Dan was tired. Oh so tired. He had been out in the wilds on a scouting mission for the tribe the last few days. Even though he loved to be in the woods, especially now when spring was finally arriving up in the North as well, it was always pleasant to have a good night's sleep in his own bed in the ger. Except that he woke up a few hours before sunrise. He couldn’t fall asleep again and he had no idea why.
He laid still, with closed eyes. Listened to his own breathing and Tungulrias. The black female had placed herself near the oven, her little friends cuddled in her cozy fur. The white stoat and the little red raccoon. Both she had found as babies somewhere outside and brought them into the ger, caring for the little creatures as they were puppies. She defended them vigorously whenever one of her packmates got too near to them.
And then the young man heard it. A noise which didn’t quite fit in. A scraping noise, tiny feet scratching over wood. A rustling, like feathers. Feathers?
Dan sat up, scanning the inside of his ger with his eyes. Did a wild bird snuck inside? Maybe they had found his grain storage while he was absent. But he had asked Tana to check now and then and the shaman girl would have noticed and told him for sure.
His movement had woken the red raccoon, which started to move as well and woke Tungulria. The black female opened her tea red eyes, piercing in the vast blackness of the ger in the night. Her muzzle moved slightly when she sniffed the air. There was an unfamiliar scent in the air. And strange noises, ones she had never heard inside the ger before. She lifted her head, causing the little white stoat to roll down her neck and land on her back. It protested, then blinked and focused on something near the entrance. Dan turned his head, just to catch a quick glance on a small shadow moving around before it vanished in the darkness of the ger’s corners. He sighed. Did that really had to happen now? It was the middle of the night. Did he not deserve some nice sleep in a cozy and warm bed?
Apparently he did not. Tossing the furs away he used as blankets the young Canadian got up on his feet. Walking over the cold ground he tried to not walk into anything while getting to the oven and light up a little lamp. In the meanwhile, Tungulria got up on her paws as well and was carefully stalking the little creature, whatever it was. Dan hold up the lamp high in the air, it’s shine revealing some more of the secret intruder. There were indeed feathers lying around. Dan picked one up. It was a small one, reddish in colour. No particular pattern or anything else that could have told him with what kind of bird he was dealing with. The way Tungulria approached it must be still on the ground. That was kinda confusing. Maybe it’s wing was broken or it was hurt in another way? Dan checked the ground more carefully, but couldn’t find any traces of blood.
A bark, a loud cackle and then a bang as Tungulria collided with his large wooden drawer. A chicken ran away, cackling loudly and spread its wings. HOW ON EARTH did a chicken get inside his ger? He was pretty sure someone in the tribe had some chickens, but they were usually very well guarded. Around so many Tokotas they had to be. Even though most were good trained, there were always one or two that liked to cause havoc. Dan knew, he owned some of them himself.
Another sigh escaped his shoulders while Tungulria stepped close to him. He leaned against her shoulder, taking comfort in her big warm body. “Hey big girl. Now what do we do with that bugger? We can’t just let it stay loose in here. Either you or your little friends would hunt it down I’m sure. And destroy the ger during the process. And I can’t really have it laying eggs all around the place as well. Or getting into my supplies…” Of course Tungulria didn’t understand a single word of what he was talking about, but it helped to sort his thoughts and get his mind clear. His supplies! That could work.
He commanded Tungulria to lie down again, guarding the part of his ger where he stored food. In a multitude of jars, pots and containers were grain, rice, pickled vegetables, dried fruits, nuts, salt and other durable things stowed away. Dan quickly grabbed a shirt and some pants to put on. Then he went to the fireplace, searching for some of the small, thin kindle he used as fire starters. Together with a bit of a thin rope he managed to tinker a very makeshift looking cage, also functioning as a trap. At least he hoped that it would.
