Bramblepoint Bring that summer on your shoulders

ooc: WHATWHATWHATWHATWHATOMG

IC;

If Fox was gone, he could possibly settle back into Redhawk Caldera. If the scents in the area were speaking the truth, then Elwood and Finley were still around; even after his banishment, Elwood had been kind fo him; he'd understood. Shrike hadn't had the courage to lie to the male about how he'd turned Fox down, and he felt that Elwood simply understood. He'd failed Elwood, by not finding Lucy. True, he'd managed to find Peter's killer and ensure that she was dead and buried, though the act had almost taken his own life as well, due to the sickness she'd carried. He'd even commanded a subordinate- Sassafras- to bury him alive with the body, lest he should carry the disease too. 

In the time that had flown since he'd left the Forest, life had dredged on, he felt as heavy as a wolf trying to pull itself from waters after swimming for hours, but the meaninglessness to his travels had made him feel like nothing more than the mist. Though the mist burned off in the sun every morning, leaving him wishing he was fabricated of nothing more than moisture and air, too, so that he did not have to endure the length and void of the days. 

For a moment, he considered calling out for Elwood; he needed something to give his life meaning again. Not that he had any hope it'd cure the tear in his heart, but still- he needed somewhere to live for the winter, some sort of purpose or he knew he would simply lay down and give up, allow the snow to pile high upon his ribs and flanks, leave nothing left to be found come spring but a faded memory of a wolf. The wind ruffled his fur, and he concentrated on isolating Elwood's scent...But the skilled tracker's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes snapped open. 

He would not mistake that scent, and Shrike did not believe that he could have fabricated that scent with his mind, not matter how much he'd craved to smell it again. Breath expelled from his lips in a quiet, percussive and muffled bark and he swivveled upon his feet. He drew in a breath slowly, feeling the air filted through receptors that still remembered, and he took his first, faltering step. He'd never stopped tracking her- not until he'd decided that to save his own life, he'd need to join a pack for the winter. Even then, he'd chosen this place, a place where he could renew his search. One step after another led him closer, until he was absolutely certain- and then the angular male took off at a mad dash. 

He did not doubt himself for a moment. Hope had never left him- and he responded the same way he'd still likely respond if he came upon Lucy's scent. Shrike was built for tracking, and he never forgot a scent. His mind went blank, and he barely registered the scenery as it whipped past him, focusing all his attention on the scent which grew stronger and stronger. He was hardly composed as he leapt hastily over a burdock bush, not clearing it in the least and as he landed, he took at least 30 burdocks with him, entangled in the gunmetal of his pelt- but as soon as his paws hit the ground, he leaned into his hocks and came sliding to a halt. 

In the distance, all he could see was the black of her pelt; but between a gap in the shrubs, he saw a flash of white, and he knew it was her. He couldn't bring himself to call out- he tried, but all that passed his lips was a pathetic, but endearing whine.