#it’s a rocky mountain elk sorry SORRY

[muckyschmuck]

damn i should’ve titled this why is every state animal a whitetail deer?…… (the things innards are under the cut )

[the-starry-lycan]

"Mother? Who were those odd wolves we saw at the Ridge?"

"Odd wolves?" Moon tilted her head at her little son. "What do you mean, Howl?"

"They were wolves," Howl yapped, "but they were all runts, I think.. they were small, and they had the same dark fur on their backs. I think we saw three or.. or four of them."

Moon's grey eyes widened. She looked about, scenting the air, knowing the kind of scent she was looking for. Something that was canine, strong and musty.

"Howl, my small one, where-.. where did you see them?" Moon's tone was serious as she stood, careful not to tread on the tangle of legs and tails and ears in the tall grass. Her mate, Havoc, was asleep nearby, exhausted from their latest foray for food.

Howl stood, tipping his nose to a faraway rocky outcrop on the mountain's back. The Ridge. The place that led to the Burn if you crossed it.. a barren zone where the trees lay charred and stumps stretched for miles.

A place where the prey never ran.

"You saw them on the Ridge, then?"

"They were pacing.. like sire when he gets nervous." Howl averted his gaze. "Back and forth.. they kept looking at us."

"When was this?" Moon sat, lying with her pup sitting between her paws. "And where were you that you could see the Ridge so well?"

Howl's ears drooped and he looked down.

"Howl.." Moon felt a prick of worry in her chest. "Howl, I promise, you are not in trouble."

"I.. I'm sorry! You told us not to stray, but.. Thunder and I.." Howl yelped, tail tucked. "..We didn't mean to go so far, and.. and when we saw them we ran back!"

"Oh..." Moon hugged the curve of her neck around her little one. As much as it filled her with fear to hear this.. she was just glad to hear that Howl and Thunder hadn't been hurt. Worry and anxiety danced in the pale she-wolf's chest like mule deer bucks in the rut. If they'd run back, then those things.. would know where the pups were. Where all of them were.

They needed to move, and fast.

"Come on, now," Moon said, nosing her pups awake. "We must go!"

The little wolves, not much more than two months, wobbled as they stood. They blinked up at the night sky, eyes closing still from sleep. Havoc had gotten up in a flash, pacing around the area, scenting the air for the smaller, vicious canines.

"Howl.." Moon said softly to her fuzzy brown pup. "..They.. the animals you saw.. they are not wolves."

The pup's eyes widened in shock. "Then what are they?"

"Coyotes." Moon said, turning her head to the ridge. "A long time ago, they were like us, but their ways are different from ours. They do not like us wolves."

Howl dipped his head, a frightened look on his face. "They want to.. to hurt us, right?"

Moon nodded. It pained her to teach her pups this, but it was necessary. The whole world was after them. Pumas, coyotes, eagles and bears.. none would stop 'till they were dead.

"My little one, Howl, as long as you are careful, you will be safe." Moon woofed, calling the others to her. "You can recognize coyotes as not-wolves by the fur on their backs, their rank scent, and their thin figures."

"Why do they want to hurt us?"

"Because they want our prey."

"Why can't we share? Like you and sire share what you hunt?"

Moon let out a soft, barking laugh. "They want it all to themselves. But there are so many of them.. that the prey ends up never enough, no matter what."

Howl looked back to the Ridge as they started walking for the night, towards what Moon knew as their summer den.

“Is.. is that's why they're so small and skinny?"

Moon looked up as well. She could see the Ridge from a distance. She'd walked that place, knew its hostile conditions. The herds of deer, elk, and pronghorn never stayed there. Not even wolves wanted to roam that place.. after all, there was nothing there for them in that barren land. A wolf was lucky if they could find even a hare or two to fill their belly for a bit. Mice and voles were hardly any sustenance.

We may not share our food, our lives.. but.. we share our lands, still. And no animal should have to raise their pups there.. not even them.

But there was nothing that would change this. The coyote pack was almost thirty strong, and they were fierce. No wolf pup caught in their grasp would escape their jaws. And they'd make sure of it.

"Yes," she murmured softly. "And my alpha told me that it is for the better."

Even if it isn't.

The mother turned back to the Summer Place, nudging her pups away from that cursed Ridge. She would keep them safe, no matter what. These pups... they were everything.

[kaccvcate]

Recommended Reading List:

Magick in Theory and in Practice - Aleister Crowley

Principia Discordia - Malaclypse the Younger

Zen Without Zen Masters - Camden Benares

Cosmic Trigger: Final Secrets of the Illuminati - Robert Anton Wilson (fill out the captcha and click "download original pdf" - the other link seems to be fake)

Black Elk Speaks

The Mohawk Warrior Society - Louis Karioniaktajeh Hall

1491 New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles C. Mann

Fiction:

The Void Captain's Tale - Norman Spinrad

Tailchaser's Song - Tad Williams

The Magicians - Lev Grossman

Illuminatus - Bob Shea and Robert Anton Wilson

The Man Who Folded Himself - David Gerrold

The Three Imposters - Arthur Machin

Comics:

Cerebus - Dave Sim

Elfquest - Wendy Pini

Pogo - Walt Kelly

Little Nemo in Slumberland - Winsor McKay

Fritz the Cat - R. Crumb

Krazy Kat - George Herriman

Scott Pilgrim - Bryan Lee O'Malley

Maus - Art Spiegelman

Homestuck - Andrew Hussie

Live Action Movies/shows:

The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953) <- to my knowledge the only feature that Dr. Seuss worked on

Dementia (or Daughter of Horror) (1955) <- experimental horror movie with no dialogue

The Prisoner (1967-68) <- like if you combined James Bond with Alice in Wonderland

Head (1968)

Lucifer Rising (1972) <- watching this movie summons lucifer, so we should all do it lots

Pink Flamingos (1972)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1972)

The Wicker Man (1973)

The Holy Mountain (1973)

Zardoz (1974)

The Forbidden Zone (1979)

The Great Rock and Roll Swindle (1980)

The Decline of Western Civilization (1981)

Roar (1981)

The Young Ones (1982-84)

Stop Making Sense (1984)

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

Lisztomania

Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner

24 Hour Party People (2002)

Electric Apricot: The Quest for Festeroo

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Sorry to Bother You

Kneecap (2024)

(For animated movies I have a whole separate blog and list here)

Animated Shows/short films:

Fleischer's Superman

Batman the Animated Series

Winsor McKay's "The Pet" (and his other short films)

Eek the Cat

The Devil and Daniel Mouse

[pigeonleap]

YOUR FANCLANS ARE SO COOL!!!! i cant wait to see more of them omg! could you share some more on the clairvoyants/prophets and their pilgrimages up the mountain? :o also, did you have anywhere specific in colorado in mind when mapping? it looks gorgeous! and i love the landmark names omg, how'd you come up with those? sorry for all the questions im just very excited about these guys!

YAY thank you so much that means a ton! you're enabling my infodumping I'm about to write 1500 words (serious). Don't ever worry about asking too many ST questions it's all i think about.

Here's a MSPAINT doodle of the girls. hope nothing bad ever happens to them

easy questions first!

ST's set in the northern Colorado Rockies where they border the Great Plains. Somewhere unpopulated in the northern Front Range!

Landmark names are usually named after past leaders/healers/deputies of the Clans, who I just made up on the spot (except I have a Blizzard playthrough on Clangen so I used some of those leaders and important cats.) To come up with a lot of the names I researched local fauna. Colorado has a LOT of elk and a lot of large carnivores! Summer Thunder has a storm motif (did you know) so a lot of the place names have to do with that

I'm going to go ahead and put the Clairvoyant/Prophet stuff under a cut because I write headcanons as I go and it gets so lengthy lol.

SORRY IN ADVANCE. this is like 3/4 just for me so i can put it in my document

Clairvoyants are the cats who would have "a strong connection to StarClan" in canon text. StarClan (usually called the Stars in-universe) are not an explicit thing or confirmed. There is something spiritual going on, but it's a lot more like a Primal Force than it is "My Dead Aunt Says Hello To Me In My Dreams." The technical name for cats who are tuned in to this spirituality is "Clairvoyants", though it's an ambiguous label and not something that ever puts cats into a group. Most cats aren't clairvoyant or are to a very low degree (this works since level of clairvoyance in any universe doesn't affect how much you believe in a higher power).

Prophets, a role found only in StormClan, are kind of like canon Medicine Cats except I separated the role into its composite Prophet and Healer. Some cats are both, in which case they'll call themselves whichever one makes more sense - usually Prophet because it's rarer and so it can feel closer to your identity. A Prophet is sort of like how Ancient Greek Oracles were. They are rare and usually have a medium to extremely high level of Clairvoyance. (ex. Leafpool, Goosefeather.) Their role, like medcats, is to speak as the Stars' voice and share wisdom with the Clan. The Stars do not "give prophecies" in the literal sense that they do in canon - cats interpret things how they will, like we would in real life. It's easy to think of an omen or prophecy if you want to hear one.

Storm cats just take it really seriously because they REALLY love the Stars. They have a higher genetic predisposition of Clairvoyants, so they have become really connected to spirituality and piety. They believe in fate and destiny and will use the Stars to justify any achievement. Naming ceremonies often go like "You are so lucky to be blessed by the Stars with such amazing jumping skills - your new name will be Pigeonleap." (Maybe Pigeonleap just got really good at jumping because he trained for his entire apprenticeship. It doesn't matter. It's the Stars.)

Pilgrimages, which I may start calling something cool (like the Prophet's Ascent maybe?) are taken by aspiring Prophets when they want to prove their connection to the Stars. Prophets are usually apprenticed to someone who is also Clairvoyant/a Prophet or a Healer if there isn't one. When they reach the end of their apprenticeship they are sent to hike Cloud's Tooth via Thunder Ridge/Lightning Point. Usually their mentor will follow them as far as the path from the Ridge up to Lightning Point (I'm thinking this is like a day's hike), but the mentor in most cases has already done the hike and is not interested in doing it again.

Cloud's Tooth is tall (probably around 9-11,000ft???) and not too forgiving. Cats are sent when the weather is predicted to be good, but anyone who's been to the Rockies knows that can change in about five minutes. The Clans are crepuscular in my universe like regular cats, so, in the interest of safety, cats usually just try to hike the mountain during the day. It can be 7-9 hours to the summit. They spend the night at the top and the Stars speak to them (whatever that means for the particular cat.) No one else except Prophets hikes this mountain, not even people - it's rocky, without water in most places, and very windy. And slick when wet. And worse when snowy. And you'll notice all the surrounding landmarks have something to do with storms.

That being said - a cat who makes it up and down again is pretty much guaranteed the Prophet role. Otherwise, they probably just fell to Stardom down a scree slope.

[fatehbaz]

Ah man I'm so glad you made that post about ski resorts and racism, I never see content about the effects of ski resorts on the land. Keeping jumbo wild was a huge W and I was so glad to see it, and I hope it puts pressure on the people trying to push zincton through. I actually haven't heard much abt the zincton project lately, do you know of any updates? Thanks again for the content, so rarely hear other voices online from the inland temperate rainforest

Hey, thank you so much for the message. I know you’re also a fan of the region. Glad you saw that post and said something to me. :)

Yes, there has been some new media coverage of Zincton as of November 2020. And can I use this as an opportunity to say a couple of things about this rainforest? Sorry in advance for rambling and all of this text.

Right? The downfall of the Jumbo project was uplifting. Ski resorts obviously (like many “parks” in US and Canada) involve Indigenous dispossession and obscuring/erasure of histories and lives. (Details from that article: US sky resort visitors are 88% white, and half make over $100 thousand a year.)  As for voices from the inland temperate rainforest: Gotta mention that the province of BC goes to such great lengths to silence the voices of the Sinixt people, declared “extinct” by the Canadian government and whose traditional territory includes much of the inland temperate rainforest (between 2016 and 2020, BC has fought against the Sinixt and their request for recognition, appealing every ruling, culminating in an October 2020 Supreme Court hearing). BC institutions like to claim the inland temperate rainforest as a “treasure” or “prize”, a “globally-unqiue” ecosystem, as a sort of entitlement or patrimony; meanwhile, the province of BC legally fights the Sinixt in court, ignores the caribou extinction, and still issues dozens of logging/timber and clear-cut contracts in the inland temperate rainforest each year. That said, the end of Jumbo was good news.

For anyone unfamiliar: Jumbo was a ski resort mega-development project planned for the Purcell Wilderness on Ktunaxa traditional territory right in the heart of the inland temperate rainforest region of interior so-called British Columbia, in old-growth cedar-hemlock forest, on the edge of glaciers, and in the middle of key habitat of southern mountain caribou, grizzly, wolverine, mountain lion, lynx, wolf, elk, mountain goat, marten, fisher, etc. The Glacier Resorts-owned project would’ve been “the single largest ski resort in North America” including a “resort base” of at least 110 hectares, a hotel with over 5,500 beds, and an expectation of over 3,000 visitors a day. The Ktunaxa had opposed the project since 1991, and took a case to federal Supreme Court. In January 2020, the Ktunaxa were able to buy-out the project, and the Jumbo area will now be managed as a formal Indigenous Protected Area.

