Sheepeater Cliff To gather, such curious things

There were wolves that yearned to be reborn. Through the tempestuous fires of self-immolation, only then were their impurities wrought out. Then, there was Cassian who’d been gifted it. Effortlessly, but was it in vain? The threads of fate spastically wove amok without the wolf’s say in a twisted, parasitic ploy. As if to entertain themselves with a new toy, one who could fall on the drop of a dime now that he was free. Lost. Boundless. A foreign corpse born with the tracings of their previous master.

Life, from what’d been able to be garnered so far, was no different than a coin flip. Some wolves landed on heads. Others on tails. Then, there were those who dwelled on the sides. The grey, where few souls wandered without purpose. The grimy, twisted, gnarled grooves none other would dare pay attention to. Here, he would carve out a home. Here, he would hopefully find answers of who he once was. Here, he would find purpose and a way of life that suited him or he would die trying.

One thing that earned its gratitude in leaps and bounds was the wolf’s instincts. Those that went beyond the simple, shared core capabilities they all had. No, the previous owner of this vessel he now inhabited was a fierce one. One whose rampant, raging practices were ingrained well beyond the nimble palms of amnesia itself. Hunting was natural to Cassian, as a result. Being made well aware of what could be garnered as feasible game and which scents to steer clear of. These beasts were ones that did not come with any image, unfortunately, but their mere daunting presence was enough to send static weighing down upon his fur. True apex predators that would, without an ounce of remorse or thought, still their claws into his being and take his soul for their own pleasure.

The thought alone was enough to jostle him awake in any tired state. Even in the slumber he’d found himself in just a pawful of hours ago. His heart skipped and coupled itself with a blatant, deafening tone; and, only when it stilled, did Cassian rise. Why did that occur? The foreboding visions that haunted him when his eyes blanketed into darkness, were they truly his own? “Too many questions,” he mumbled, gruffly before rising and shaking off the debris that accumulated since he last laid down. Westwards he went, aiming for the jagged cliffs that laid beyond. Scents were a powerful thing, he’d since learned, but sight reigned supreme. While other wolves may have had this neck of the world memorized to perfection, it was a privilege he sorely lacked. Any visual aid would be well appreciated.

This forest, short lived as it’d been, had brought good fortune upon him. Within his stomach broiled half a colony of rabbits, the other half having made a successful escape. Despite this positive venture, a particularly prideful corner of the wolf's mind festered. Not a single one should’ve escaped. They all should’ve been felled, but just as quickly as the thought was born…it died off. When he brushed past the last verdant shrub, a stellar view bore its beauty forth to the reborn wolf. A clear sky, accompanied by the sun's splay and a contrasting, chilly breeze that’d been previously stifled by the berthed trees. It felt good to be alive. It felt good to be in the here and now, even if there was another wolf sitting on its haunches over yonder.

A single sniff was made by Cassian. Did he mistakenly cross into another pack’s territory? Surely not, unless his nose betrayed him. So, if not that, then why was there a lone stray out here? The question could’ve easily been flipped on him, he concluded. Quite easily, actually. This helped bring him some sense of clarity as he bridged the gap between them. By the end of his endeavors there lay a distance of approximately three yards between the two of them. Gray fur coated the other’s frame. A stark, feminine scent was mired into her. The way they sat, he found it amusing.

So, he copied it, following their example despite them being unable to see the replication. From here, Cassian could see it. A rushing, ferocious river just over the edge of the cliff. Although, it was too far out to jump into. If it hadn’t been, perhaps he’d have dived into it, despite how foolhardy of an idea it seemed.

“What are you doing?”

His voice, it spoke with the innocence of a being not yet tampered by the world and its cruel, haphazard ways. Curiosity, genuine in its purest form, rang forth from the sun-kissed wolf. Those brown eyes of his swam across the grey storms of this stranger’s coat, carefully watching for movements and twitches of muscles. Getting lost somewhere along the way.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”