LOBO de CRIN o BOROCHI (Chrysocyon brachyurus)

Cánido de las pampas. Los guaraníes lo llaman aguará guasú ("zorro grande")
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no contiene mal ni corrupción; | es verdad que no encontrarán nada de perfección |
salvo en materia de reír; |
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--François Rabelais (circa 1534) [english]

lunes, 23 de agosto de 2010

Ratha's Island

Ratha's Island, a Twitter novelette by Clare Bell, author of the Ratha or Named series.
Prepared for Twitter by Sheila Ruth and Clare Bell. Inspiration by Sheila Ruth. Copyright 2009
The Twitter search tag or hashtag for the story posts is #rathafic 
I've added a new hashtag for the accompanying link posts: #rathalink
Installments appear daily at 12 noon and 6 PM Pacific Time on Twitter. Some archive links appear overnight from Hootsuite, but I Tweet live.
Story archive pages are #1 The Scratching Log http://www.rathascourage.com/scratchlog.html
And #2 The Ratha Series Forum http://forum.rathascourage.com/index.php?showtopic=156
Archive pages will have text links to photos and blog posts about creatures in the story. You can also leave comments.

Ratha, female leader of the Named cat clan, paused on the meadow trail, one forefoot raised.
To one side, the small three-toed horses that the Named called dapplebacks, huddled nervously.
On the other, the three-horned deer stamped and shook their heads.
The deer stabbed up with their forked nose-horns, as if at an invisible enemy only they could see. 
Even the sky, choked with low clouds, seemed a threat. Ratha lifted her head, narrowing her eyes.
Just below the clouds two shapes circled.
Yes, they were birds, probably eagles, but she had never seen eagles this large.
Ratha knew the hawks and eagles that often sailed over clan ground, but she hadn't seen these birds before.
They seemed to fly much faster, making her even more uneasy.
Her ears flattened, their tips lifted, showing anger rather than fear.
Often her ears showed her emotions before they really surfaced in her thoughts. At that idea, they twitched.

At a safe distance from the three-horns, Ratha saw Thakur, the clan's herding teacher. 
He was showing the younger cubs how to circle and drive a three-horn fawn.
His head lifted; she knew he had seen the white spots on the backs of her ears.
He raised a paw toward the young herder Ashon, who was helping him with the cubs
The clouds gave a gray cast to Thakur's usually bright copper coat and the wind blew the feathering around his legs.
He hadn't yet lost all of his winter fur. Neither had Ratha; Fessran had teased her about being shaggy.
He bounded to her through the grass and nose-touched with her. He too, looked up at the sky, where the birds circled.
"They look big enough to carry off a dappleback or a young three-horn," he said. He lifted his muzzle, following her gaze. 

Thakur wrinkled his nose, worry crumpling the black tear-lines that ran down his cheek.
"I've never seen birds like those before," Ratha said, only allowing herself to only briefly enjoy...
... the feel and scent of him standing against her. She had chosen him as her mate, and more.
"What are those birds?" Ratha asked Thakur.
"Condor-eagles. Bring the herdbeasts under the trees, so the birds can't swoop and grab one."
"Alert the herders," she said, feeling her voice sharpen with command. 
"I see Fessran over there," she added. "Get her to summon the torch-bearers."
"Do birds fear fire as ground creatures do?" Thakur asked.

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And then

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