbbing, shooting, stabbing pain. That was what Roger felt as his brother dragged him to another location. He bit down and ground his jaw to keep himself from screaming a slew of curse words, and it just barely worked. He could almost feel his bones shifting around inside of him, but he didn’t know if that was his mind playing tricks on him. Sorry, Tom had murmured. The older brother simply scoffed mentally—No, you’re not. His brother was simply doing what had to be done. He was sure they mutually understood. Roger hissed softly when Tom laid him down and fetched the girl as well.
He watched as his brother bandaged up the poor girl. After a moment, his gaze shifted directly at the girl. The blood running down her face… that was hers. Suddenly, he felt pity for the girl. Roger knew that he was injured because he was being stupid, but this girl had no business being injured. She couldn’t protect herself—or perhaps she could, and she didn’t have the means to do it. What was it like, Roger wondered, to feel so helpless? He almost wanted to give her his knife, so she could have it in the future.
Then Tom was pulling at his shirt. “Woah, easy,” Roger muttered. He didn’t want to move too much, but in order to let his brother really inspect him, he would have to. Gently, he eased himself out of his jacket and shirt, wincing in pain when he moved his arms too much or breathed too heavily. He looked like a wreck. There was a large, discolored patch where he knew a bruise was forming. Must have been some internal damage, he thought. There was a slight gash on his abdomen, and the dull pain in his shoulder suggested that it was dislocated. “Bruised rib, maybe cracked,” he said huskily. “At least one, for sure. That’s the worst of it.” Roger looked at the girl again, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. “She’ll be all right?” he asked Tom, offhandedly. A moment later, he didn’t really remember asking it.
While he would have loved to take as much time as he wanted, he also wanted to escape the forest as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure if any other animals were around, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out. However, he wanted to make sure that he was properly fixed up before they left again. Roger blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. His mind was still foggy. “How’d you find us, Tommy Boy? Your nose?” he chuckled hazily. His joking tone fell flat due to the intense pain he felt.
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE AND BACK TO NEVERLAND |
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Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 19, 2013 20:08:22 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, background:#E6E6E6; width: 290px; height: 500px; opacity: 0.9; border: 25px solid #030303; border-radius: 7px 7px 7px 325px, bTable; ]
[tr][atrb=style, width: 30px; vertical-align: top;]try to stay away
from where the wild things play
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He winced, seeing the bruising beginning to show already. Roger definitely had some damage to his ribs. Hopefully there wasn't anything worse than that, but Tom didn't dare hope. His brother bled only from a small gash. Bandaging it would only cause him more pain, so Tom left it be and carefully tugged Roger's shirt back down. He draped the coat back over him. He wasn't entirely certain what to do, but he figured moving him as little as possible for a while was probably best. Tom returned to his pack and removed both of his blankets. One he draped over Roger and the other over the girl.
He didn't listen much to what his brother was saying as none of it sounded very lucid. He left him for several moments to carry the deer carcass closer and set it beneath a tree a few meters away for carving. Before he started, though, he returned to his brother and the girl. "You should sleep, Roger. I'll wake you before it gets dark," he told him patiently. Hoping to placate him, he added, "I'll clean your deer." Then he left his brother alone to either sleep or continue babbling incoherently.
It took him only a few minutes to hang the deer upside down from a branch, and only a few more to remove it's pelt. With practiced motions, he removed most of the meat, set a small amount of it aside, and wrapped the rest in the hide. Luckily, the air was still fairly cool. He could smoke or cook the meat in the morning without having to worry about flies getting at it overnight. The majority of the meat, he tucked up in the tree out of reach of most animals. When he was finished, he carried what remained of the doe back over by the moose corpse. Tom paused beside the massive form, running his bloodied hands through it's thick fur. He decided it's death didn't have to be entirely for naught. It took him much longer to remove the moose pelt than it had the deer. The moose was considerably larger, and he couldn't move it very easily. In the end, though, he managed to remove the fur without damaging it too much.
Back near his brother and the girl, Tom built a small fire and began cooking some of the doe meat. Over the crackling of the flames, he could hear movement in the distance. He knew it wouldn't take long for the forest to close in around the corpses. Wary of whatever the forest was hiding now, Tom slid his bow over his shoulders, recovered his remaining arrows, and tucked Roger's hatchet into his belt. Then he sat next to his fire, between the two injured people and whatever lurked in the growing darkness.
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