The crunching of snow under the large bears paws got more intense as he picked up speed. His nose stuck to the ground, drool, dripping from his jowls as he tracked a small deer. He inhaled, the scent filling his nostils. North. He thought as he shifted his large body north. The brute picked up speed as he headed north, his feet dragging slightly in the snow, making his tracks look more dragged than actual steps. Without notice, the wind shifted. Before Bo could react, a loud blow and the sound of fast crunching snow, followed by a white tail lifted high in the air, meant dinner was a no go. A loud growl erupted from his throat. Son Of A- he paused and shook his large head, turning south and loping away.

-

The large bear looked around, he had fallen back to his sisters house, maybe she'd have food. Carefully looking through his surroundings, Bo shifted. From the large brute of a bear to a large human, he ran his thick fingers through his hair, shaping it after being messed up through shifting. Carefully, he walked into his sisters house. "Tove?" He said cracking the door and sticking his head through. He scanned the room with his bright blue eyes. "Huh, must be out hunting or something." He said as he walked in, opening one of the delapidated cabinets and shuffiling through it. He found a can of beans and figured that it would suffice. Cracking it open and downing it with in a matter of seconds. He walked over to the fire place, a large stone filled with ash and a few pieces of wood. He found a fire starter and built a fire. He laid his bearskin down on the ground after undraping it from his neck and decided to lay down, face up towards the ceiling as he waited on his sister.

Laark Umbra / F / 19 / Hunter / Mentions: Village, Sadina, Sam, Max

Laark looked around first, she couldn’t spot anything that could potentially harm her, so she settled down in a clearing. Swiping away the debris on the ground, she started to arrange sticks in a timely order. She ripped off a piece of her cloth, sticking it between all the sticks she had arranged. Pulling a nearby stone out, she started to drag a dagger across its surface, creating sparks that flew right into the makeshift fire. She cupped her hands around the stem of It, being sure to blow lightly into the midst of it as a small light formed. Blowing a couple more times, she backed off. The fire started to crackle and dance in its beauty. She stood up, gathering more sticks and leaves around her to place into the fire. It grew with haste, smoke filtering into the air.

She didn’t care what human or shifter that had seen this. If anything it’d make it seem like there were multiple hunters or humans creating a fire. The smell of burning wood filled Laark’s satisfaction. For some reason, the smell calmed her. She pulled out a glass vial, shaped differently from the rest, and placed it on the ground. She gathered sturdy, thick, sticks and pulled them together was fabric strands. She started to carve into the middle, creating a dip, then a hole. She then placed the vial in the dip. She placed the death caps into the vial that was being held over the fire. Not needing to wash her hands due to her gloves. She pulled off her cape to reveal patches of lightweight steel armor placed over tight leathering clothing that stopped at her wrists and ankles. Her boots were more visible now. In fact, nearly her entire body was covered in different sizes of daggers. What was most visible was the long, jagged sword at her side. Handed down to her by her mentor.

It held a dark handle and encrusted writings into its blade. She pulled out a thin cloth, rubbery to the touch. She unsheathed the sword from her side and started to polish the blade. It reflected off her, and she stared into her heterochromatic eyes. She could see her small nose, starting to form pink edging around it. Her olive skin was dusted with dirt, her right eye being the iridescent green, taking after her mother, and her blue left eye, frosty yet daring, taking after her father. Her mother also had heterochromatic eyes, but instead, it was two shades of green. Even though both of her parents had black hair, her grandmother, on her mother’s side, had the raven hints of blue. That trait seemed to be somewhat dominant and passed onto Laark. She heard something drip, the death caps were getting heated to the point where they started to form into a liquid. She clasped onto another stick, tossing it into the fire. Burnt marks started to form on the vial, due to the immense amount of heat pressure. Her mind skipped as she remembered a voice. “Max should arrive at the village soon,” Lark poked at the fire before feeding it some more wood.

A calm smile formed on her face. The man was around 9 years older than she was, yet she still took him as the fatherly figure. He was much taller than her, and he gave off fatherly vibes. She could be herself around him, and she enjoyed that. He seemed to be the only one who understood her reasoning and listened to her talks. She couldn’t wait to see what he’s been up to. Hopefully not making enemies… A rustle peered behind her, and she stopped, spinning around. In a flash, her dagger was out and she crouched, one hand on the ground to propel her at the target. She softly chuckled as a rabbit darted from her path. She wasn’t hungry or in need of pelts, yet. So she let the rabbit be and turned back to polishing her sword.

Vera Smith, Female, 20, Hidden shifter, Gray wolf, mentions: None

Her sensitive ears heard the movement of a rabbit, she crouched low and stayed still. Then she saw the rabbit, it was small, but better than nothing. She waited patiently until it was in distance, then she leaped. She had quickly snapped it's neck when she had leaped for it. Placing a paw on the still warm body of the rabbit, she tore into it with the savagery of an animal who has ate food for a while. She finished it and lifted her head, eyes scanning the area while her ears picked up different sounds. She then started to trot quickly, not liking to be in the same area that much.

(I'm running out of things to do)

Once out of town and out of sight, Tove walked to a tree line and alllowed her animalistic side to take over. The once strong and muscular skin was now covered in grayish-white fur laced with black rosettes across her body. A long tail emerged, along with stubby ears and enourmous paws. The snow leopard let out a growl as she finished shifting. New senses overwhelmed Tove's nose and ears. Her bright blue eyes looked around once more to make sure no one had seen her. She scooped up her bow and sauages into her mouth and began padding back to her cabin.

