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+---- Thread: valley of the shadow of death // open + hunting lodge (/showthread.php?tid=2203)
valley of the shadow of death // open + hunting lodge - melantha - 06-19-2018
[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt;"][color=black]// some mood music: click
Moving into the human town? Melantha usually passively goes along with whatever Jacob says because she respects him immensely, but the ingrained prejudice against humans prevents her from merrily going along with the choice to inhabit the town where a bunch of would-be murderers once resided. Nothing good ever comes from the no-good two-legged bastards. Even if there are individuals who are not inherently cruel, it is the human prerogative to choke the life out of the places in which they live. Whether it is by means of poisoning food and water through unethical chemical usage or trash pollution, over-hunting prey animals, or simply destroying habitat, humans are bad news all around. And Melantha does not trust that they will simply just...stay gone..even if Snowbound chased them out. The huntress is inclined to believe that if they simply slaughtered the stupid two-legs and staged it to look like everyone went crazy and murdered each other, it would have been the better option. Or to just kill them and continue killing every wave of idiots who replaced them, but most people do not share her more...aggressive approach. Much to her chagrin.
Normally, the young predator does a fairly good job disguising her contrasting opinion from her more liberal clanmates, but currently, she's too pissed to care. And too paranoid. And too scared. The scars where a human hunter filled her with arrows after she lurked too close to a herd of sheep seem to burn the closer in proximity she moved to the village. In a herd of hundred of ewes, what difference would it make if she ate the one that collapsed from old age? How would it harm the humans for her to eat a creature already close to death, especially when she was starving, too? Instead, the humans decided to try and kill her. Try. Even when knocking at death's door, the girl is far too stubborn to give up her claim to life. So she ran and ran, never stopping no matter how many arrows pierced her flesh.
The taste of iron in her mouth tears Melantha from the memory. She has been pacing for hours, going in and out of almost every single building in the area in search of remaining humans or weapons. Already, she has disabled many bear traps and other snares that were left behind. Some of them still clamped around unlucky animals who died from starvation or bleeding out. She made sure they were given a proper burial. There is now only one section of the village that Mel has left to secure. It is rural; less shops and businesses and more ranches. Aside from quaint country cottages and noting the presence of domesticated elk, there is not much here. But the paranoia compels the creature forward, crossing more and more open tundra, following desolate dirt roads in search of any potential threat or enemy. Physically, her body is exhausted, but Mel refuses to acknowledge the ache in her bones.
Calloused paws tread silently across the ground, carrying the predator's lithe figure further and further from the heart of the village. Any onlooker might think her silly, stalking alongside the empty road in spite of nothing but grass and rock going on for miles. But she smells something. Oil and smoke and burnt rubber. The deep tires tracks immortalized in the mud indicate that many vehicles have traveled this way, but to where? Mel is determined to find out, in case it happens to be some secret retreat where the bastards are plotting their revenge. It is not long before a massive cabin looms in the distance, nestled amongst an unusual formation of rocks jutting haphazardly from the earth, presumably the aftermath of a seismic event a million years in the past. Old sleds lay discarded on the side of the main structure, piled lazily on top and to the side of one another. It's not much to look at aside from weathered wood and the glistening pond to the eastern side of the building. Melantha considers leaving it be--based on the distance from camp and her own fatigue, she slowly comes to realize the outrageous extent to which she has humored her paranoia. Motherfucker, she thinks. I've done it again. And this is not the last time it will happen, either.
Faced with the decision to either continue after all this time or give up and take a nap, the lithe predator stands before the aged structure for several minutes, gazing upon the rotting wood and windblown plants with pallid olive eyes. Briefly, she turns back to observe the direction from whence she came, and then back to the sight before her. A deep sigh escapes black lips. Might as well finish what she started, right?
Aged wooden planks creak and moan beneath the weight of the mountain lioness as she begins her ascent up the short flight of steps to the main deck. The front door is an impressive slab of dark oak wood that obviously was imported from elsewhere, and it does not resist when she pushes it open, stepping into the building with caution. Although the place is old, it is clear from the cleanliness of the location and the decor upon entering the main room that it was a well-loved location. What catches her attention first is the array of animal heads mounted on the walls. Trophies. Melantha reels back with disgust, growling at the sight in spite of her being the only living thing present. "Bastards..." Averting her gaze out of respect for the dead, Mel continues further into the building. It appears to be an old hunting lodge, filled with many a trophy of human conquests and memories of days long past preserved within the faded colors of old photographs.
Aside from the corpses of many unfortunate animals, including several mountain lions, Melantha finds the structure to be a nice place in which to hang out or take shelter from storms. She remembers that Jacob mentioned something about scouting out interesting places to be used for...for...something or another. The trophy heads are gruesome, but they can easily be replaced with less morbid objects. While Melantha had not arrived with the intention of making this place her own, something about the idea of taking back a place that was once a shrine to the slaughter of her people appeals to her. Decorating and renovating will have to come later, but there is nothing stopping her from tearing out the things she does not like. So the young huntress gets to work. Hopefully someone might come along and provide assistance, but Melantha is perfectly content on her own.