Wapun Meadow i broke my bones playing games with you

@Xan backdated to the 19th, this is honestly kind of terrible but owell sorry

He took his regrets east with him, unsure where he was going but knowing well that he could not return. Not yet. Nathaniel had never been much of a vagabond type, but Tindome did not call to him; it never had. The former soldier could no longer bring himself to patrol the borders, to bite his tongue in Queenie's presence, to pretend it was home— it wasn't. His only ties to the pack had been Burke, dead, and Mona— gone. Gone.
It was his own fault, but the knowledge only intensified the sting. Had he only realized it was too much, too fast for her— things would have been different. Nathaniel had never taken his own mistakes lightly; but he was not certain why he had left. He knew he should have sought her, but— he hadn't, and he didn't know yet if that was a decision he would live with forever.
It was early when Nat rose— damn, he was stiff. Perhaps the years were catching up to him now. He remembered Burke, motionless, and decided he didn't want to think about that. Slightly shaken, the Rochester put his energy towards a hunt. He found success quickly; a wounded fawn trailed far behind its mother, the prey itself proving easy— though its protector was another story. Several sharp kicks to the neck and shoulders later, Nathaniel achingly dragged his kill to a safer spot. He settled with it warily, all too aware of the nearby pack. It was nestled in a valley, with no real danger of him stumbling into it, but he watched the direction carefully nonetheless. No part of him wanted company, not now.

For the first time in a great while, Alexander ventured out beyond the walls of his valley. He was in desperate need of some time away, even if said time would be but a brief moment; he appreciated it none the less whilst he meandered along, attentive but not looking for a fight—not this time. His legs carried him out towards the meadow, which had been covered in snow the last he’d seen it—but no longer. Now, there were some flowers beginning to bloom whilst others had already achieved that phase of their cycle. Although he wasn’t the least bit interested in plants, he could appreciate the beauty of it—along with the ache in his heart as he was reminded of Kendra, wondering to himself what she would have thought of the sight. His mind then jumped to his wife and her offering of flowers once upon a time, which brought him peace; he would always miss Kendra, his first friend, but he’d since learned that he could miss her whilst still moving forward with his own life.

The various scents—the flowers, blood, a wolf—from an area beyond his sights caught the albino’s attention and drew him in, the scent of prey not so easily ignored; that someone was apparently hunting so near to his home was concerning and irritating, and something that he couldn’t ignore. And so, he sought out the source and stared the other male down, tail raised and ears pushed forward, then asked but a single question: “What are you doing here?”