King Elk Forest i'm just taking a greyhound on the hudson river line
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Ooc — Wintersong
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#1
All Welcome 
Green eyes flashed in the darkened wood, the glow of dusk casting a soft light on the wolf. She groomed her pelt meticulously, but her shoulders, ribs, and hips stood out against her thin summer coat. Her body had lost its youthful roundness, having been replaced with hard lines and sharp edges. The last season or so had changed her considerably. Standing here was no longer a girl, but a soldier. Conclusion: she would survive.

 Viper Eremos pushed herself forward, determined to hunt and find a place to rest before nightfall. Her slight form weaved through the low conifer branches, their soft green needles tickling her neck and back. Orange evening sun dappled her autumn pelt, lightening it to the color of ripe persimmons. Her gaze flitted from one tree to the next, scanning the undergrowth for squirrel or hare--she was too small to catch elk from the herd that roamed in its namesake. But the only sounds in the forest were birdsong and the whisper of the wind through the woodland.

With a sigh of frustration, she padded into a small glade, circling the treeline to decide where to try next.
"Unwept, unfriended, without marriage-song, I am led forth in my sorrow on this journey that can be delayed no more.
No longer, hapless one, may I behold yon day-star's sacred eye; for my fate no tear is shed, no friend makes moan."


--From Antigone by Sophocles
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#2
These last few days have been quiet for Cecily. Not a soul has crossed her path since her abrasive encounter with the rogue, giving her time to heal. She still has the scars to show for it; a jagged bite mark on her shoulder that twinges painfully whenever she moves, however, it is beginning to become bearable. Where she's able to find the materials needed for a poultice, she knows roughly, and here seemed a good place to start.

The former voyager winds her way between the gathering shadows, head low and tail high as she searches the forest floor. She is well practiced in the arts of healing and herbology, given her time as a ranger, which allows her to easily find and retrieve what is necessary. Her ears prick as movement ahead catches her attention and her tail lowers as her nostrils flare at the earthy scent of the stranger. It isn't long before she too emerges into the clearing and sets down her mouthful of cobwebs. "Good evening, Miss," she speaks in her low tones, settling down on her haunches to as she waits for the wolf to notice her presence.
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Ooc — Wintersong
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#3
Viper sensed, rather than smelled or heard the she-wolf draw near. Turning to face her, the auburn-furred woman assessed the fellow loner with one calculating brisk look. She flicked an ear out of amusement at being addressed as "miss." She was one or two years this wolf's junior, but no offense was intended and didn't take any.

"Good evening," she responded coolly in her softly accented voice, her stance guarded but confident. Watching as the wolf place a bouquet of silvery cobwebs between them before sitting down. Either subconsciously or on purpose--the wolf had put herself in a disadvantage--lowering herself into a position to be eye-level with the Arabian. Viper's rigid posture loosened just slightly, but she cocked an eyebrow, waiting expectantly for the wolf to continue.
"Unwept, unfriended, without marriage-song, I am led forth in my sorrow on this journey that can be delayed no more.
No longer, hapless one, may I behold yon day-star's sacred eye; for my fate no tear is shed, no friend makes moan."


--From Antigone by Sophocles
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#4
Cecily remains seated as she watches the flame through golden eyes. It is not unusual for wolves to be stiff and guarded towards those of unfamiliar origins, and so the older woman is not surprised when her own actions are welcomed with sharp movements. "You were searching for something?" she enquires, her head inclining slightly to one side as if noting the she-wolf's pacing from before.

As the younger wolf approaches, Cecily takes the time to study her more closely. She is tense, that is clear, and smaller than herself but that is to be expected. Her ribs are prominently seen through her rich, auburn pelt, but beneath what is visible, she notices lines of sinew and growing muscle that point towards a more sturdy build. Come winter, she will be something to admire. "The forest is a provider, so long as you know where to look," she continues with a light smile, her unmarked limb reaching out to indicate her small bundle of web and leaf. Perhaps they could hunt; the woodland seemed alive with prey and with two of them, they would stand more of a chance. 

As if on cue, a deep bellowing echoed through the darkening sky, and Cecily twists round and rises to her paws before looking back briefly at the caramel Arab with a swish if her tail as if to ask, shall we? Where there is a buck, there would be a herd.
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#5
A flicker of amusement passed over her, but it was gone before it could settle in her face. "No, nothing important," Viper answered, nodding to the woman's unspoken proposal. Her ears swiveled, pinpointing the direction of the bull's mellow exclaimation. The clamor of hooves on the forest floor accompanied him from another direction. She could spare this woman a hunt--she just hoped she was still strong enough to bring an animal down, even with help.

"I never properly introduced myself. My name is Viper Eremos." She walked alongside the silvery dame at a brisk but comfortable pace, unwilling to risk losing the herd or overlooking a scent.
"Unwept, unfriended, without marriage-song, I am led forth in my sorrow on this journey that can be delayed no more.
No longer, hapless one, may I behold yon day-star's sacred eye; for my fate no tear is shed, no friend makes moan."


--From Antigone by Sophocles
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She leads them deeper into the trees after the chestnut woman dips her head, her bundle of her remedies left for where she could return for them later. The thunder of hoof-beats isn't far off and, by the sounds of things, Cecily guesses that some other creature has distrupted the herd enough to get them on the run. She doesn't care much for who or what, but she picks up her pace knowing that they will have limited time before they are out of range completely.

The forest woman lopes at a steady pace, her ears pricking as her partner turns to speak, but ignores her for now. Up ahead, movement has caught her attention and she slows to a trot before glancing back. By the buck's pungent scent, it is infected; Cecily has smelt the sickly rotting odour enough times to know that. Through her sun-bright eyes, she watches the beast amble painfully in the direction of his brethren, one limb dragging in the dark soil; he mustve been too slow to keep pace and would be a lot easier to take down than a healthy cow. She lowers her head and turns to Viper, muzzle twitching as she seeks confirmation.