This thread is for character development and self-story telling for my coterie. Feel free to enjoy the tales.
Deep in the warrens slept many 'ryhn, dreaming of the coming spring. This group, which had started out with only a handful of members, had since grown to include various gemkin and personalities. The three mates shared an offshoot of the main warrens, encompassing enough room for them and their new younglings to sleep and hoard. Vi, Kyl, and Enele always curled up together in a warm, snuggle-y nest; the half sisters sleeping in their own nest nearby. Similar scenes repeated everywhere else, with close friends curled up together for warmth in the chilly night. One among their number, however, was not keen on sleeping this night.
In fact, Zandyr did not sleep most nights. Instead, he roamed the surrounding woods, ears, nose, and eyes alert for any possible dangers to his home. The only thing he had encountered so far was a lone wilvern, and that was some time ago. It had easily been chased away; it had been alone, and Zandyr had been accompanied that evening by another night-stalker, Kish'afina. The young go'ryhn had flapped her wings angrily at it, while he ran around it, snapping at it from various angles. The creature had squawked off angrily. No sign of it since. No sign of any threat at all, really. Still, he was restless, and felt it was his duty to guard the others.
Tonight, he was alone, even Kish having preferred the warmth of the dens over the chill night air. Of course, not many had his thick fur. Pacha might be out here, too. I'll check the meadow for her. Like him, the ma'ryhn preferred the outside of the dens, especially now that she had a companion of her own gemkin to show around. The second had not yet revealed her name, being very, very shy of the others, but the scent of honeysuckle was often on the breeze, despite the snow on the ground. Zandyr had guessed this was her scent, just as the smell of a storm was Pacha's. He lifted his large head to the wind, thinking he had scented her. No, not her, but there was a delectable scent in the air. Aaah, looks like someone missed a cluster of berries near the stream. Well, I've found them now. With a happy wave of his tail, Zandyr bounded off.
He was not to be disappointed: there, just off the bank, was a bush, half-hidden and fully forgotten. Mouth watering, he nipped off a mouthful and chewed, the sweet juices running down his chin. The flavor burst in his mouth like tangy honey. Though tempted to eat them all, he refrained. Someone else could have the rest. He'd only wanted a taste of sweetness to ward off the winter blues. Satisfied, he padded over to the stream, bending down to lap at the water. So cold it was filled with tiny ice crystals, and so invigorating! He shivered with delight. A tiny sound, not far off but coming closer; his ear twitched in its direction. Too large to be anything edible, no familiar scent or sending. With practiced ease, Zandyr melted into the shadows, to see what was making the noise.