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The Heartwood i wanna go home, but my love gets me through. - Printable Version

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i wanna go home, but my love gets me through. - Finley - October 28, 2016

The sun was setting over the Wilds. The woods glowed with gold from the light that filtered in between the branches overhead. It danced across Finley's back as she slept against the gnarled roots of a tree deep within the Heartwood. For all the world, she appeared to be sleeping soundly, almost peacefully, as though not a care in the world weighed down her gently rising and falling chest.

A group of sparrows that were sitting overhead took flight with cries of shock and protest when Finley jerked quite suddenly awake.  Were she human and not a wolf, sweat would have drenched her skin  as she panted and glanced around her. She stood abruptly and shook herself, as though trying to fling something off of her. She was in a way, but try as she might, her latest nightmare still held tightly to her mind. Lucy dead. Her kidnapper savagely triumphant. Lucy dead.

It was still lingering on her mind when a few minutes later, she was splashing into a nearby stream. The water was shallow, but she rolled in it to rinse every part of her. It wouldn't wash away the anxiety, but she did feel a small bit better as she stepped back onto the shore with water dripping from her fur. She shook again to get rid of the excess moisture before turning to gulp down a few mouthfuls of the cool liquid. It was a relief to her body, as had been the small morsel of food she'd managed to steal from some other carnivore's cache the night before. It was only a little, but it was enough to give her strength.

Finley turned to look at the forest around her thoughtfully. She had come from the North and had intended to trace her way back down to the South. She would go East from there, towards the Sunspire mountain range and Rising Sun Valley beyond. It had been years since she'd been back that way, and yet nothing of nostalgia touched her as she considered it. As always, the Blackthorn was filled with purpose and determination so much that little else got through other than the ceaseless fear for what may have befallen her little Spot, and the terrible longing for the day she would find her girl again.