the coyote's voice is lyrical as she sings, note falling with the same ease and rhythm than autumn's tumbling leaves. each word is bright and cheerful against the monotonous world, and witchhazel can almost imagine the colours of the song, bright like the world she saw so long ago. abruptly do the notes stop, and the girl falls motionless. murmured instruction has her nimbly avoid the cluster of rock, one of the many here that her friend must guide her around. she knows she is in the clear when the coyote's guiding touch falls from her shoulder, and again do notes fall from her in an everchanging melody.
how small where they against the vastness of this place! they had travelled together since togo had returned that morn, and still did they find themselves in some wide open place. the day too had turned saturnine, the heavens growing heavy as flakes began to work their meandering way down to rest upon the duo's backs and the land all around. the girl's eyes strained against the growing darkness, and more frequently was the coyote's song interrupted by her gentle guidance, and yet there was little inclination that the canid grew cross.
for togo, too, was unwanted, unneeded. the coyote spoke little of why she'd been ousted so long ago, other than the reason may have something to do with the crooked set of her jaw and the warped hind limb that made her gait so distinctive. but appearances had never amounted to much in the woman's view, a sentiment that had only increased when her vision had been stolen by the fire so long ago. and so they were content together, the blind wolf and the ugly coyote.
it is when togo's song falters, and no guiding touch moves to her shoulder that the girl knows something is different. in the sudden silence, she can make out the sound of pawsteps, the soft crunch of snow. already she angles and tilts her head in order to attempt and make out the distant shape, yet it is only when the other draws near that she is able to distinguish a dark figure. togo moves near, whispering a clipped description by her ear; young, black, female, wolf. it is then that she draws back a fraction, yet remains close enough to touch.
for a moment, witchhazel's gaze fells short of the stranger, but after some adjustments, she finds again the dark shape before them. her tail moves at her hocks, a gentle banner flying her intent; peace. the coyote is still, silent, though her gaze cuts sharply towards the woman where hazel's merely finds a lucky spot to rest, somewhere near the shape's centre. the woman makes her introduction, and witchhazel murmurs a "hallo" that is nearly lost in the space between them. "you are friendly?" it is a gentle, careful inquiry, and the girl's tail ceases its motion a moment as she awaits and answer, salmon-pink tongue drawing once across her lips in a small, nervous gesture.
the winterbarren plain around them is disturbed once, with a breath of wind that has the flurries falling lose their way, dance sideways and upward before settling again on their downward journey. togo had whispered that spring must be coming, soon, but she herself had barely seen a year's turn and thus knew little on the matter. winter had stretched for eons, and each thaw seemed to reach an anticlimax with the coming of another blizzard.
the single gust was not an outlier as the flakes began to fall thicker, a subtle change that the girl did not notice. it was during snowfalls like the one that was destined to come that she was at her most helpless; her limited vision became negligible and the soundlessness that accompanied the precipitation made it near impossible to navigate without the aid of her companion. but the worst of the flurries would not come until night cast its shadow across the Wild, and that was hours away.
the girl introduced herself as Lily, and hazel followed suit a moment after. "my name is witchhazel" she was, of course, greatly relieved to know that she was no threat, and surely if she presented any sign of changing her intent, togo would be quick to alert her. she was silent a moment as her auds perked toward her companion a moment, waiting for an introduction that would not come. it was rare the smaller canid chose to speak with another, and even when alone, words rarely passed between them. theirs was a bond that required no words to explain or strengthen it, it merely was.
her mind had already danced away from the conversation at hand, and when the woman spoke once more she was delayed in her response. "we live nowhere," they were nomadic, rarely welcome and happy without the much more complex life that would come with falling in with a band, or a clan. besides, the coyote had been ill disposed to such groups since being ejected from her own.