Open Thread

Peak District National Park is in central England. Steep limestone valleys like Dovedale, with its famed stepping stones, and Lathkill Dale characterise the park’s southern area, which is known as White Peak. North, the Dark Peak area has dramatic gritstone ridges and stark moorland plateaus like Kinder Scout, the park’s highest point.


Postby Frankie » Sat Aug 26, 2017 10:24 pm

She dreamt of rabbits. Fluffy, plump rabbits like the ones she chased back home. She dreamt of home also, heather and moss beneath her feet. It was a good dream. It did not last.


Frankie awoke to the sound of a broad Derbyshire accent. It hurt her ears and the stench of nicotine filled the air. For a moment she almost willed herself back to sleep, but the booming voice pierced her ears once more.

"Miss. 'ere, Ducky...you can't be sleeping there!" The park ranger began poking at her legs with his stick causing Frankie to ash out with one leg. Her shin hit against his and she growled at the pain before sitting up. Her vision shifted from animal to human and then back and forth before settling on human vision. Blue eyes blinked up at the Ranger from the makeshift bed she'd made out of her coat and rucksack.

"Am moving." She gathered her things and waxed jacket back on and looked up to the sky. It was a little passed seven in the morning. She did not speak to the ranger again, and phased out from hearing him as he began questioning what she had been doing. She picked up her rucksack, pushed her hair from he face and began walking.

Mist rolled over the moorlands and she allowed herself to relax into the motion of walking. Walking had purpose and that suited her. A wolf without purpose was a lost animal. She happily clocked in over 20 miles a day and as she continued walking she knew she needed to shift soon. She'd been in human form for far too long and it felt like a constant itch that she could not scratch. She hated human form, it was not natural for her. Not like her parents, they'd suited both forms but she had never developed the temperament.

The hours trickled by and as it neared nine AM her stomach began grumbling. Frankie stopped at a few rocks and dropped her rucksack. She had tried hunting last night but had been so tired she had not the energy to shift. Rested, she could of shifted then and there but knew ramblers walked the moorlands and did not want to run the risk of being seen by humans. No, she would have to hunt in human form. Which, in her humble opinion was utterly useless.

On the ground there were Hare droppings. She padded quickly across the mossy ground until she reached the burrow. Remaining downwind she began to tether a snare. Content she walked back to the rocks, sat down and waited.
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