The new Zincton resort is also being built on Ktunaxa and Sinixt land, about 70 kilometers away from the former Jumbo resort site.

Traditional territories:

And yes, there are some updates on Zincton from November 2020.

@moss-effect -- I know that you already know this stuff. But for anyone unfamiliar:

The Zincton resort is being constructed only about 70-ish kilometers or so away from where the Jumbo resort was planned. Zincton is also on Ktunaxa territory, as well as traditional land of the Sinixt. Zincton (being built near Valhalla and Goat Range, between Naksup and Kaslo) expects a “grand opening” in December 2021. The project is run by the owner/founder of a local outfitter/recreation company. As of November 2020, BC’s Mountain Resorts Branch is still reviewing the owner’s formal proposal. Zincton sits closer to even more extensive old-growth forest and major protected areas.

Zincton also seems to be a manifestation of that now-classic category: “progressive” settler-colonial entrepreneurs from coastal BC, the Pacific Northwest, and/or Rocky Mountain West are familiar with local rhetoric and therefore elude criticism by rebranding their extractive and development projects as “eco-friendly”. According to The Narwhal (November 2020) the owner/project leader had this to say about the project: “There is a real story here of a proven disruptor facing down the mob to do one last project for the kids and grandkids. … Jobs for locals, a future for families, saving the hospital. Zincton is the Tesla of the ski village business.”

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Also, for context: Here’s a post I made about the inland temperate rainforest, its ecology/geography, and its endemic creatures. Here’s a post from June 2020 about the Zincton resort development. Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline/summary and maps describing the extinction of southern mountain caribou in 2019 (southern mountain caribou are a local icon, completely endemic to this region, and are highly endangered; caribou were declared extinct in the contiguous United States in 2019 when the last of the southern mountain caribou were relocated farther north to BC). Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline following the Sinixt case to receive formal recognition from BC/Canada in 2019 and 2020 (much of the rainforest, including the Zincton site, is within Sinixt traditional territory; the Canadian government declared the Sinixt “extinct” in the 1950s).

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Location of core cedar-hemlock forest of inland temperate rainforest region, compared with distribution range of the southern mountain caribou:

Photos I took of stream habitat in inland temperate rainforest:

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Coincidentally, just a couple of days ago, The Narwhal just released an “explainer” dedicated to the Zincton: Paul Fischer. “Why B.C.’s Zincton resort, the proposed ‘Tesla of ski villages,’ is worrying conservationists.” The Narwhal. 27 November 2020.

Zincton claims that it is a “radical departure from the status quo” and will be a “carbon-zero” resort. But local groups oppose the project, including Wildsight, West Kootenay Eco Society, and locally-famous Valhalla Wilderness Society. (The core of the inland temperate rainforest is sometimes referred to as “Valhalla” or “Caribou Rainforest”.) The project also claims that the resort’s focus on so-called “eco-tourism” is a good way to “grow and replace economic decline,” which you might perceive to be a settler-colonial interpretation of the “value” of the forest and also suggests that the concern here is, of course, making money. From Fischer’s article: ‘In a series of emails with The Narwhal, Harley [the project leader] dismissed environmental concerns. He said impacted grizzly habitats are low quality and categorized the criticism from certain environmental groups as a “copy and paste” campaign motivated by a desire to oppose everything rather than contribute constructively.’

These quotes can be found in the article:

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Here’s some other stuff:

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Headlines from the Jumbo resort news:

The Sinixt case:

Southern mountain caribou herd decline in the inland temperate rainforest between 1990 and 2018. The Zincton resort will directly affect Purcells South, Central Selkirks, and South Selkirks herd.

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And I want to say that both the Ktunaxa and Sinixt people have recently been undermined, insulted, and dispossessed by BC and development projects in similar ways. Media, educational material, and conservation groups in BC like to point out that the inland temperate rainforest is “globally-unique” (in that it’s really the planet’s only sizable “coastal-type temperate rainforest” existing inland and away from a coast). And you’ll see the inland temperate rainforest described with terms like: prized, treasure, gem, hidden/secret rainforest, etc. And the region is discussed in settler-colonial terms/concepts (”BC’s forgotten rainforest,” “BC’s other rainforest”, “a magnificent carbon cache”, “unparalleled resource”) as if it is the patrimony of the province of BC or Canadian state. Which of course is problematic because it (1) associates the forest’s importance with bioprospecting/scientific extractivism, carbon sequestration, or other metrics of settler-colonial “value,” and also because (2) the province of BC continues to fight very hard against recognizing the land as part of Sinixt territory (after Sinixt people and allies were able to win cases against BC, the province continued to appeal, and this case has now culminated in the October 2020 hearing at the federal Supreme Court, which will soon make a final ruling on whether or not Sinixt people are legally allowed land rights to harvest, travel, etc. within BC).

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Here’s a map:

From 2018, there is this book:

In the US, too, parks, like ski resorts, are implicated in Indigenous dispossession.

Glacier National Park (at the border of BC, Alberta, and Montana) sits on the edge of the Kootenay and inland temperate rainforest regions. Conservation groups, universities, and other US institutions have taken to calling Glacier part of “the Crown of the Continent” (another possessive/patrimonial term maybe?), a portion of the heavily-glaciated Canadian Rockies that kinda includes Banff and Jasper, too. Glacier National Park is on Ktunaxa and Blackfeet territory. A recently published book that might be interesting: People Before the Park: The Kootenai and Blackfeet Before Glacier National Park. Sally Thompson, Kootenai Cultural Committee, and Piikuni Traditional Association. 2015

Described by Montana Public Radio in 2017: “Step [...] into the world of the Kootenai and Blackfeet peoples, whose traditional territories included the area that is now Glacier National Park. [...] In this book, the Kootenai and Blackfeet tribes share their traditions -- stories and legends, foodways and hunting techniques, games and spiritual beliefs.”

Just a special place.

Thank you for saying something.

[rune-writes]

A New Beginning

Fandom: Studio Ghibli | Mononoke Hime

Word count: 1988

Rating: G

Summary: It's been months since the Deer God's demise and the woods are thriving again. One evening, after a day's work of rebuilding a new village, Ashitaka visits San in the forest as per his promise, bringing with him a meal the villagers made for her.

Note: this is a piece I wrote for @ghiblicookbook. I got to write about Princess Mononoke with dinner as the main theme.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

The forest was quiet that evening. Nothing but the sound of the hooting owl, the rustles of leaves against the breeze, and the rhythmic thudding of Yakul’s hooves against the ground. The kodamas were watching with their smiles on their white illuminated bodies, the soft clicking of their shaking heads filling his senses. It had been several months since the men tried to take the Deer God’s head, and now the woods were thriving again.

Ashitaka was on his way to San’s home, riding on his elk as it made its way over uneven ground and upturned roots. Their path lit only by the moonlight filtered in through the gaps in the dark foliage. It had been a while since he was last there. Rebuilding a new village in the mountains hadn’t been an easy task.

However, that evening, just a little after sunset, Ashitaka’s work had finished unexpectedly early, and he wanted to see how San was doing. He was leading Yakul out of the stable by the reins when Eboshi called for him.

“Are you going to see the Wolf Girl?” Eboshi asked.

“San,” Ashitaka corrected. At Eboshi’s raised brow, he repeated himself. “Her name is San.”

Eboshi cleared her throat. “Yes, San, then. Are you going to see San?”

“Yes.”

Eboshi didn’t say anything. She only turned her head and nodded over her shoulder. Toki stepped forward from behind her, carrying a box wrapped in a modest red cloth.

“Dinner,” Toki explained. “From us. To her.” A genuine smile. “You haven’t had any, right? It’s enough for two.”

“Thank you,” Ashitaka said. He took the box from her. It was heavy.

“A peace offering,” Eboshi elaborated. Ashitaka looked at her and was surprised to see the prideful lady grimacing. “I doubt she would accept it readily, but this is a start.”

I see.

Ashitaka tightened his grip on the box, feeling it weighed down with the responsibility it carried. “I will relay your message,” he promised.

Eboshi smiled. “Thank you, Ashitaka. I’m sorry for making your leisure trip into one of an envoy.”

Ashitaka laughed at that. In all honesty, he had long since felt that he was an envoy between the Ironworks people and the Forest Gods.

The line of trees fell away and the path Ashitaka treaded with Yakul opened into a hill and rocky outcrop. Up a series of boulders stacked high against each other, his elk trotted upwards to the grassy patch near the top. An opening between the rocks led to the cave where San slept at night. It was empty. No signs of fire, flint, or stone. Not even any sign of her white wolves. Only the undisturbed bed of leaves that made up the cave floor.

Ashitaka headed out to the jutting rock overlooking the mountains, wondering if he could spot San among the darkness. But there were only the clear sky and the cool night wind greeting him as he stood by the ledge.

Instead of eating her, I raised her as my own, a voice rose from the distant reaches of his memories. My poor, ugly, beautiful daughter.

Ashitaka looked up, almost expecting to see the great white wolf lounging on the boulder’s flat surface above him, her eyes filled with reproach, asking him a question he couldn’t answer. How could you help her? But the space was empty. Moro was nowhere to be found.

Ashitaka felt the weight of the wrapped box in his hands. He hadn’t been able to answer that question before; he didn’t know if he had the answer now. But he had promised Moro he would save San, and that was what he was going to do.

“Ashitaka?”

The soft call came from behind him. Ashitaka looked over his shoulder and found San emerging from the cave’s mouth. He smiled at her. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” San replied, joining him by the ledge. “I was surprised to find Yakul outside, but here you are.” A quiet laugh. “What brings you here?”

“I promised we’d come see you whenever we can, right?” he said. “Well, we can now. And look—” Ashitaka lifted the wrapped box, “—I bring gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“The villagers made it,” he went on, making his way inside the cave. He sat down on the hard floor between the leaf bed and the cave mouth before laying down the box in front of him. Untying the knot and opening the lid, Ashitaka found a stacked food container inside, with a couple bowls, spoons, and a ladle.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. You haven’t had any, right?” He had caught sight of the fruits, berries, and some plants in San’s hand when she came to meet him out on the ledge.

“No, but—”

“Come on, then.” He patted the space next to him with a grin. From the scent wafting up from the container, Ashitaka knew their dinner was going to be delicious. If Eboshi really did mean to offer peace, she might have asked Toki to make this especially good.

He used the wrapping cloth as a mat and set the container over them. A bowl and a spoon would mean some sort of soup or congee, but the strong scent of spice coming from the top lid meant there was grilled meat. Beef? Lamb? Or maybe just chicken?

Ashitaka uncovered the top lid and indeed, what he found were skewered meat set neatly in a stacked row. It looked like they had packed in at least thirty skewers. The second container beneath it held what looked to be congee. The rich smell teased his nostrils, pulling his lips into a small smile.

He grabbed the ladle from the box and stirred the congee. There were eggs too, and he could barely smell the pork stock Toki had used. He ladled the congee into each bowl before setting them down on either side.

He then grabbed one of the skewers and took a bite. Lamb meat, it seemed—so soft and juicy as it melted in his mouth. A hint of saltiness, but the spice tasted more prominent. Ashitaka smiled, looking up to his friend still standing by the cave’s mouth. “Try them,” he said, holding the skewer up.

San stared at it, then at the dishes, and shook her head and took a step back. “I’m not touching that.”

“Wh—” Ashitaka gulped down his lamb, “—why?”

“It smells weird. And it looks weird. And did you say it was from the villagers?” San shook her head again. “I’m not eating that.”

Ashitaka sighed. “San—” he began.

“No, Ashitaka!”

“But they’re delicious.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re missing a lot.”

San scowled. She made her point by plopping herself down on the ground and took a large bite off whatever edible root she had brought back from her foraging.

Ashitaka pursed his lips. This was not going how he had wanted it to. Yes, he knew San wouldn’t receive it gladly, but he’d thought if he had omitted Eboshi’s name, she would at least sit down and try some of these. But she didn’t even give him the chance to explain, and Ashitaka saw no way he could let her know about the peace offering.

He looked at the lamb skewer in his hand then glanced up at San, still stubbornly chewing her root, refusing to meet his eyes. He sighed, letting his hand drop to his lap.

“I was going to say that Eboshi wishes to offer peace,” he began. He noticed a stiffening in her shoulders, the way her eyes flitted to him for a fraction of a second and the pause in her bite. He smiled a soft self-deprecating smile. “She knew you wouldn’t accept it readily.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because it’s a start.” Toward peace, and a new beginning. San leveled her gaze at him for a few more moments before pointedly looking away.

