Dragoncrest Cliffs -- tricks, tools, joy

@Hux !

It was not like her to make so many mistakes.

She had found her way to the edges of the border by nightfall to identify the plants in Drageda's furthest reaches and come across something deadly disguised as something harmless.  The shade had bent to inspect the plant and the next thing she knew — in her mind, at least — she couldn't breathe.  It was a sensation she would later describe as crushing, like the ocean had been dumped on top of her and breath came to her in shallow bursts as her muscles pulled taut, causing her to kick feebly at the ground.

Corva had always returned to the cliffs of Drageda by morning, fear had kept her from roaming too far when daylight stole her vision.

Shortly after the sun rose the hallucinations began, a cruel un-reality that nearly made her believe she could see once more.  Corva nearly thought they were visions until it was the past she was reliving and it was herself she saw, cast out and unbearably alone after the death of her family.

She took the strength she had to raise her maw to the air and screamed, spilling the grieved contents of her lungs into the open air — an unintelligible, throaty noise of fear and remorse.  It was a loud form of ugly-crying, of weakness that if she were sound of mind she would be ashamed of.

It was her only hope that nobody would hear.

Hux awakens just as the sun begins to rise, the western sky a dusky blue while ribbons of pink and orange begin to swirl in the east. He decides to make an early morning patrol and heads north as the shadows shrink all around him. The sky is rife with birdsong, a sound that often annoys him, but this morning he does not mind the cheerful cries of the winged creatures trilling from the evergreen canopies. Hux has not made much progress before another sound cuts through the birdsong and shatters his easygoing mood. A shrill, bone chilling scream.

His ears twitch in alarm but he does not stop, bolting into a sprint towards what he believes to be the source of the cry. Now, he is overflowing with anxiety, and he wonders what has gone wrong this time - things have not been perfect in Drageda lately, with Thuringwethil's illness, Wildfire's disappearance... arlo's death. He hurries on, hoping that perhaps he will reach the woman in peril before another tragedy arises.

The female may have been a shadow, but he spots and recognises her for what she really is - a beautiful wolfess, but one with unspeakable fear in her eyes. Or is it pain? Hux does not know. His ears lower as he pauses a healthy distance away from her, wishing not to alarm her further. "Are you hurt?" he asks, knowing that this is the most important question, which must be asked first. Still, he is puzzled by the lack of blood, the absence of any evildoer, not a wolf nor a predator in range.