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Description
5. Freedom is never absolute. There always responsibilities, either to yourself or to others who are relying on you. Depict your tokota struggling with this limited freedom, and making the choice between freedom and responsibility. Either choice is valid, but they must choose.

It was in the summer, when the spring snows were long gone and sodden in the dirt and sand, when the tawny dun had met Paykel for the first time on the outskirts of Coastal Tyonek. It would be an encounter that marked the end of his solitary freedom, and the beginning of a strong bond with his two-legged partner.

She was no more than sixteen; a young girl who had just lost her grandmother. She piqued his interest as he saw her hiding by the wood crates as the morning’s catches were rolled in. He seldom came by the town, but usually in the summer pickings were easy with the boatfuls of fish arriving at the coastal town’s docks. Some of the locals were friendly, throwing him scraps of entrails and cuts.

He saw her hunger in the way her eyes lit up at the sight of food and understood the emptiness in her stomach - for the tokota, it was a constant. The wild Tokota had been mistakenly deceived by her lithe frame when she had wrestled him fiercely for a warm mackerel which, of course, he won.

Her parents had been incredibly devoted to the species. Or at least it was what her grandmother had told her of them. Not even the fear of starvation had impelled Paykel to let go of the pendant that was left for her by her parents, its worth far more than any hot meal she could stomach. As she fell back, the girl had stared at him. The initial primal hunger that taken over her had subsided into an awe as she came to grasp the encounter with the wild Tokota. Any move made towards him as he ate he would respond with a retorting growl.

“Kurra.”

To growl.
At this, the Tokota male lifted his head, the creature surprising her with his tolerance of her and the rare display of benignity. It was in the deep tea red pools of his eyes that Paykel saw a spirit that was feral and selfish and free. Yet ever so uncharacteristically for a wild animal, especially one as self-serving as this one, he came close to her.

“Apache.”

His thick cream-coloured fur was rough but thick as wool as she had dared brush his neck. The dun that crowned his forehead and ran along the slopes of his back were like the dark mountain lines along the alps in summer.

The Tokota male was unsure what had led him to not only tolerate this girl but help her. Perhaps it was the way her face reminded her of something, or rather someone. When the fishmonger had caught the two, and the dismembered mackerel that lay in between them, there was little consideration for whose fault it was as he waved his fillet knife. Without thinking, the tawny male had pushed the girl with his heavy head towards his flank, and just as instinctively she had grasped onto the fur of his neck and flattened herself on his back.

There were no questions needed, no uncertainties. And they ran. They never looked back, heading for the mountains and the snow as the eagles screeched their liberated cries of exultation, where they would wander and drift nomadically until settling at the foothills of the Tartok Mountains, the base of Tsula Tribe, where they would finally call their home.

565 WC
+10 for including handler or starter
+10 for accurate setting
+10 for short story of at least 500 words
+10 for including soul animal, worked into scenery or theme.
1/3 RoDs for my first tokota boy and how he met his handler Paykel.

Description
5. Freedom is never absolute. There always responsibilities, either to yourself or to others who are relying on you. Depict your tokota struggling with this limited freedom, and making the choice between freedom and responsibility. Either choice is valid, but they must choose.

It was in the summer, when the spring snows were long gone and sodden in the dirt and sand, when the tawny dun had met Paykel for the first time on the outskirts of Coastal Tyonek. It would be an encounter that marked the end of his solitary freedom, and the beginning of a strong bond with his two-legged partner.

She was no more than sixteen; a young girl who had just lost her grandmother. She piqued his interest as he saw her hiding by the wood crates as the morning’s catches were rolled in. He seldom came by the town, but usually in the summer pickings were easy with the boatfuls of fish arriving at the coastal town’s docks. Some of the locals were friendly, throwing him scraps of entrails and cuts.

He saw her hunger in the way her eyes lit up at the sight of food and understood the emptiness in her stomach - for the tokota, it was a constant. The wild Tokota had been mistakenly deceived by her lithe frame when she had wrestled him fiercely for a warm mackerel which, of course, he won.

Her parents had been incredibly devoted to the species. Or at least it was what her grandmother had told her of them. Not even the fear of starvation had impelled Paykel to let go of the pendant that was left for her by her parents, its worth far more than any hot meal she could stomach. As she fell back, the girl had stared at him. The initial primal hunger that taken over her had subsided into an awe as she came to grasp the encounter with the wild Tokota. Any move made towards him as he ate he would respond with a retorting growl.

“Kurra.”

To growl.
At this, the Tokota male lifted his head, the creature surprising her with his tolerance of her and the rare display of benignity. It was in the deep tea red pools of his eyes that Paykel saw a spirit that was feral and selfish and free. Yet ever so uncharacteristically for a wild animal, especially one as self-serving as this one, he came close to her.

“Apache.”

His thick cream-coloured fur was rough but thick as wool as she had dared brush his neck. The dun that crowned his forehead and ran along the slopes of his back were like the dark mountain lines along the alps in summer.

The Tokota male was unsure what had led him to not only tolerate this girl but help her. Perhaps it was the way her face reminded her of something, or rather someone. When the fishmonger had caught the two, and the dismembered mackerel that lay in between them, there was little consideration for whose fault it was as he waved his fillet knife. Without thinking, the tawny male had pushed the girl with his heavy head towards his flank, and just as instinctively she had grasped onto the fur of his neck and flattened herself on his back.

There were no questions needed, no uncertainties. And they ran. They never looked back, heading for the mountains and the snow as the eagles screeched their liberated cries of exultation, where they would wander and drift nomadically until settling at the foothills of the Tartok Mountains, the base of Tsula Tribe, where they would finally call their home.

565 WC
+10 for including handler or starter
+10 for accurate setting
+10 for short story of at least 500 words
+10 for including soul animal, worked into scenery or theme.
1/3 RoDs for my first tokota boy and how he met his handler Paykel.