Ashitaka waited for one heartbeat, then another, and said, “You really won’t try some? It’s really good.” He took another bite off the lamb. It really was delicious. Toki and the women had probably gone above and beyond to make this.

San plopped a purple berry into her mouth with a huff.

Ashitaka stared at her, before quietly saying, “Moro asked me to look after you.”

That did it, as he knew it would. The mention of Moro’s name was like a hammer breaking through her strong façade. The flash in her eyes as she glared at him—at least she kept her gaze locked with his. And then he saw it, the slight crumbling of her resolve, as she muttered, “That’s not fair.” With a shuddering breath, San drew a long sigh, and went over to sit next to him.

Ashitaka couldn’t help the beam on his face. He grabbed her bowl and held it out to her. “Here, try this.”

“What is this?” she asked, scrunching her face. She took a sniff, then immediately pulled back with a frown and a shake of her head. Ashitaka laughed. If that were enough to repulse her, he wondered how she would react to the lamb’s strong flavor and scent.

“It’s called congee, and it really warms you up.”

She met his gaze again, and he nodded at her encouragingly. He showed her how to use the spoon, and she did as she was told, albeit clumsily. She brought the gruel to her mouth, barely touching the spoon to her lips. A moment’s pause, her tongue lapping at her lips, before she gulped the congee down.

Ashitaka waited with bated breath.

“It’s…good.” Her voice soft, she scooped another spoonful of the dish and ate it without question. Her face broke into a small smile. “It’s really good. What is this—egg?” She ate the entire egg in one go.

“Try this next.” He grabbed one skewer from the container and handed it to her.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Lamb skewers.”

“Lamb?” Her eyes narrowed at it. “It’s burned.”

“It’s grilled, San,” Ashitaka replied with a laugh. “We cook our meat before eating it.”

She gave a noncommittal grunt, but she put her bowl down and grabbed the skewer from him. She eyed it skeptically, took a sniff, and scrunched her nose. “It smells even weirder.” Ashitaka chuckled at that.

San took an experimental bite off the top cube, her jaws moving slowly. She puckered her face, trying get the meat down her throat.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asked, watching her closely.

San swiped her tongue against her mouth before eyeing the lamb again and took another bite. She seemed to have an easier time digesting it now, the grimace on her face transforming into an uncertain frown. “It’s all right, I guess. It tastes…good, but the meat’s not juicy.”

The comment left him dumbstruck. He hadn’t expected it at all. When it finally registered in his mind, bone-shaking laughter overcame him, and San had to pause eating and stare at him. Of course, if he thought about it, the meat wouldn’t be juicy enough for someone who had never eaten anything cooked.

“This doesn’t mean I accept her apology, okay?” she said with a frown. “I’m only eating the food youbrought me. I trust you. I don’t trust her.”

“I know, I know,” Ashitaka said, brushing the tears away from his eyes. “She knows that too.”

“Good then.” A short, clipped answer. San went back to her lamb and took her third bite without any difficulty.

It was hard to keep himself from smiling because this was the girl who had been so adamant on hating humans and the human life, and yet now he was watching her eat human foods with such joy on her face.

“Want me to teach you how to make them? It’s not hard.”

San glanced at him, and there was a small smile on her face as she said, “I’ll think about it.”

~ END ~

[sparkmender]

Close Encounters two and three are now up. Three’s text below (as chap. 2 is the above image + a transcript)

ao3 link click here!

She might be speeding. Just a little.

The occasion called for it, in her opinion, but what was she supposed to tell a cop if she was pulled over? ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Officer, I just want to get home and make sure my boyfriend hasn’t been eaten alive by some sort of massive prehistoric gorilla creature?’

The winding road back down to town felt impossibly long as it stretched out before her, branches and tree trunks whipping past and morphing into one long oppressive blur. Even the radio, tuned to some inane early evening talkshow broadcast with its meaningless chatter and happy voices, wasn’t doing anything to calm her down.

Charlie gripped the steering wheel of her Bug a little tighter, enough to make the skin of her knuckles turn pale, to keep her hands from trembling. Samson had mentioned he was going to fill out an incident report on their way back over to the office, especially since if that sinkhole they’d spotted really was as large as it looked they were going to need to get some heavy-duty equipment out to figure out what was going on with it.

There were the other broken trees to consider, too, and more of those clumps of fur, but what had caught Charlie’s attention— and yet had only gotten the briefest of glances from Samson and which Spike hadn’t even stopped to look at— were the scratches in the ground and on some of the boulders and surrounding trees not only around the wildflower patch but on most of the path leading up to where the rockslide happened.

Whatever had made those marks was doing it on purpose. There was no other explanation. The scratches were repeating themselves, some sort of half-wild writing, maybe, but they were definitely meant as a message. And it was a message Charlie was desperate not to know the meaning of, because something deep in the lizard part of her brain knew whatever it was, it probably wasn’t going to be a friendly greeting.

And Samson was going to send her out tomorrow morning to check on the apiary up there like he hadn’t even seen anything other than the unfortunate tumble of shale and granite in the way.

Despite every fibre of her flight or fight response screaming at her to run home and grab Memo and catch the next flight back to Colorado, she knew she’d have to go. If not, it wasn’t unlikely that some civilian camper might wander out too far and… not come back. At least Spike would be with her. God, she missed college; the Rockies themselves might have been unforgiving at times, but they were beautiful, and she missed being within an hour’s drive of the ski slopes on the weekends.

Oregon had mountains, sure, and Mt. Bachelor’s slopes, but Mt. Bachelor wasn’t Aspen.

Something bellowed further down the road, out of the range of her headlights, sounding like an elk. Charlie slowed almost to a crawl at the noise, not a stranger to spotting some of the deer or moose wandering across the old two-lane road but not particularly eager to have to engage with any of them. Moose especially could be stubborn, and she didn’t have the time to linger on waiting for it to either get a move on or go back the way it came. It was already past dusk, so Memo was probably starting to put the latest article he’d written down for the night so he could get a start on reheating the leftover spaghetti bolognese Charlie had prepped for them both on Saturday and frozen in the nice tupperware she’d had to order from a catalogue.

He’d been childishly excited about getting to pick out the jar of spaghetti sauce when they went shopping together. The memory of it was almost enough to keep her on just this side of the speed limi—

And then something huge and black and purple and screaming hit the passenger side of her car with a deafening shatter of both windows and half of her windshield, the sudden impact jolting her forward against her seatbelt and causing it to jam hard across her chest as her head thumped back against the headrest with a dull thwack. She had just enough time to scream back at it before her Volkswagen was forced off the road proper, the hood crumpling on impact with the rock shelf to the left and giving out with a pathetic, strained groan.

“Shit! Shit, shit—”

Between the sudden lack of light and the seatbelt strap digging into her and refusing to disengage, Charlie was practically a sitting duck if whatever the fuck that screaming thing was decided to take another pass at her, and she couldn’t see or hear it and hadn’t seen where it went but from the brief split-second look she’d gotten of it the thing had looked like a massive, mutated wasp with a human face and huge wasps with human faces were not a thing that existed.

There was that strange sound again, much closer, definitely not a moose, and the seatbelt unlocked and Charlie threw herself out of the car just in time for the… the wasp-person to make a charge at the Beetle again, slamming down on the roof in a furious rush of limbs and wings. She could barely make sense of it in the rapidly deepening dark of the woods, only belatedly realizing some of the glass from the initial impact had cut into her arm and thigh when she felt the hot seep of blood down the side of her pants leg.

Goddamn it, she only has two of these uniforms.

As the violent thing thrashed against the car and punched through the remains of the windshield, the horn went off, which enraged the massive purple and black insect more— it was intent on pulling the car apart, as far as Charlie could tell, but it was completely ignoring the fleshy, bleeding passenger the Volkswagen had spat out. Distantly, Charlie realized the creature was— speaking, shouting, something, but if the hissing and rounded consonants and clicks were a language it was flowing over her like water, incomprehensible beneath the buzz of massive, beating insect wings and the dying splutters of her poor Beetle.

At least, it was ignoring her until she rolled over and tried to push herself up, but her leg wasn’t having any of it and Charlie gasped despite herself, and the wasp-monster froze.

On her knees and probably concussed and definitely losing blood, she swayed, staring up at surprisingly frightened red eyes in return. They were huge and luminous and bizarrely humanoid in a face that, otherwise, was entirely alien; the wasp-person’s (wasp… man’s? wasp lady’s? Actually, who cared) bottom jaw split down the middle into wicked looking mandibles, which twitched and scraped against each other as it jerked back and fled off into the canopy.

What right did this thing have to be afraid of her? It had appeared out of midair, screaming, and wrecked the car she’d spent most of her teenage years saving up for! All she’d done is scream back at it and bleed a little!  

It was gone, anyway, leaving Charlie stranded in the middle of the road with the remains of her Beetle and strange, floating flickers in front of her eyes, like static on the television set.

That’s probably shock setting in, actually. She had classes about first aid, but she can’t remember any of it now, not in the moment when she’s the one hurt and everything feels like it’s happening thirty feet away and underwater. There wasn’t anything to be done about it, other than using the intact door of the Volkswagen to pull herself up so she can strip her uniform shirt off and tear the mostly shredded sleeve free to use it as a makeshift tourniquet while keeping her eyes open in case the—

Winged person… thing. It shimmered, even in the low moonlight, and it made her head ache, but she keeps getting stuck on the eyes. First the blue ones in her window, now the red ones, and there’s some sort of weird glitter all over everything. Charlie sniffles, fighting off the urge to rub her face in favor of yanking the flashlight off of her belt to hold it up.

The glittery dust smeared near the cut on her arm from how she pulled herself up tingles, a little, and as she watches it the cut clots over into an angry looking scab.

Charlie nearly drops the flashlight.

“What the hell. What the hell, is this pixie dust? This isn’t happening. Okay, I hit my head harder than I thought when I hit some kind of animal and now I’m dying. I’m dying and nobody’s even going to find my dead body until tomorrow morning. Go Charlie, hallucinating some kind of fucked-up fairy in the middle of dying!” She seethed, but seeing as she wasn’t immediately, like, actively dying, and there didn’t seem to be any other problems with the snarled-looking scab on her arm other than the fact that it looked kind of awful… Leaning against the rock wall her Beetle had been thrown into, Charlie grits her teeth and feels around the cut in her leg to pull out a— smaller than she’d thought, bigger than she’d hoped— shard of glass before swiping her other hand over the roof of her ruined car and slapping the palmful of gathered glitter onto the gash.

This is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but honestly? It was try this and limp back to the base and campground or sit here and bleed out, or worse, deal with the Tooth Fairy coming back and finishing her off.

The air rushes out of her lungs in a low huff but… It doesn’t hurt. The warm, slippery feeling tapers off, at least, and even if she can’t get herself to look down at it just gently prodding at it confirms that it sealed the wound closed.

Right. No idea how she’s going to explain this to an EMT.

Or Memo.

What the hell was she going to tell Memo?

Her flashlight flickered worryingly. Charlie bit her lip, looking over the wreck that had once been her Volkswagon. Nothing to be done for it, or taken from it, really. She’d refused to so much as keep snacks in the glove compartment after finding bees under the hood, once.

“…Right.”

The beam steadied and she straightened up as best as she could before setting off back the way she came, staring out at the branches— though something told her that if her fairy godmother was coming back, she’d hear that eerie, hollow sound again first.

Well, fine. Let it come back. Maybe she’ll scream at it again, but louder this time, and show it what for.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 66: On the Road Again

Lance makes a confession and tells Keith a story.

First  Previous  Next

Lance’s eyes scan the rocky foothills’ landscape. In the past few vargas, they’ve passed kilns, tanneries, quarries, gardens, orchards, and vineyards tumbling over the uneven terrain beneath the terraced mountain civilization. Now, he and Keith find themselves at the edge of the foothills, where the last of the mountainous landscape fades into rocky tundra. This is a more arid part of Daibazaal, though parts of it are temperate, or even tropical. And then there’s the vast grassy marsh at the equator, which filters all the water south until the continent slips into the sea.

Lance has since learned that the large body of water he’d seen from space is in fact salt water, and it’s so large that crossing it takes an entire quintant.

He won’t see the sea on this visit, but he’s already promised himself he’ll come back. The tundra, however, is spellbinding. On either side of the road are flowers in shades of yellow, pink, blue, orange, and white with thick, waxy, bluish-green leaves. Among the flowering hills with twisty-trunked trees, are small mounds, topped with little towers of stacked stones. Some have toppled over. Others have small nests in the gaps. Others are held in place with vines and foliage.

Cairns, marking ancient burials, Keith told him a ways back.

Ahead is a river, one so wide, so deep, and so fast that they need a bridge to cross it. Lance can already hear the water, and given how one of Keith’s ears is rotating in every direction, and the other is fixed on the rushing water, so can he. Every now and then, the ears switch duties, keeping an eye out for the many predators that call Daibazaal home.