-

As the leopard approched her home, a strong masculine scent that was mixed with bear filled her nose. Bo. She shook her head and shifted before entering the warm house. She had also smelled a fire from outside. "Bo, how many times do i have to tell you to quit building fires when im not home. Do you want to get caught?" the blond said entering the house and placing the sausages beside her on the counter before closing the door behind her.

"Little sister!" Bo said rasing up from his rug. The tall man towered over her. Tove shook her head and hugged her brother. She got the short gene in the family, he, obviously, got the tall one. Before she could speak Bo snatched the sausages from behind her.

"BO!" She yelled snatchig them back but not before he devoured one. "Why must you be this way." She rolled her eyes, setting them back on the counter. Tove walked over to the fireplace, warming herself.

Salem Grace - Female - 19 - Scout - mentions: Open

The breeze rustled the undergrowth and leaves as Salem passed, interrupting her walk. She took in a deep breath as the wind brought the cool and crisp air to her. Salem didn't have a full grasp of why she got so frustrated. She sighed, shaking away the frustration and irritation.

She surveyed the forest around her, recalling how her mother loved nature so much. Salem wished her mother had gotten to take another whiff of the fresh air before she... left forever. Salem bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes and glanced at her ring. Her dark skin and the bone-white ring contrasted with each other.

Salem looked around for a place to sit after a few more strides. She raked through the forest and found a comfortable looking rock with bright green moss. She quickly made her way over to the rock and sat down with her legs crossed. Salem then pulled out a bowie knife from a black leather sheath, hidden from behind her cloak. It had an etching on the spine of it. She had engraved a fox onto it a couple of years back. The fox on her knife looked similar to the one bestowed on her boot fastener.

She held the shaft of the knife in her left hand and traced along with the engraving using her right index finger. She then took her ring off and etched a few letters on the inside of the little object. It read, "L-Y-R-A" her mother's name. She stared at it for a few moments longer and drew in some quick breaths to prevent tears, didn't work though. Her nose and cheeks reddened as the tears welled up in her eyes. Salem swiped her arm over her eyes before any tears could leave traces on her skin. She uncrossed her legs and put her hands in her lap, staring at the blue sky with clouds drifting over the sun.

Salem adored engraving things, much like anything that involved crafting. She placed the ring back on her finger and carelessly put the knife back away. While doing so, she cut her left index finger on the knife. It wasn't anything to sniff at but it was an annoyance. She nipped at her lip to distract from the scathing on her finger. Salem gazed at the forest around her and stood up. She brushed herself off and avoided using her finger doing so. She took in a breath and set off in the village's direction.

Maximillian Trujillu / M / 28 / Hunter / Mentions: ‘the horse people’

Max was riding his yak at a steady pace. They’d arrive at Fellborn within no time, and, as Max was told from a nearer village, there were stables that he could possibly store his beast. Luckily, all the humans and possible shifters in Fellborn never laid eyes on Max before. Only the hunters have met his acquaintance. Even so, Max did slightly look like he’d be a hunter, but he also looked like a traveler with his yak. Max whistled for Yak to slow down, and eventually, he did. He leaped from the authentic saddle he had gotten from another town. He overviewed the mounds of luggage that was flopping at the yak’s sides. Everything still seemed intact. He gripped onto the reins of the yak, folding it over its horn so he couldn’t stop to graze. Max started walking, he whistled, ordering his beast to follow alongside him as they neared the town.

The tops were visible, and soon, Max could spot the stone structures and wood walls. It seemed like a lively village despite the hunter’s efforts. Nearly everyone was working and interacting. It set a calm warm feeling in his heart before he entered the town officially. He got a few weird looks, but some ignored him. He grabbed a stranger by the shoulders, stopping them in the path. “Where's the stables?” His eyes didn’t meet the stranger, he just started looking off into the distance. The man shakily replied back, “Y-y-you need to go just north to the b-border of h-he-here,” The male’s lip started to quiver. He was younger than Max thought him to be, he let his shoulder go and he quickly strolled from where Max was. “Come on,” The yak behind him let out a long call, it was loud and obnoxious, people seemed to be annoyed by his presence.

Eventually, the barn came into sight. There were a few people, standing by each other looking towards a thick mare. The drama came into sight when a speeding steed hauled towards them. One of them seemed to stop it and calm it down. “Look, maybe that one can tame ya,” Max chuckled, placing a hand on Yak’s horn and tussling with him. It was late in the afternoon and Max didn’t want to leave his luggage and animal out in the wild without his protection. There was a tall, young man, a shorter one, another tall one, and one even taller than Max, but obviously younger. The only female in the scene was the one cooing the ferocious steed. He walked past the three men, thinking them of buyers as he strolled towards the female. His yak was dead silent as they walked along. “Maximillian Trujillu,” Max bowed to the lady, he didn’t know how to address others in the town of Fellborn, so with his knowledge, he went with a bow. “I heard from the townspeople that you own this farm, I’d like to store my friend in one of your stables over the night,” He patted the yak beside him. It was covered in bags and pouches, yet the most obvious thing was it’s odd-looking saddle and reins.