Dan wrapped the cage into one of his scarfs, leaving only the entrance open. Back in his childhoods some neighbours had chickens as well, and they needed some sort of nest to lay eggs into. The Neighbours had build boxes, in which the chickens would lay. Dan hoped that particular chicken in his ger would think of it as a nest too.
Placing the makeshift cage near the entrance, Dan tried to guess where the chicken was at the moment. Judging by the glances of the stoat and raccoon it must be somewhere around his bed. The young man grabbed a handful of grains out of a pot and scattered it in a loose path from the bed to the cage. Then he sat down next to Tungulria and waited.
With his back leaned against the black females rump, her breathing heaving his own body up and down, Dan’s eyes quickly closed. With a soft chirp, almost unhearable and more of a rumbling through her chest, Tungulria woke her handler up. In his lap laid the raccoon and the stoat, closely cuddled together. And the chicken… the chicken had pecked up almost all the grain and was nestled in the cage! Dan tore at the rope, which connected to the stick that hold up one side of the cage. The stick fell, and with it the cage’s door. The chicken was trapped! Quick now! He stood up, not looking at the protesting critters that fell from his lap, approached the cage in which the chicken was cackling loudly and closed the cage’s door tieing it to the other parts.
Daimhin quickly turned around and glanced back they way she had come from. Nothing. Again. The path was empty, like it had been the previous bazillion times. Was she getting crazy? The girl shook her head, red locks swirling around, golden earrings tinkling. Onwards!She kept going, trying to not turn around every now and then. But they were here again. Giant shadows, following her, haunting her. She could see them, but never clearly. They always were just out of sight, avoiding her gaze. Sometimes she even could make out flashes of colour. Two were reddish, two dark, and one some kind of creamy colour. They danced around her, followed her, waited for her around the next corner just to vanish as soon as she reached it.
The girl pressed her fluffy green gloves on her eyes. Did the creamy one just look like a giant wolf? That could not be. It was impossible. She was in Ireland, there was no such thing like giant wolves or even dogs out here. Even if they broke out of some zoo or whatever, it would have been all over the news. Daimhin hurried to get home.
In the cozy warmth of her apartment the haunted feeling vanished. The red haired girl took off the thick winter clothes, hung the cloak on the hook, threw gloves and cap on the floor and kicked off her boots. Thank god, it was friday! That meant two days free of her usual office hours. After a quick meal and a glass of red wine in front of the TV, Daimhin quickly doze off.
The shadows had followed her to her dreams. But they weren’t as unreachable as before. Daimhin stood on a clearing, in the midst of a wild forest. It had no similarities to what she knew from her home. It looked harsh and unforgiving, yet beautiful and enchanting. And around her were the five beasts. Watching her out of piercing eyes. Wild eyes.
There was a big male, dashingly red coated, face and paws as dark as a starless night. Daimhins feet seemed to float over the lush spring grass as she approached him unwillingly. Her dainty, small hand placed itself on his forehead. The girl quickly wondered about all the elegant gold rings around her fingers and the playfully intertwined chains connecting them.
“You are strength, Aonghus. Strength and will.” Her voice said, even though it had something ethereal she still recognized it to be hers. Daimhin was herself, but still had no control over her body whatsoever.
She float-walked to the next beast. This one was smaller, of a brighter coat. Her mane was breathtaking, long fur covering her neck and belly like a giant stola. Once again her hand raised without her doing. “You’re intelligence, Fiachra. Intelligence and Eagerness”
For god’s sake what did she dream? Daimhin asked herself while her so called body was floating to the next giant wolf thing.
The dark fur appeared dusty, but the eyes sparkled. “You’re joy, Dheannaigh, joy and cleverness” - what the hell was going on?
Within a blink of an eye her hand was placed on the next forehead. The black and light grey animal looked at her. “You’re friendliness, Tungulria, friendliness and curiosity”
Did her crazyshamanwhateverdreamalias ever heard of the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’? Daimhin wondered.
She seemed to face the last one in the row. Another reddish coat, but with a hint of grey and lots of white dots on it. Again that hand on your forehead thing. “You’re creativity, Rionnag. Creativity and Imagination”.