It's the cutest thing Lance has ever seen.

Keith halts his bull elk by the river, leads him forward to drink. Lance follows his lead. Rubbing Bruna’s furry neck as she drinks at the river’s edge. They’ve been riding all morning, and it’s time for a rest, and some lunch.

Wrapped in leaves, Lance finds some bread, dried meat, and a soft, somewhat amorphous white substance. He sniffs the substance, finding it has a bit of a stink to it. It also smells… good? Somehow?

“Beloved?”

“Hm?”

“What the quiznak is this?”

“Oh. Cheese.”

“Cheese? What’s in it?”

“Milk. From the elk.” Keith pulls out his blade, slicing a bit off the lump, spreading it on the bread. “Try some. If your body produces lactase. Otherwise, do not.”

“I do. Some plants on Altea have lactose. Milk does, too?” At Keith’s nod, Lance shrugs, taking a bite of the offered food. It’s good. Salty, a bit gamey, a little nutty? No matter how Lance thinks to describe it, cheese sounds absolutely disgusting, but it’s delicious.

Keith hands him a wrinkled red fruit that looks past its prime. “Here, try this purp fruit. I know it looks gross, and I think they’re disgusting, but Lotor likes them a lot, so you probably will too.”

Lance takes a bite, humming as sweet, syrupy juices explode over his tongue. It’s delightful, probably the sweetest thing he’s tasted since arriving on Daibazaal. The taste sours almost instantly as Lance remembers something he’d said earlier. “Hey, Keith? There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Okay?”

“I may have made a deal with my father that we would return to Altea as mates.”

“You what?” Keith stares at his spouse, clearly displeased. His ear pin back against his head, tail twitching back and forth. “That wasn’t your place to say. At all.”

“I know. I thought it was fine, since it’s not like he’d actually do anything if we didn’t, but I also didn’t say anything, so… I got the feeling I was in the wrong.”

Keith stares at him, fur bristled, murmurs, “Did you mean it?”

“No! I-” The Altean’s shoulder sag. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so,” Keith echoes. “So you assumed that we would, and figured that meant it was fine for you to agree to those terms.”

“...I suppose,” Lance mumbles.

Keith shakes his head, disappointed in his spouse. Not that he’d say that. Nothing damages a person like hearing their loved one is disappointed in them. “Why, Lance? Why would you agree to that? You’ve kept me safe all this time. What changed?”

“He made it a stipulation of our trip to Daibazaal. I should have argued the point, but I just wanted to get you here as fast as possible. I wanted to make sure that happened, with as little trouble or wasted energy as possible, and as little stress to you. Still, I was careless, and thoughtless, and I am so. Sorry, Keith.”

The Galra sighs, staring at his mate. “Well, you told me, and I know you wouldn’t have forced yourself on me, so I’ll forgive you. This time. But even though I’m mated to you, you can still lose my respect, and my trust. Just like I can lose yours.”

“I know, I know.” Lance’s ears droop. “The idea that I could have damaged this…” He shakes his head.

“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Keith murmurs, letting the hurt ease away as he gazes over the river, watching the wind move through the tundra flora. “You’re reasoning saved your ass though, just so you know.”

Lance chuckles, still subdued as he picks at the last of his food. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m upset, but we’re gonna be okay.” Keith takes Lance’s hand, squeezes it tight. “You haven’t ruined this. Your intentions were good, if a bit careless, and we’re going to be fine.”

“Okay…”

“You need to be careful, though. It’s not like you to make hasty promises like that. We can't rule like that, so it can't become a habit.”

“I know,” Lance groans, carding a hand through his white hair. “The Ancients are going to smite me if I can’t get my shit together!”

Keith licks his lips, anxious. He still trusts Lance, and his intentions, no matter how misguided in practice. And the man clearly recognizes that he’s been an idiot. Now, he just wants to move on. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” The Altean rests his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith wraps his tail around Lance’s waist.

“What happened to Romelle?”

“Ah. It’s kind of a long story...”

Alfor leaned against the control board of their small craft, shaking. On either side of him, Romelle and Honerva stood in awe as they gazed at the sight before them. A white hole, light pouring in seemingly endless arcs of light.

“I can’t believe it,” the blonde girl breathed. “We’re finally here.”

“Everything we’re searching for, everything we could ever want, is right here before us,” Alfor murmured. They stared a moment longer, then the king gave a cocky grin he’d later dread seeing on his son. “Let’s go get it!”

The women giggled, giddy on new discovery, as they hurried to their control panels, Alfor at the helm. They were here for everything they could possibly get, and the adventure, but also with a specific goal in mind.

Oriande, among other things, reportedly had its own unique flora and fauna, from which Altea’s organic life had evolved. It was possible, perhaps even probable, that they could find a cure for the thing that killed his wife.

“Wait. What exactly happened to your mother ?”

"A fungus. They found a capsule in her reading room. It... It grew up underneath her scales, and made them die and fall off."

"That's... horrific. I can't believe anyone would do that!"

“Mnh.” Lance sighs. “They cut me out of her as soon as they could so I wouldn’t die with her. They put me in a pod for phoebs, until I could breathe on my own and they were sure I didn’t have the same thing.”

“What an awful way to die,” Keith whispers, thinking about watching his power and lifeforce fall away from his body before his very eyes.

“Romelle’s brother died later from the same thing. We still don’t even know where it came from. We couldn’t figure out how to kill it. It kept spreading even when they were put in suspension.”

“Does Romelle know?”

“I’m not sure. We told her, but…”

“I don’t understand!” Romelle clinged to her research console, staring at the apparition formed from the light of the white hole. “Why won’t it let us pass?!”

Alfor glared at the ghostly obstacle, pale blue scales flaring in time with his frustration. “Try again. If it doesn’t let us pass, we’ll pull back and think of a new strategy.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Honerva did as she was told, wheeling their craft back around, soaring through space, dodging the arcs of light curling from the white hole. The apparition struck again, sending them spiraling into another arc of light. The entire ship shuddered and creaked, threatening to come apart as it was assaulted by pure energy.

Alfor fell to the floor, wrapped his arms around the leg of the console. He heard a crash from behind him and assumed they’d taken some kind of damage. Once the ship settled, however, it became clear that wasn’t the case.

Romelle was on the floor, Honerva leaning over her, dark hair falling from it’s usual bun. “Alfor…”

The girl was bleeding profusely, gray matter visible from a gaping wound in her head.

“Ancients… Pick her up. We have to put her in a pod.”

“Alfor that could kill her!”

“What about her exposed brain? Couldn’t that kill her?”

Honerva grew pale beneath her orange, green-tinted scales. She nodded, scooping the girl into her arms as Alfor rushed to calibrate a pod to preserve her life.

As Honerva prepared to take them home, Alfor turned back to the formidable white hole. He’d been so close. He could practically smell that familiar, unfamiliar atmosphere just beyond these outer limits.

Were it not for the beast that guarded it...

“So what happened to Romelle?”

“My father spent decaphoebs rebuilding her brain. At first, everything seemed fine. That’s when she and Allura got close, and fell in love. But not long after that… She started talking about odd things. Guardians and descendants and glass that is water but also holding water and a blue ember growing cold. Weird stuff. Eventually, that took up more and more of her. I think that’s all that’s left now.

She doesn’t recognize Allura. I don’t think she even knows Allura’s pregnant. I’m not sure she even knows who she is, or that she’s a person. Alfor says that trying to fix her is just doing more damage and causing her pain. As much as I hate it, I think he’s right.”

“I wonder what she means,” he whispers. “I wonder what she’s trying to tell us.”

“I don’t know,” Lance murmurs. “But whatever it is, she’s too far gone to understand it herself, let alone tell us.”

“Right…” Keith frowns, unsure what to make of the story, but he lets it go for now. He’s heard Romelle speak plenty of times before he moved to Altea, Allura having gone out of her way to visit with him and try to ease his anxiety. It always sounded like nonsense.

All the same, he has a nauseous feeling that Romelle’s ramblings aren’t ramblings at all.

Keith stares at Lance’s scales, glittering up and down his arms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves. Blue, shining red in the light. Water and fire.

Suspend the ember in water. Stall its final breath.

The guardian waits for the descendant.

[theaspiringwanderess]

Maligne Pass Trail

(my amazing sister)

The Maligne Pass Trail is a well known, now partially decommissioned trail, located in the world renowned Jasper National Park in Alberta, Canada. It is a highly sought after hike, known for its alpine meadows full of amazing wild flowers and spectacular scenery. In 2018 I had the privilege experiencing this amazing and historic trail not only with my sister, but also an impressive group of female backpackers. In total we spent a full 3 day weekend hiking; one day hiking the Potokan Creek Trail to Avalanche Campground where we setup camp, a second day of day-hiking further up the pass, and day 3 hiking back to civilization. 

A Little History Blurb 

There is a significant story nestled in Canadian history about a woman explorer named Mary Schaffer that makes the Maligne Pass Trail just a little bit more magical. You may have never heard of her but, you could almost say little Miss Mary could be credited in large part for the later development of Jasper National Park, literally a Canadian jewel. In Pennsylvania, 1861, then Mary Townsend Sharples was born into a time when it was considered improper for woman to be on expeditions, much less leading them. In 1889, shortly after being introduced to her then future husband, Dr. Charles Schaffer, the two married and began the first of many trips together through the Canadian Rockies. They collaborated on a labour of love, a joint book of regional wildflowers, aptly named ‘Alpine Flora of the Canadian Rockies’ which would eventually be published in 1907 (a historic version can be found online via open Chung Collection of UBC). After Charles’ passing in 1903, Mary set about to complete the guide book in his honour. In her endeavour to do so, she forged relationships, and friendships, with local Nakota tribesman whom assisted in guiding and helping her through her travels, most notably Sampson Beaver and his family. As a result of these expeditions, Mary is considered equally as famous for the “discovery” of Maligne Lake and for being (likely) the first Caucasian person, albiet female none the less, to chart a path to it, as she is for the completion of the botanical guidebook. Her additional, and possibly most famous publication, Old Indian Trails of the Canadian Rockies, recounts her expeditions between 1907-1908 and is credited not only as leading to the protection of the Maligne Lake area, but as being a key, first hand account of social standards of the era. In 1911, a 49 year old Mary was approached by the Geographical Survey of Canada to survey and document the lake area and in doing so name the lake, mountains, peaks and other geographical features for her guides, family, friends and sponsors. You can read more about these details, and Mary, including some fascinating quotes and other points of interest here.  

About the Trail

Our party of 10 tenacious women parked in a parking lot located on the western side of the bridge over the Poboktan creek. We suited up, grabbed our packs and walked over the bridge to the Poboktan Creek Trail Head and began our adventure. The trail primarily tracks alongside the Poboktan until you reach its confluence with Poligne Creek where you will shift direction to head northwesterly along Poligne until you reach Avalanche Campground. Although only an approximate 11 km to our destination at Avalanche, the elevation climbed from about 1540 meters at the trailhead to approximately 2037 meters at the campground itself; it is important to note that the elevation continues to climb as you continue further down the trail past the campsite. The best advice is pack light, the terrain was very firm, I was thankful I had bought some good quality, hiking grade insoles for my Lowa’s, but my feet still came away pretty sore. It took us most of the day at a steady pace (roughly 6 or so hours, not rushing and accounting for brief breaks and lunch riverside) to reach Avalanche. Both black flies and mosquitos are plentiful residents here, so be sure to pack, and liberally apply, a broad spectrum insect repellent (unless maybe you like bitey friends!). 

The creeks provide clean and plentiful water sources all the way to Avalanche, though water tabs are always recommended. In total we passed few other hikers along the way, most closest to the trailhead, including a young couple with a new baby (brave, admirable... Park lifestyle, who knows!); but for the most part, as we ventured into more remote areas, we were on our own and very secluded, passing only two or three other parties the remainder of the weekend. The trail was fairly clear and easy to see, though some of the bridges were not in good shape. Although we were still able to cross at the expected spots, being a partially decommissioned hiking trail means the Park is no longer doing formal maintenance on the trail; bridges may not be upkept or repaired and fallen debris may not be cleared, so be prepared, if necessary, to find safer routes if required. A special reservation must also be made through Parks Canada to stay at the Avalanche Campsite. Only single party reservations for specific time frames will be allowed at a time with a limited number allowed each year. 

(map courtesy Parks Canada)

Wildlife and Plantlife

Oddly enough we actually did not encounter much wildlife on our trek. If you’re like me, wildlife and photography are a huge part of what I enjoy about hiking, so this was a bit unfortunate. I believe this may have had to do most likely with our party size. However the area is very well known for elk, moose, bears (both black and grizzly), cougars, pikas (at higher elevations), ground squirrels and many other amazing creatures. We also spotted some amazing wildflowers including wild columbine, willow, lilies, and much, much more! Even with the lack of animal appearances, trust me, there is no shortage of stunning scenery and photographic opportunities - beauty is literally everywhere.

