I wrote you a set of three drabbles for request 4 :)
Day 23--Compass in the river. Phone dead. I'm sure everyone at Denali is going to have a good laugh. I saw it again though, and it's not a damn bear. Couldn't get my camera out in the midst of dropping the compass though. My hands trembled too much.
It looked at me, and our eyes met. Dark brown with whites barely showing, deep set in its face. I felt as though it wanted me to see--as though it wished to say firm as it could "I am here."
I am terrified that it views me as a threat.
Day 31--It's a she, and she is here. My leg barely is though, and none of the rangers will be laughing. Fall from the rocks. Compound fracture.
She approached after I screamed my head off. (I thought she was a bear this time.) I've been carried to somewhere behind the waterfall, and everything's set, splinted, and poulticed with something pungent and horseradishy. She brings me berries and some sort of rhizomes. Her hands are very warm.
I want to write more, but it feels like an invasion--an imposition. I want to write things more personal than field observations.
Day 56--She is very gentle with the leg, but it still hurts very much
Day 73--She is very gentle altogether, and something like the scent of earth in spring and autumn clings to her coat. I feel as if she would speak when her hand is on my face, and all the words I say to her would be insufficient if she understood them. Sometimes, I touch her back, and she smiles. I am glad so many primates know how to smile.
Day 124--Leg healed, but I'm staying for now. I think that she would like that.
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carisma_sensei
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Date: 2020-01-05 01:34 pm (UTC)Day 23--Compass in the river. Phone dead. I'm sure everyone at Denali is going to have a good laugh. I saw it again though, and it's not a damn bear. Couldn't get my camera out in the midst of dropping the compass though. My hands trembled too much.
It looked at me, and our eyes met. Dark brown with whites barely showing, deep set in its face. I felt as though it wanted me to see--as though it wished to say firm as it could "I am here."
I am terrified that it views me as a threat.
Day 31--It's a she, and she is here. My leg barely is though, and none of the rangers will be laughing. Fall from the rocks. Compound fracture.
She approached after I screamed my head off. (I thought she was a bear this time.) I've been carried to somewhere behind the waterfall, and everything's set, splinted, and poulticed with something pungent and horseradishy. She brings me berries and some sort of rhizomes. Her hands are very warm.
I want to write more, but it feels like an invasion--an imposition. I want to write things more personal than field observations.
Day 56--She is very gentle with the leg, but it still hurts very much
Day 73--She is very gentle altogether, and something like the scent of earth in spring and autumn clings to her coat. I feel as if she would speak when her hand is on my face, and all the words I say to her would be insufficient if she understood them. Sometimes, I touch her back, and she smiles. I am glad so many primates know how to smile.
Day 124--Leg healed, but I'm staying for now. I think that she would like that.