Daimhin did wonder for a moment how such a creature should be able to be creative. Or whatever else her dream-me had babbled to those giant creatures. What the heck.
When she woke, her room was only lit by the dim light of the TV. It must be late, she thought. On the screen was a flickering image of an old man. A professor of languages, explaining some common or not so common irish names. ‘Aonghus was the name of several kings, it is believed to stand for strength or force.’ the old man said.
Aonghus.. wasn’t that the name of one of the beasts she had dreamed off? Aonghus, Fiachra, Dheannaigh, Tungulria and Rionnag. She counted them down using her fingers. What a weird dream. She could remember it surprisingly well, the images very clear and lively. She could still feel the strength of Aonghus body, the intelligent gaze of Fiachra.
She shook her head. Bullshit. There was no such thing as giant, flashy coloured wolf creatures. And they didn’t have names and their own kind of characters. For sure not.
She switched canals. A late night show about wolves. Oh great. One looked like Tungulria, almost the same face markings. Daimhin pinched herself. “Girl, seriously. Stop thinking about it, it was just a dream.” She muttered to herself. Again she changed the canal. A documentary about a painter. An image appeared on the screen, a very vivid sunrise, orange sky with a lot of stars and some grey clouds. Rionnags coat looked almost like that.
“Fuck it!” Daimhin almost screamed, pushed the TVs button so hard her finger hurt and went straight to bed.
But sleep didn’t help. Again she found herself on the clearing, surrounded by Aonghus, Fiachra, Dheannaigh, Tungulria and Rionnag. She sat in the middle of it, legs crossed, her red hair almost touching the lush green grass. It tickled her bare toes. She was wearing a creamy dress, hold in place by various golden rings around her arms, neck, waist and hips. And everywhere were the small chains, jingling with every motion of hers.
Daimhin’s head felt heavy. As if she was balancing a book on it’s top. It was Dheannaigh that approached her first, and in the tea red eyes she could see the rack growing on her head. Endowed with the same jewelry, it seemed to fit there like it was the most normal thing to have a rack growing out of one's head.
It was overwhelming, but felt right at the same time. Daimhin didn’t know what to think or do. And all of a sudden, she grew tired. Oh so tired. The grass beneath her was soft, and so she lied down and fell asleep.
It was Rionnag who approached the sleeping, red haired girl first. She sniffed at her creamy dress and the bright antlers growing out of her skull. Their bases were hidden between the red locks of her hair beneath the countless small golden chains of her jewelry.
Rionnag placed herself next to her, aligning her side to Daimhin’s back.
Dheannaigh was next. The dusty looking female joined her sister, protecting the girl’s front side. Rionnag placed her head on Dheannaigs tale, and so did her sister.
Adding to this inner circle of protection, Fiachra cuddled herself up to the other giant beasts near the girls head, while Tungulria placed herself down to the redhead's feet.
Aonghus glanced over the lush spring clearing one last time, scanning the woods around. With a huff and a sigh he laid down between his females. It was all good now. They would keep her safe until she had to be found. A sigh heaved Fiachras breast, Dheannaigh's paw twitched as she dreamed. Tungulria even snored softly. The flaming red male closed his eyes as well. It wouldn't be a long rest for him.
I don't know how you, dear reader, stumbled upon my page and decided to read this little bio/introduction thingie. (stalker? ) I am a swiss girl, currently studying veterinary medicine and hope to actually become a vet one day. (which is only about two years ahead from now, so on my way! )
In my scarse free time I ride two young horses (both 4 1/2 yo geldings), cuddle with my dog, draw, read, game... You can tell, way too many things for way too little time.
I just draw for fun, which means I have active and not so active phases, they alternate pretty quickly and I stopped stressing about that because it won't change anything. If I'm in the mood you'll see a lot of me, if not there's a chance I don't upload anything in weeks.