However, I think its worth mentioning, even if you don’t come across much in the realm of animals, it doesn’t mean they aren’t still around. It is important to ALWAYS remember and exercise bear safety. Ensure you have the proper equipment, this includes bear bells and other noise makers to alert wildlife to your presence, and keeping readily accessible bear spray. Travelling in groups is always recommended, there is safety in numbers and no cell service for emergencies. Do not leave your garbage on the trail and do not bring food or scented items into your tent, this can attract animals of all kinds, including bears, that you may not appreciate sharing your supplies with, or cuddling next to, at night. One of the ladies in our party shared a tale of the time they left their bike helmets outside to dry overnight, only to awaken the next morning to find raccoons eating the salt soaked foam padding (I couldn’t help but imagine it must not have been a comfy wear after that - lol) ... mice, skunks and racoons are also common campground scavengers and have been known to get into even the best hung bear bags. 

(small animal tracks)

Why Decommission Trails? 

This is something I was curious about when I read up on the Maligne Pass Trail. Why suddenly decommission a popular trail with so much history? In short its because of its popularity and the rare and unique wildlife and fauna put at risk by the people traversing through. I learned that it takes years (6+) for the tundra to recoup from a single misplaced step! Obviously this area is special, and because of this Jasper National Park has decided now to make it accessible only to the most well versed and savvy backpackers in hopes that it will remain protected and safe for years to come. This means removing it from common maps and advertising it significantly less. Please be cognoscente of the purpose behind this as you pass through and remember to keep your impact on the area to a minimum. Pack your garbage back with you, burn fires only in provided pits, do not feed or approach the wildlife, and... beware of where you step ;) . 

Avalanche Campsite 

Avalanche Campsite was beyond amazing... I was so saddened to realize I didn’t actually get a good shot of it, so this magical photo of the path into it will just have to do (sorry!). Perched atop a hillside overlooking a bend in the creek, this amazing spot snuck right up on us. There were about 4-5 tent-ready pads. A couple picnic tables and 2 fire pits. There were 2 bear bag hanging areas further to the left of the site (as you face the tent pads) with stainless steel cord and fixing carabineers. There was also a surprisingly nice toilet facility located above and slightly to the right of the tent pads, well concealed in the forest. One of the articles I read prior to the hike describe the facilities as ‘having the best skylight you’d ever seen...” took us a bit to clue in, but rest assured the view is definitely boundless (lol). There was also a pretty sturdy fallen tree across the river that one of the braver ladies turned into an impromptu yoga study... just be sure if you give it a try that your balance is spot on because the water is brisk!

Beyond Avalanche 

After setting up camp, having a hearty meal and crashing for the night, day two was a welcome adventure into the great beyond of The Pass. Ensure you have ample water setting out on your trek as further along the trail you stray away from the creek supply. You will eventually come across some fresh springs and small pothole lakes as you enter the higher altitude, valley-like area just above the tree line. The path leaving the campsite was a bit tricker to find for the first while and winds through some scrub brush and light coniferous forest. Eventually we made our way past this and the path opens up into a small valley-like plain, congratulations, you have set eyes on something few will now see, The Maligne Pass! With peaks on either side and a well trodden, dirt path which passes by a chain of tiny little lakes (almost more the size of large ponds) the wild flowers are stunning and the view is breathtaking. Here you will be treated to an array of various colours of Indian Paint Brush, willows, Alpine Heather, Alpine Aster, Western Pasqueflower, numerous awe inspiring fungi, and I was told by a biologist in our group, a very rare beauty she was literally mind blown to find, known as Teal Gentian, amongst much, much more. 

 We passed much of the day away climbing the nearby mountain peaks, making snow angels and looking down on the stunning view of Maligne Lake which was visible in the distance. We even enjoyed a brief dip in the tiny lake, brief being the operative word since it was also freezing! Having throughly explored The Pass, as the day came to a close we turned around and headed back to base camp. On our way back we came across a young solo German hiker making his way through the valley and continuing along the pass trail. This was worth a mention as we briefly spoke with him and he inquired about safe places (or rather the lack there of at this point) to make a camp and bear proof your supplies. What trees there were, were spindly and not high enough to adequately hang or keep safe a food bag. If you intend on continuing through the trail do keep this in mind as you will need to have enough time to make adequate arrangements to keep you and your supplies safe for the night.

Noteworthy Points

The majority of the women in my party had camel backs (If you’re not familiar, these are large refillable water bottles able to be stored inside your pack). I used two large Nalgine water bottles which were very sufficient but not as easy to access on the fly. After returning I did some research and invested in a Platypus collapsable hydration pack; it just seems so much easier on the move and these babies weigh literally nothing empty (which is a major objective for me!).

Pack sunscreen and be prepared to reapply it mid-day. Although I’d applied ample sunscreen, I found out the hard way that skin burns faster at higher altitudes due to the thinner atmosphere. I was teased by friends the rest of the summer for my awesome half-tanned legs (courtesy of my gaiters).

If you plan on making a base camp as we did at Avalanche and doing some day hiking, consider packing a lightweight, compact daypack or camelback pack.  

While the days were hot (+25/27 celsius), the nights were much colder than I expected. I have a Marmot Womens’ Trestles mummy bag (which I ADORE! it just wish I’d brought the warmer one!) rated for +5 celsius and a charcoal bag liner, and even with layers on (tee shirt, sweat pants, socks, merino wool sweater and leggings) I was STILL cold (much to my surprise and dismay). The mountains can be deceiving, pack warm and consider the temperatures drops significantly at night.

Final Thoughts

I consider this as one of my most favourite hiking experiences to date and I only wish we could’ve spent a bit more time and extended our stay to explore the full trail. The scenery was spectacular and was only made better by the great company. 

You can find more of my photography from the Maligne Pass Trail and more on my website at KatrynaJones.com 

[cursedmenagerie]

　　　"I will not forgive you if we find trouble in this place.” Ralyanis looks past her companion to the old fort ahead of them, carved stone walls that must have once housed a great army now left in the uncaring hands of nature. She would never have given the structure a second glance in any other situation, but she spied wooden scaffolding among the derelict ruins. A clear sign that someone still resided within. 

　　　Virizion, with his endless optimism, kept at his steady stride towards the fort’s entrance. “I am certain we will. And if we live through it I won’t complain if you remind me every day after. But these are the first intelligent beings we’ve come across since leaving the caves. With any luck, or perhaps by the grace of the gods, they’ll be willing to help us.”

　　　"And how do you intend on asking as much from them?” She stops him with a firm hand to his chest. They stand at the edge of the tree line. If they so chose, the two could disappear in seconds and leave the fort and its eerie promise of contact with other people behind them. “We cannot be certain they speak the same languages as us. They live in the wilds, in a crumbling fortress where they can defend themselves from anything they perceive as a threat. How inviting. Surely they will send us away with nothing to show for our efforts, if not swords at our backs.”

　　　"Then we shall give as good as we get, won’t we dear friend?” The smile he gives her before pressing on mollifies her. It isn’t one born of over confidence; rather, Virizion knows fully well the dangers ahead and recognizes that they came with the decision they made to leave behind their home.

　　　Her heart still beats swiftly as she keeps pace behind him, bow in hand with an arrow nocked as a precaution. When they come within twenty feet of the fort’s entrance a harsh voice calls out above them. The words fall on non-fluent ears, but the meaning rings like a clear day and the two halt. On the archway above the gates a man in tarnished armor surveys them, making a motion for another at his side to leave him. Virizion hazards a step forward and the man calls out again, drawing a sword from its sheath.

　　　Virizion raises empty hands, dipping his head in a display of submission. He clears his throat, brows drawn as he considers his course of action. When he speaks Ralyanis recognizes the slight distinction between their own and the ancient language of the Ayleids. “We are peaceful travelers. We mean no harm. We seek shelter and food, if it can be spared.”

　　　The lack of a response makes it obvious that the man doesn’t understand them. From the gate a pair of his companions emerge with weapons drawn to approach them. The leader speaks briefly with another in simple robes in the same throaty language. The thought dawns on her that these are likely Nords, descendants of those who had driven her people away. They hardly impress, caked in dirt and wearing flimsy leathers about them. One of the men reaches for Ralyanis’ bow and she flinches back.

　　　"Keep away from me.” Too late she recognizes that the venom in her voice does little to help their situation. A woman with her bow drawn wearing full armor doesn’t suit the nonviolent message they’re trying to get across. Virizion gives her a pointed stare while stepping between her and the men.

 　　　"We are peaceful,” He reiterates, this time in a broken attempt at ancient Nordic. “We need food. We will leave if-”

　　　One man, with graying chin hairs that fall to his collarbone, cuts him off with a huff. His tone seems less of anger and more of annoyance, at least. What little relief she feels at this sinks when the leader calls out again, and his men move behind them to usher them forward with the points of their swords. With few choices left the two elves comply. They’re lead past the fort’s gates where the robed man awaits them among a small handful of others. In each of his hands lays a set of wrought iron manacles. 

　　　Ralyanis seeks Virizion’s eyes and an understanding passes between them. She makes to put away her bow in feigned obedience, and in the same instant that Virizion weaves an arcane conduit into existence Ralyanis strikes behind her with the flashing edge of a silver dagger from her belt. Crimson streaks along her face as the man she struck grasps his neck, but she moves fluidly to lay waste to his companion while Virizion conjures an ice wraith into existence, setting its serpentine form of frost and fury upon the Nords within the fort. With a short sword in hand the remaining man behind them holds his own against her meager dagger, though only for a few brief seconds before her partner grapples his sword arm, leaving him open to a clean strike. 

　　　Shouts of terror and fury ring out as the two flee towards the trees, but by the time their pursuers finish off the wraith and can make chase the elves are gone. 

　　　Night falls before the two take shelter under a rocky outcropping. Neither dares to light a fire for fear of being spotted by the men they fled from, and they sup on what remains of the dried elk they brought from the safety of their home rather than venture out and hunt. No words are shared, except to exchange watch while they gather an hour of rest each. Exhausted as they are, Virizion insisted that they put as much distance as they could between them and the humans that tried to take them captive.

　　　After their two hours of rest they begin their trek again, though at a slower pace in the dark and unfamiliar woods. The miles blur together, with little of note except a lone wolf that pays its fresh kill more mind than it does them.

　　　By the time the sun begins to rise once more they happen upon a site of great destruction. Where the fort they previously encountered had deteriorated over many years, the stone walls and charred buildings before them were destroyed recently. When Ralyanis makes to push aside a fallen log it disintegrates under her touch, and burnt bodies lie rotting in the streets.

　　　"What could have caused this?” Virizion utters the words as a whisper, as though afraid to disturb the scene of a thorough slaughtering. 

　　　They make their way towards the far side of the settlement where a solid stone structure sits. Unlike the rest of the town it seems to have suffered minimal damage in the attack given its sturdy nature, but it too has no shortage of corpses surrounding it. A wooden door leading inside sits off its hinge, so they slip inside to salvage what they can and hopefully gain insight into what happened. Most of what they make out to be food stores has been picked clean, and what remains has rotten or been chewed through by vermin. They resign themselves to hunting once they leave the area. Amidst the barren furnishings Ralyanis finds a leather bound book, written in a script she can barely discern as having roots in Ayleidoon and Nordic. A couple of words on the book’s first page can be translated, but the meaning of its passages eludes her. Despite this, the discovery lifts her spirits. With this to study she might make progress in understanding the language spoken by the people of the area. 

　　　When the two regroup at the building’s entrance they catch the sound of scuffling feet in the distance which sets them immediately on edge. Ralyanis half expects Virizion to make another attempt at contact, but the memory of nearly becoming captives must still be fresh in his mind for he leads them swiftly towards the gate farthest from the source of the sound to leave the smoldering fortress behind. 

　　　From here the mountains slope away, allowing a broad view of the forest ahead of them and a glimmering lake beyond it. They decide on the lake as their next destination, knowing that any source of water will attract creatures to it. Half a day’s travel changes the landscape around them, with white-capped hills giving way to tall fir trees and dusty trails rather than tracks in the snow. By the time they break away to hunt for the night’s meal the only white that remains in view are each other and the distant glimpses of snowy mountain tops they make out through the trees. 

　　　It isn’t until they make camp near a shrine of intricately carved stones that Virizion breaks the silence that persisted between them since leaving the Nordic fort. “I’m sorry for my error in judgement.”

　　　Ralyanis is slow in reacting to him, setting aside the book she’d found to face her friend. His focus is elsewhere, the orange flicker of their campfire in his eyes as he stares out across the nearby lake. “You did as you thought best. And you kept them from overrunning us. It was naive and foolish, but we persevered.”

　　　"That it was.” He shakes his head, a grim smile tucked into his collar. “When I thought about journeying to the outside world I envisioned myself as a perfect diplomat. I didn’t even conceive that there might still be so much hatred among the humans.”

