[ I'm assuming this is the "play with the gourds" thing? :o Jigano ]
So, what had been going on lately was .. both disturbing and entirely normal. You see, to Rory, gourds coming alive and running rampant was a brand new experience, but it was also a very Caido flavor of weird. So while his first encounter with the beastly vegetables outside his front door had been to yelp and leap back inside, he wasn't too traumatized. It was a pain, sure, the dogs were confused and the goats either terrified or in paradise—food came to them!
Turned out the mares and the goats were better at dealing with living gourds than the dogs or Bakshi, who spent most of his days hiding at the back of their stall, refusing to come near the devilish things.
Even after weeks of them being around.
So Rory had left the mares guarding the goats, the dogs indoor, Bakshi in his stall, and the goats-and-mares feasting on gourds whenever there was an incursion. He'd gone on foot into the forest, wearing his greatcoat, the rusty, trusty pike, and his hair in a messy braid.
When suddenly: while browsing through the undergrowth for late mushrooms, crouched down on the edge of a clearing, a fox and a pack of gourds broke into it. The fox was beautiful, eerie white and ghost-like, perfect enough that Rory's brain couldn't help but think of the price its fur would fetch, and the gourds were the usual rabble: bright-eyed and sharp-toothed, mashing seeds and rinds together and making the most disconcerting noise as they bounced and jostled across the ground, obviously chasing the fox, who seemed to encourage them.
Rory held his breath, sitting in place, enchanted by the bizarre scene he was witness to.
So, what had been going on lately was .. both disturbing and entirely normal. You see, to Rory, gourds coming alive and running rampant was a brand new experience, but it was also a very Caido flavor of weird. So while his first encounter with the beastly vegetables outside his front door had been to yelp and leap back inside, he wasn't too traumatized. It was a pain, sure, the dogs were confused and the goats either terrified or in paradise—food came to them!
Turned out the mares and the goats were better at dealing with living gourds than the dogs or Bakshi, who spent most of his days hiding at the back of their stall, refusing to come near the devilish things.
Even after weeks of them being around.
So Rory had left the mares guarding the goats, the dogs indoor, Bakshi in his stall, and the goats-and-mares feasting on gourds whenever there was an incursion. He'd gone on foot into the forest, wearing his greatcoat, the rusty, trusty pike, and his hair in a messy braid.
When suddenly: while browsing through the undergrowth for late mushrooms, crouched down on the edge of a clearing, a fox and a pack of gourds broke into it. The fox was beautiful, eerie white and ghost-like, perfect enough that Rory's brain couldn't help but think of the price its fur would fetch, and the gourds were the usual rabble: bright-eyed and sharp-toothed, mashing seeds and rinds together and making the most disconcerting noise as they bounced and jostled across the ground, obviously chasing the fox, who seemed to encourage them.
Rory held his breath, sitting in place, enchanted by the bizarre scene he was witness to.