　　　"Neither of us could have known what we would face.” Ralyanis stands to cross the pebbled shore until the water lapped at her ankles. “Plans will go astray, and we’ll make mistakes. That is why you brought me along, is it not?” She turns to look at him over her shoulder, relieved to see a brighter shine in his smile. “Look at this place, Viri. The entirety of Syrabane’s temple could fit on the surface of this lake. And we’ve only just begun our journey.”

　　　The crunch of shifting stones signals her friend moving to her side. “I suppose if all goes terribly we could make a home here. Become simple fishermen.”

　　　She chuckles at the thought of either of them settling into a simple life by the water. It didn’t sound much better than the fate their people had resigned themselves to in the mountainous sanctuary. But at least here they would be free. There would be none of their deformed brethren encroaching on their territory, and there would be the promise of interaction with the other races of the world. The view wasn’t half bad, either.

　　　"That can come at a later day. We shouldn’t give up before we have begun after all. Get some rest, friend. I’ll take first watch.” Ralyanis pats his arm before moving to retrieve her bow and quiver. The last of the sun’s warm hues bled from the sky as she settled in at the edge of their camp, daring any creature to disturb the peace they deserved.

[heywhatsupfolks]

A Turn for the Worse - A flash-fiction piece by Me!

Pure, powdery Rocky Mountain snow rolled beneath my skis as I shot down Snowmass, ice on my goggles and Gloria Gaynor blasting through my headphones. “I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself. I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high!”

Jake and I were the last skiers of the day. The lift operators barely let us take one more run before shutting down.

Getting off at Elk Camp, we were too late for The Cirque, and drifted to the right towards Sandy Park. From there, we’d ski around to East Camp, and that would get us right back home! However, we never got that far.

Racing down Sandy Park with the Maroon Bells in the distance, 3,000 feet higher than our 11,000 foot peak, Jake took the lead.

“Yo! Sam! Over here!” Jake shouted over the whistling of the wind and the grinding of metal on snow. He made a sharp right turn, speeding up as he crossed over to Gunner’s View to take a detour, avoiding the catwalk on Turkey Trot, and maintaining enough speed to get us home.

But when I turned the corner, Jake vanished. Did he ski further across the mountain to Bear Bottom? Right as I stopped to regain my thoughts, a snowball hit me right between my helmet and goggles, knocking me down.

Of course, I thought. He must’ve used the extra momentum from his turn to go uphill, and hid in an old cabin’s foundations on the trail, which Gunner’s View was named after. I looked up and wiped the snow from my goggles, but the slush still distorted my vision.

That’s when I blacked out. And I swear, that’s all I remember.

[zaren-alcarius]

Coauthored with @thefreelanceangel

Large flakes of snow drifted lazily through the sky. Every now and again, the sun peaked through the clouds, illuminating the flurry in a shimmering dance as it twisted through the air. The harsh wind from the sound was unable to penetrate the canyons veining through Frostgorge, affording some measure of protection to those who would traverse the area. The natural barrier even allowed the formation of a small valley at the southern most tip of the territory. The valley was as far south as Zaren was willing to go. There was little left for him beyond the small patch of green and there was plenty of local game. At first, he was resistant to the idea of leaving his quarters. There was little point. He could starve to death and that would be fine. Somehow, Thomas had managed to convince him to go for a hunt.

…And there, out in the wilderness, he actually managed to find some semblance of peace for the first time since awakening. While everything and everyone around him had changed, nature had remained the same. Wind howled in the distance behind him and water lapped the rocks long the shore in the valley before him. The scent of earth drifted into his nose, familiar and welcoming. It made him wonder about a different life -one where he hadn’t become entangled with the Order. It was a fleeting. This was his reality. There was little point in flirting with what ifs.

From Zaren’s spot on the hill nearly 700 yards away, he lifted a pair of binoculars to his mismatched gaze and caught sight of an elk bowing her head to take a drink from the water. While he had regained the endurance to make the hike, he had not yet regained full strength in his left arm, so a bow was out of the question. In order to keep the hunt interesting, he opted for long range with his rifle rather than close range and stealth with his bow. He was always fond of a challenge and preferred to maintain sportsmanship when hunting.

Slowly, he lifted the scope to his eye, resting the gun on his arm which was propped over his knee for stability. It didn’t matter how many times he had hunted or what the prey, there was always that spike of adrenaline that pumped through his veins. Experience, however, taught him self control, and his aim remained steady. When the elk turned to present the perfect broad side target, the hunter slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger, rupturing the silence with an echoing boom.

It nearly sent him over the log he had been standing on, that sudden report of a rifle echoing through the valley. Slate Carter was experienced enough to know not to shout the profanities that were on the tip of his tongue when the elk he’d had in his sights suddenly fell over, blood gouting from a wound on her side. But the profanities were still there, albeit unspoken. He snatched up the broad-brimmed hat that had been tossed aside to prevent any block of his field of vision and jammed it in place before vaulting over the log and easing forward.

Although he hadn’t expected to encounter anyone this far north–especially not in one of the hidden pockets protected from the eternal winds–Slate wasn’t reckless. A rifle had gone off; someone was clearly in the area. The elk was his focus for the moment; the shot had been good, very clean, but the animal was still weakly struggling. When he stepped out of the tree line, Slate was careful to have his bow across his back, the arrow back in his quiver. Holding his gloved hands up, he waited for a short count. When no one appeared by the time he’d counted to fifteen, the hunter crossed the short stretch of rocky ground to the elk. His knife was never out of reach and it came easily to hand.

Seeing that the shot had been clean, Zaren shifted to his feet, albeit with some doing. Internally, he cursed his weakened left side. As he slung his rifle over his shoulder, he caught sight of a figure approaching his kill. Hesitation seized his legs as he debated just letting the other man take the game. He hadn’t anticipated being social. With narrowed, mismatched eyes, he watched Slate step back from the elk. Zaren dug into his coat pocket and slipped his eye patch over his unnaturally green eye - brown would be far less memorable. Try as he may, he was not fully able to hide the fact that he favored his left leg as he made his way down from the hill and to the kill.

Straddling the elk, Slate caught her muzzle and lifted her head, cutting the animal’s throat in a single, practiced slice. It’d have to be bled out before any butchering began regardless, and this put her out of her misery quickly. Wiping the knife off with a handful of moss, Slate looked across the landscape and sheathed the knife. Hands up once more, he backed away from the elk–wasn’t his kill, after all, and it was possible someone desperately needed that meat–and found a large boulder close enough to keep the carcass fairly safe. There were, after all, wolves and the like in the area and an easy meal would be attractive for them. He had time. He could wait for the other hunter and then offer perhaps help skinning and butchering in exchange for a slab of meat to go along with the pine nuts he’d collected while hiking.

As Zaren approached the kill, he brushed his long fur-lined coat to the side to unsheathe the hunting knife from its place on his right thigh. A well tended to revolver on his hip gleamed in the sunlight briefly before disappearing into the recesses of his coat as it fell back into place. Wordlessly, he knelt before his kill and tugged his fingerless gloves off. The scarring lacing his left hand was quickly obscured by blood as he began to field dress the elk.

It was practiced, the entirely non-threatening appearance Slate made as he sat on the boulder, hands resting lightly on his knees. He’d been around enough people to know that large men dressed in leather with masks covering the lower half of the face were usually perceived to be “an issue.” He almost laughed at the unspoken warning made by the visible knife, the revolver on the man’s hip. It was something he’d done himself a time or two–a statement of ‘I’m not going to attack, but I’ll damn well be ready if you do.’ Slate didn’t comment for a long moment, letting the other man set about his work. He knew the importance of dressing a carcass before any rot set in. He did, however, get to his feet and tromp into the treeline without a word. When he returned, the long sapling he held had been stripped of branches. Slate tested it for strength between his hands before walking close enough to be heard without… intruding.

“Didn’t know anybody else was huntin’ up here,” he said. The boiled leather mask obscured the lower half of his face and muffled his voice a bit, but the hazel eyes surrounded by faintly wrinkled, tanned skin were friendly, if cautious. “Sorry to get in th’ middle of yer kill, fella. Had my eye on her too. Just 'bout shocked a year off my life when she keeled over.” He held up the sapling before laying it down within Zaren’s reach. “Figured I owed ya a way to carry her back to your camp considerin’ ya probably weren’t expectin’ nobody up here either.”

Zaren didn’t respond right away, his focus on field dressing the elk. Unlike Slate, he did not have a mask and hoped he wouldn’t regret that decision. He prayed the thick beard adorning his face would be enough to throw off any who may potentially recognize him. Long, oily locks spilled forth from his hood further obscuring his appearance and giving him a somewhat unkempt look. His gear, on the other hand, was clearly well taken care of. When Zaren finally did speak, his voice was low and his words carried a drawl. “Don’t worry 'bout it. Ain’t no way you could have known.” He paused to yank the intestines out and set them aside in a pile. “Was 'bout 700 yards out.”

The gesture was automatic: Slate stripped his gloves and shoved up his coat sleeves before walking over and retrieving the wet viscera. Without commenting, he strolled to the edge of the stream and began rinsing them out. No use letting usable bits of the carcass go to waste; intestines made good storage, especially for tallow. With his back to Zaren–well aware he was leaving himself plainly vulnerable in that position–Slate shoved his hat back a bit and continued rinsing the blood and fluids from the viscera, using his knife to cut blood vessels and ligaments to separate out the loops. “Didn’t think to look up that high, but sounds 'bout right. I woulda heard somebody huntin’ up close to where I was.”

The mometary vulnerability was noted, but Zaren maintained focus on field dressing the elk. There was only a finite amount of time to complete the task. Soon enough, another, larger predator would catch the scent of death, or, perhaps worse, the sun would dip below the canyons, casting a darkness that would make it impossible to complete the task.

A section at a time, Slate washed the intestines, untroubled by the bloody task. Bundling them up in a neat coil, he set them aside, rinsed the blood from his hands and straightened, patting his hands mostly dry on the inside of his coat. He stepped back to the elk, set the cleaned viscera down and crouched on a nearby rock. Unspooling a length of rope from his haversack, Slate eyed the elk, looked at the sapling and began measuring out what would be needed to tie the legs to the stick. “Look like ya been out as long as I have.” He didn’t figure the man would be the sort to startle easily and his mask was getting bothersome. Slate tugged it off, revealing a week’s worth of black stubble and two twisting scars stretching towards his ears, originating at the corners of his mouth. Mask shoved into his coat, he breathed in, taking even that moment to enjoy the crisp mountain (albeit with care for his damaged lung) before he measured a length of rope against his forearm. “Best part 'bout Tyria as far as I’m concerned. Iffen ya know how to handle yourself, there isn’t much reason to head in to any cities or the like.”

Zaren only paused briefly to wipe the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his blood covered hand, replacing the perspiration with crimson. He appeared unconcerned with this trade. A low grunt was the hunter’s only reply to Slate’s observation.

Once he was finished with field dressing the kill, Zaren stood up and brought the remaining organs (heart, liver, and the like) to the stream to quickly wash them off and place them in a waterproof bag and then into the pack that crossed over the shoulder opposite of his rifle. All the while, Zaren kept his head down and avoided making eye contact. ”Don’t much like the city,” he agreed, finally. He was a man of few words, but seemed pleasant enough. He was at least responding.

“Yeah. Me either,” was Slate’s response to the brief statement, and he didn’t feel the need to make further conversation on that point.

Rather than complicate the task by trying to help, Slate gave the sapling another quick bend to ensure it’d take the weight of the elk and then simply stood watch. He knew well enough that there were other predators in the area that would find a fresh kill to be an attractive prospect. When Zaren moved away from the elk, he crouched over it, setting the pole between the animal’s hooves and began lashing the legs to the pole. Slate gave no appearance of being bothered by the lack of eye contact; if the man wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, he wasn’t going to push it. And really, he couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to see his facial scars more often than needed.

Adjusting his hat, Slate tugged his scarf up to provide a bit more protection from the icy air that snaked down along the mountains and gestured to the elk. “Need a hand with it? I ain’t got nothin’ in particular to do, so wouldn’t mind helpin’ ya haul it up if ya wouldn’t mind partin’ with a bit of the haunch.”

Zaren made his way back to the elk. Try as he may to hide it, one might pick up on the fact that he was favoring his left leg. He considered the offer for a moment, his red rimmed, dark eye flicking between the carcass and Slate. If he noticed the other man’s scarring, he gave no indication. He had his own scars that plagued nearly half of his body. There was little room to judge.

“Reckon so,” he finally replied. There was more than enough meat and he was unlikely to use it all. There was a small safe house he’d used before in the area. It wasn’t much, but it was the only place he could bring an outsider. There was no returning to the lodge in the foothills.

With a nod, Slate adjusted his gear–haversack, bedroll strapped to the top, bow, quiver, the greatsword slung beneath everything else–and leaned down to pick up one end of the pole. “Name’s Slate,” he said, offering the courtesy of an introduction without any formality to it. “Got some pine nuts and a little jug of apricot somethin’ or another, forget what it was.” He didn’t favor a leg, but rolled his left shoulder and was careful not to breathe too sharply when he lifted his end of the pole, taking the back end so most of the weight would be on him while climbing. “Think it’s preserves of some sort. Norn lass I ran into few days back said her legend was she was gonna make the best preserves in Tyria.” He chuckled, making sure the pole sat comfortably on his right shoulder. “Told her I’d spread the word iffen they’re as good as she said.”

“Roy,” Zaren (or rather - Roy) responded simply as he picked up his gloves from the ground and slipped them back on. He didn’t allow much time for the scarring on his left hand to remain visible.

Slate acknowledged the introduction with a nod of his head, seeing no reason to push it any further than that.

After doing a quick gear check to ensure he had all of his equipment, Roy approached the elk. With help from his right, he managed to lift the other side of the pole to his left shoulder. He used his right hand to provide additional support as they began to drag the carcass.

There was no complaint from Roy, who would have preferred his other side. There was a time he would have started a conversation -share an anecdote about the best Norn preserves, or his own scavenging. But there was little point now. He did not intend to see the man again. Why bother filling the time with pleasantries when he was perfectly satisfied by not speaking?

With a hand up to steady the pole balanced on his shoulder, Slate let Roy set the pace. After all, he didn’t know where the man intended to camp long enough to properly butcher the elk.

It wasn’t swift going–either man likely could’ve made it further on their own with only as much meat as could be carried–but Slate didn’t slack off the pace, even when his breath whistled slightly after making it up an incline. One hand pressed against the left side of his chest, he coughed once, gulped in air and shook his head once with a rough chuckle.

“Ain’t nothin’ like a hike and the cold to remind ya 'bout all the parts of ya that don’t work the way they used to,” Slate said with a wry smile, his gaze on the treeline, the shape of the rocks above them and the ground underfoot.

The wheezing breath didn’t escape Roy’s notice. When punctuated by a cough, he finally cast a single eyed glance over. By that point, his limp was becoming more pronounced. His muscles were tight and there was a grinding pain in his knee. ”Reckon we could take a break,” he suggested. “Getting dark soon, anyway,” he added as he scanned the horizon. Internally, he was relieved by the other man’s coughing. He didn’t want any breaks to be on his own accord and wasn’t willing to admit his own struggles. Apparently some things never change.

[paperficwriter]

All That Glitters (BNHA, Fantasy AU, Kiribaku)

I’m sure you’ve noticed that shapeshifting is kind of in my wheelhouse, right? How could I resist?

Dragonboy!Kirishima was very much inspired by @xkumah‘s beautiful, adorable pic of Bakugou getting sweet hugs from scaly boi. Dragon form Kiri was heavily inspired by...well, this guy.

Enjoy! Cut is for length, not for content.

---

“Get back here, you piece of shit!”

Bakugou’s feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the woods after the red creature. Bits of grass and dirt stuck to his skin, only making him angrier. Angry at himself for stopping to wash off in the stream, angry at the elk that had bled so much that he had had to stop to wash off in the stream, but especially angry now at whatever the hell had decided to take off with his bone and stone necklace his mother had just given him.

Not that he cared that much about the thing, but she would murder him if he came home without it.

“It’s stupid and gaudy,” he remarked when she put it around his neck. There were several layers to it, with red rocks from the mountains, shiny ocean glass, and what seemed to be bear claws. Okay, that was something he liked. “And heavy.”

She smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be a jerk. You’re old enough to know that you need to start carrying it. What are you going to give your mate when you find them, huh? That raggedy wolf pelt?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Or maybe one of those boots that smell like horse shit?”

“I get it, woman! Gods, your endless screeching is annoying.”

That had led to a night spent with the hounds. Wouldn’t be the first or the last, though. But if he had gone through all that trouble to now have it stolen by a mangy animal of some sort…

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He had just managed to get his pants back on, but his feet were bare, catching little cuts from the brush and bramble as he tore through it. He hadn’t even managed to get a good look at whatever it was, but he knew a few things: it was quick, had a long tail, and moved on four legs that left taloned marks in the ground beneath its feet. And its skin - not fur, that he knew from how the sun shone down on it as it slipped through the thicket - was a rich crimson. Maybe he could make a leather from it…

When the woods opened to a clearing, Bakugou figured this could be his best opportunity, because there was only a short distance before a cliff that dropped a quarter of a mile. He grinned savagely. “Okay,” he said, pulling his knife from his belt, pausing only when the animal turned, and he realized what he was dealing with.

It was the smallest dragon he had ever seen, with short legs and a stocky, muscular body. It blinked at him with wide eyes that shone like garnets, and it flicked at the treasure hanging from its mouth with a small pink tongue. “Drop it,” he ordered, because now that he has seen what it was, he knew he couldn’t just kill it like any other beast. It was a commonly accepted tradition that hurting a dragon - let alone killing it - could bring great misfortune, since they were considered wise and ancient creatures of the earth.  

But then the so-called “sacred” being tossed its head back and swallowed Bakugou’s necklace like a damn bird with a worm, and Bakugou lost any sense of cautionary tales.

“That’s it!” Taking off at a sprint, he dove at the dragon, tackling it. He tried to bring his knife down at his flank, and the shock ran all the way up his arm. It was like stabbing a boulder, a hissing, kicking boulder. Bakugou jumped back to his feet, but as he did, he failed to take into account the massive tail until it had struck him in the middle, knocking the air out of him and blowing him back several feet.

But instead of hitting the ground, he bounced. Right over the edge of the cliff.

The wind whipped around him as he fell, head over heels, his limbs flailing, no telling which way was up or down. He reached out for the rocky face as it blurred at his side, but it only succeeded in cutting his arm. Too fast. Way too fast.

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Yet, it was.

And then, something else entirely was happening. A whistle by his ear, and then he hit a surface other than the ground, and for a second it seemed like the inside of his body was still being pulled by gravity. He chanced opening his eyes slightly, and all he could see was red. And then he heard and felt the thrumming of wings, of muscles moving beneath him, and the reality made itself known: he wasn’t dead. He was flying. On a dragon. On the dragon.

It was only a few more seconds until they landed, and when he put his feet on the ground, his knees buckled. They had arrived at the base of the cliff, and when he looked up at it, the edge where he had started seemed too far away to see clearly.

That had been too close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, gulping down a few more breaths. When he glanced up, the dragon crouched on the grass in front of him, staring at him cautiously, as if it was expecting him to attack again. Perhaps he had been too shocked to let go, but Bakugou realized he still had the knife in his hand.

Slowly, he set it on the ground between them.

And damn if the dragon didn’t take that too.

“The hell?!” Bakugou snapped, but instead of running away again, the creature trotted past him and wriggled into a bush by a rock. Bakugou followed him, finding a small hole that dropped into a cave beneath, cool and silent but for the trickle of water that had made its way from a spring deeper in the plateau and collected in a pool.

The hoard - if it could be called that - was in a bed-sized pile in the center. But instead of gold and jewels, there were fairly common items: many river stones, a broken saucer, a few coins that were more pocket change than treasure, a pot lid, a mirror, a polished chain. Perhaps the most unique item was a sword, which the dragon nosed at to make room for Bakugou’s knife, and then…

“Fucking gross!” Bakugou protested as the dragon arched its back and threw up the necklace like a cat expelling a hairball. It was covered in a film of saliva, but it seemed satisfied as it placed it around a garden statue. The massive beast moved a few more of the items with its tail before it sat on top of the collection of flotsam and puffed its chest out. “I don’t know what the hell you’re so damn happy about. This is the shittiest hoard I’ve ever seen.” The dragon made a noise. “Did you just growl at me?”

It got up and walked back toward him, and Bakugou bent his knees, ready if it tried to snap at him, but it didn’t. However, it did stand up on two of its leg, the shape of it morphing and changing, and then...it wasn’t a dragon anymore. Not exactly, anyway.

“I said it’s not shitty!” The young man who now pouted in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, still wouldn’t exactly be what Bakugou would call “human.” His tanned skin was still scattered with red scales in places, especially down his arms, and the frill around his head had become vibrant hair, pointed ears and two sizable horns. And with his still-present tail and wings, Bakugou couldn’t help wondering what the point of this form would be, because there was no way he could pass for being a normal person. “I’m still working on it.”

“Do you even have any gold?”

“Yes!” He turned back to the pile and moved things around, producing several shiny rocks flecked with yellow. “Look!”

Bakugou smirked. “That’s pyrite, you idiot.” He was surprised how immediately he regretted saying it, because his face fell, and Bakugou wondered if today would mark another first: seeing a dragon cry. He pointed at the sword. “That’s pretty cool, though, I guess. And there could be gold in the pommel. If you cleaned it up.”

“Really?!” Immediately, the sad expression switched to one of absolute glee. “I thought so too! But I don’t want to damage it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Did you steal all of this?”

“Steal?” A small laugh and a tilt of his head. “I found them, if that’s what you mean.”

“Uh. You stole my necklace. And my knife.”

“You gave me your knife,” he pointed out. “And I found the necklace.” Bakugou glared at the very pointed way that he didn’t say it was his necklace.

“And the fact that I was running after you when you took it wasn’t any indication that I still wanted it?”

“I thought we were playing!” The man grinned, showing off sharp, pointed teeth.

“I tried to stab you!”

“I knew you couldn’t get through my hide.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to knock you over the cliff though. I’m sorry. I got a little too excited, and you got hurt.”

Bakugou noticed for the first time that blood was still dripping from the cut on his forearm. When he looked up again, he startled a bit, because the dragon boy had stepped up close to him, peering at it. His eyes had stayed the same...or it felt like it, at least. Before he could stop him, he grabbed Bakugou’s hand and licked the wound.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Bakugou shoved his face, but he held on, swiping it again with his slightly pointed tongue. “Get off!”

Finally, he did, and when Bakugou went to wipe his arm against his pants, he was surprised to find that the wound had closed entirely. Once the blood was rubbed away, it was like the skin had never been broken. The man grinned at him again. “The elders always say not to eat humans because they taste bad. But you taste pretty good!”

Bakugou’s face went red, and he shouldered past the strange creature and reached down to retrieve his necklace. “You might have thought you found this, but it’s mine, so I’m taking it back.”

“All of it?” There was that pitiful expression again, and he gestured with a black, pointed nail at one of the sticky threads.

“Yes, all of it!” He sighed at how disappointed he looked, and finally he removed the piece with the knotted sea glass, placing it back in the pile. It wasn’t like a dragon understood the implications, and his mother probably wouldn’t ask about it. He hoped. He considered taking the knife too, but that was more easily replaced, and he did kind of owe it to him for not letting him become a smear on the forest floor. “Fine. Here. Happy?”

He was. “Thanks!”

“Quit smiling like that.”

“Like what?” It only brightened, and then he was once more in Bakugou’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him, his tail snaking around his ankles. An odor like sulphur and burning leaves tickled Bakugou’s nose, and he stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Was he…hugging him? “I’ve seen humans do this when they like one another. Am I doing it right?”

“It’s...okay.” Bakugou paused. “It’s not usually this long, though.”

“Oh.” He let go. “I’m Kirishima. What’s your name?”

Could he tell a magical creature his name? Wasn’t there some rule when it came to that, about them being able to bind someone if they knew their true name? Maybe just his family name would be sufficient. “Bakugou.”

“You’re going to come back, right, Bakugou?”

“How the hell could I do that? Don’t know if you noticed, but I nearly died getting here. I can’t exactly climb down easily.” Come to think of it, he didn’t know how exactly he was going to get back to the village now either...

Kirishima’s face scrunched up as he thought, then he clapped his hands together. “We can meet at that stream! Would that work?” Realization dawned on his face. “Do you want me to fly you back there?”

Fly him…? “No. I can make my own way.” He climbed back out of the hole by the bush, staring up into the sky, which glowed pink and orange as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. Kirishima followed close behind him.

“Are you sure? It’s a half day’s hike up the side of the cliff, and then you have to climb up, and it’s really sheer…it would be quicker and easier! I don’t mind!”

Bakugou frowned at his sincerity, still wary. But to be frank, the thought of trying to make his way back up the incline did not seem appealing, especially since it was late in the afternoon now. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Bakugou was going to have to learn quicker that he needed to be more direct with Kirishima, because no sooner had he said it than he found himself lifted into his arms and they were airborne. And Bakugou would never say that he yelped, but he certainly was surprised, and he wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck as he watched the ground disappear. “It’s okay!” Kirishima called over the wind. “I won’t let you fall! I promise!”

Every bone in his body screamed that he shouldn’t believe him. But he did.

And maybe that was why when he was finally on solid ground again he was willing to agree to see him again. “Tomorrow, then!”

Even if he was annoyingly eager. “Tomorrow.”

[horseranch178]

Bozeman Ranches For Sale

They claim that the state of Montana is the last fantastic frontier, yet Montana is more than that, it is a fantastic place that is loaded with a lot to do yet supplies lots of areas that are off the beaten path. Montana not only has many benefits to those that visit on an annual basis, but it also has lots of benefits to those who live there on a long-term basis.

Here are several of the huge benefits that living in Montana brings:

• No Sales Tax obligation: That's right; spend away if you reside in Montana because the sales tax there is a tremendous 0%. That implies more money in your pocket and much less that you have to provide to old Uncle Sam. Don't feel negative though, he constantly seems to get his reasonable share.

• Summer Season Activities: Montana is house to part of the Rocky Mountains and also in the summer season time there is no far better place to be. Mountain backpacking, cycling, and also angling are all part of what the Rockies have to offer its homeowners each as well as every year. Component of Yellowstone National forest is likewise in Montana as well as you can take pleasure in warm springs and more fishing when you determine to travel there.

• Angling: In instance you missed it from the last couple of factors, Montana is known worldwide for its terrific angling. Fly angling is particularly popular in the great state and lots of fishermens that just can't get enough of the terrific catches that Montana has to supply finish up locating themselves as long-term locals prior to too long.

• Winter Triggers: When it obtains cold out and the white powder starts to drop, the state of Montana transforms right into one of the very best put on Planet to be for skiing. The state boasts several ski resorts and also some globe course slopes making the state the ideal domestic sanctuary for the utmost ski fanatic.

• Obtain Away from the Crowd: Among the biggest features of residing in Montana is the fact that you can be close to all the action, yet still not be in the thick of it at all times. That is because Montana still has several smaller towns and also cities that have actually stayed little in populace for many years. However, even if they are little, doesn't indicate that they are out in the boon-docks either. Many of Montana's smaller communities lie simply miles beyond the bigger and extra heavily booming areas such as Billings. This supplies the perfect situation for somebody that wants to stay in personal, however still be close sufficient to enter the battle royal of things when they intend to.

Montana may be the last terrific frontier, yet if you enjoy the outdoors as well as take pleasure in relaxing living with action simply around the bend, after that this state might be for you. While a go to there will give you a taste of what the state has to provide, only living there Montana is strained with impressive areas to witness the charm of nature and it's wildlife. With a lot of hills, rivers, lakes and forests that seem to have no end, it's not shocking that Montana has a better range of wildlife compared to any kind of other state in the reduced 48. The whole state is an all-natural pet maintain. As prominent as it is for individuals who are drawn to nature to want to look for these amazing areas, there actually isn't much information out there to aid you find the very best areas to check out. The average person would certainly suggest to see the zoo if you would certainly like to see large quantities of varied varieties in one area.

If you are checking out or stay in Montana, I would suggest either visiting Glacier National forest or Yellowstone National Forest. I would additionally recommend not to neglect your camera! An error I have commonly made and also always was Additional hints sorry for! In Glacier you will see mainly elk, moose, deer, hill goats, bighorn lamb and grizzly or also black bears. Yellowstone is unbelievably varied, in the truth that there is means as well many pets to list. The more frequently seen are elk, grizzly bears, bison, wolves and also even trumpeter swans! An additional terrific means to witness Montana's wild animals is to go to one of 51 wild animals sanctuaries! Seeing a refuge you have the possibility to go to animals in their natural surroundings, unlike visiting a zoo which often can be gloomy. Sanctuaries usually offer numerous possibilities for stunning photography, instructional possibilities or excursions (wonderful for kids!), outdoor activities as well as in some cases even camping!

An additional possibility you can benefit from is visiting a wild animals facility. There are a few of these in Montana which look after pets which can no more go back to the wild. Comparable to the concept of a zoo, nonetheless you will certainly find that the animals have concerning triple the area and also are not really "constrained". There is a Wolf Refuge about 16 miles from Missoula called "The Wolfkeep". They have an overall of 10 wolves in a 10 acre enclosure, providing them maximum area to live openly. These naturally are only a few of the many rewarding wildlife possibilities, a short listing can easily transform right into a story. Montana has plenty of interesting places to go to as well as brand-new experiences to venture, whether it is outdoors in the wild or inside your home with family as well as buddies! will show you truth capacity and also all the benefits that Montana provides its citizens on a daily basis.

[horseranches960]

Ranches Near Bozeman

They claim that the state of Montana is the last excellent frontier, but Montana is a lot more than that, it is a fantastic area that is loaded with a lot to do yet uses several areas that are off the ruined path. Montana not just has lots of advantages to those that check out on an annual basis, yet it also has several advantages to those that live there on a permanent basis.

Right here are several of the huge advantages that living in Montana brings:

• No Sales Tax obligation: That's right; spend away if you stay in Montana since the sales tax obligation there is a tremendous 0%. That means even more cash in your pocket and much less that you need to provide to old Uncle Sam. Don't feel poor however, he always seems to get his fair share.

• Summer Season Tasks: Montana is home to component of the Rocky Mountains and also in the summertime time there is no better location to be. Mountain angling, biking, and backpacking are all component of what the Mountain ranges need to provide its citizens each and also every year. Part of Yellowstone National forest is also in Montana and you can enjoy warm springs as well as even more angling when you determine to take a trip there.

• Fishing: In instance you missed it from the last number of factors, Montana is known globally for its wonderful angling. Fly angling is especially popular in the great state and also several anglers that just can't get sufficient of the fantastic catches that Montana needs to offer end up locating themselves as long-term locals before as well lengthy.

• Winter months Turns on: When it gets cool out and also the white powder starts to fall, the state of Montana becomes one of the very best places on Earth to be for snowboarding. The state flaunts numerous different ski hotels as well as some globe course inclines making the state the ideal domestic haven for miraculous ski lover.

• Escape the Crowd: One of the biggest things concerning residing in Montana is the fact that you can be near to all the action, yet still not remain in the thick of it in all times. Due to the fact that Montana still has numerous smaller towns and cities that have actually continued to be small in populace over the years, that is. Simply due to the fact that they are tiny, does not mean that they are out in the boon-docks either. A number of Montana's smaller sized communities are situated just miles beyond the larger and also more populous locations such as Invoicings. This offers the excellent scenario for a person that intends to live in exclusive, however still be close sufficient to enter into the battle royal of points when they wish to.

Montana may be the last terrific frontier, however if you enjoy the outdoors and also take pleasure in tranquil living with activity simply around the corner, then this state might be for you. While a visit there will provide you a preference of what the state needs to provide, only living there Montana is overwhelmed with impressive locations to witness the elegance of nature and also it's wild animals. With many hills, rivers, lakes as well as forests that appear to have no end, it's not surprising that Montana has a better variety of wild animals compared to any type of various other state in the lower 48. The entire state is a natural animal protect. As preferred as it is for individuals who are drawn to nature to want to look for these amazing places, there really isn't much information out there to assist you find the most effective places to go to. If you want to see large quantities of varied types in one area, the average individual would certainly advise to see the zoo.

I would certainly suggest either going to Glacier National Park or Yellowstone National Park if you are visiting or live in Montana. I would certainly also recommend not to forget your video camera! A blunder I have often made and constantly was sorry for! In Glacier you will see mainly elk, moose, deer, hill goats, bighorn sheep as well as grizzly or also black bears. Yellowstone is extremely diverse, in the truth that there is method way too many animals to list. The even more commonly seen are elk, grizzly bears, bison, wolves and even trumpeter swans! Another wonderful way to witness Montana's wildlife is to see one of 51 wild animals havens! Visiting a haven you have the possibility to check out animals in their natural surroundings, unlike checking out a zoo which often can be depressing. Refuges normally use numerous chances for magnificent photography, instructional chances or excursions (wonderful for kids!), outdoor tasks and also sometimes also camping!

Another chance you can take benefit of is going to a wild animals. There are a few of these in Montana which take care of animals which can no more go back to the wild. Similar to the idea of a zoo, nonetheless you will locate that the animals have about triple the space and are not truly "constrained". There is a Wolf Refuge concerning 16 miles from Missoula called "The Wolfkeep". They have a total of 10 wolves in a 10 acre enclosure, providing them maximum room to live freely. These of program are just several of the numerous fulfilling wildlife possibilities, a short checklist can quickly develop into a book. Montana teems with interesting locations to see and also brand-new experiences to endeavor, whether it is outdoors in the wild or inside with household and also good friends! will certainly reveal you truth capacity as well as all the benefits that Montana offers its homeowners daily.

[mountainviews350]

Why Buy A Ranch Close To Bozeman

They claim that the state of Montana is the last great frontier, yet Montana is moreover, it is a wonderful location that is filled up with so much to do yet offers many areas that are off the ruined path. Montana not just has many benefits to those that check out on a yearly basis, but it also has lots of advantages to those that live there on a long-term basis.

Right here are several of the huge benefits that living in Montana brings:

• No Sales Tax: That's right; invest away if you live in Montana since the sales tax obligation there is a tremendous 0%. That suggests more cash in your pocket and much less that you have to offer to old Uncle Sam. Don't really feel bad though, he constantly seems to obtain his fair share.

• Summertime Tasks: Montana is residence to part of the Rocky Mountains as well as in the summer season time there is no far better place to be. Hill biking, fishing, as well as backpacking are all part of what the Rockies have to provide its locals each and every year. When you make a decision to take a journey there, component of Yellowstone National Park is also in Montana and you can appreciate hot springtimes and even more angling.

• Fishing: In instance you missed it from the last pair of points, Montana is known worldwide for its wonderful angling. Fly angling is specifically prominent in the great state and lots of anglers that simply can't obtain sufficient of the terrific catches that Montana has to provide finish up discovering themselves as permanent homeowners prior to as well lengthy.

• Winter months Activates: When it obtains cold out and the white powder begins to drop, the state of Montana becomes among the very best position on Earth to be for snowboarding. The state boasts many different ski hotels and some globe class slopes making the state the suitable property place for the utmost ski fanatic.

• Get Away from the Group: One of the biggest things about staying in Montana is the truth that you can be near all the activity, however still not remain in the thick of it whatsoever times. Due to the fact that Montana still has many smaller sized towns and cities that have actually stayed tiny in population over the years, that is. Nevertheless, simply since they are small, does not mean that they are out in the boon-docks either. A number of Montana's smaller areas are located just miles beyond the bigger and also a lot more heavily booming areas such as Payments. This supplies the best circumstance for someone who wishes to stay in exclusive, yet still be close sufficient to enter into the fray of points when they intend to.

Montana might be the last excellent frontier, yet if you are right into the outdoors as well as delight in serene living with action simply around the bend, then this state might be for you. While a visit there will certainly provide you a preference of what the state has to use, just living there Montana is overwhelmed with remarkable places to witness the beauty of nature and also it's wildlife. With many mountains, rivers, lakes as well as woodlands that appear to have no end, it's not unusual that Montana has a higher selection of wildlife contrasted to any type of other state in the reduced 48. The entire state is a natural pet maintain. As popular as it is for people that are drawn to nature to intend to choose these impressive locations, there truly isn't much info out there to help you discover the very best places to go to. The average person would certainly advise to go to the zoo if you would like to see big amounts of diverse varieties in one place.

I would certainly recommend either seeing Glacier National Park or Yellowstone National Park if you are going to or live in Montana. I would also recommend not to neglect your electronic camera! A mistake I have frequently made and always was sorry for! In Glacier you will see mainly elk, moose, deer, hill goats, bighorn sheep as well as grizzly or even black bears. Yellowstone is unbelievably diverse, in the reality that there is method as well lots of pets to listing. The more commonly seen are elk, grizzly bears, bison, wolves as well as even trumpeter swans! One more wonderful way to witness Montana's wildlife is to check out among 51 wildlife refuges! Going to a haven you have the opportunity to visit pets in their native environment, unlike seeing a zoo which in some cases can be depressing. Sanctuaries usually use lots of opportunities for spectacular photography, academic chances or trips (wonderful for kids!), outdoor tasks and also occasionally also camping!

An additional possibility you can take advantage of is seeing a wild animals center. There are a few of these in Montana which take care of pets which can no longer return to the wild. Comparable to the concept of a zoo, nonetheless you will certainly find that the animals have concerning triple the room as well as are not actually "confined". For example there is a Wolf Sanctuary about 16 miles from Missoula called "The Wolfkeep". They have a total amount of 10 wolves in a 10 acre room, giving them maximum area to live freely. These certainly are only some of the numerous gratifying wildlife chances, a list can conveniently transform right into a novel. Montana has lots of interesting areas to check out as well as brand-new experiences to endeavor, whether it is outdoors in the wild or indoors with friends and family! will show you real capacity and also all the benefits that Montana presents its homeowners daily.