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...followed in the wake of descent. If one with a kind eye could call the rush of tan hide such a thing upon the mountain. Humble as the wanderer perceived herself to be, for her gait upon mountainous terrain, there was pride; as she believed her steps were on par with those of the deer gallivanting across the open fields. Her paws were but whispers on the steppes of the peaks with hardly a stone bothered by the weight of her bodice to the earth. Her dance was practiced, well rehearsed from her time upon her own Sunspire, and always did the bound bring a gentle smile to her face. Though with all sense of pride, there was a humbling blow.

The slopes were not those of her Sunspire, more jagged and unrelenting as she attempted her descent. Each step was heavy giving way to frigid rock to fall from the graces of her peaks in graceless exhibition, nearly scrambling several times to maintain her balance. Even her tail was a useless rudder to keep her aloft, its wild swaying doing nothing to hold her in place. Had an eye been watching, she must have looked like a yearling attempting to stand for the first time; all unbalanced with legs flailing until inevitably she skid the remainder to the base of the mountain. And her pride did suffer as she took her first relieved breath of the new air. Her heart hammered madly until she could stand it no longer, and collapsed into rugged heap upon sandy shores.

Oh yes... it was here. These gentle turning waters and soft beckoning shores. The worth of her tumble come from what her eyes could behold. The very life that thrived beneath the prison of fine ice. And the view itself... nestled within the frigid bosom of the mountain. No... certainly, there was no finer view than this.

When she'd arrived into her newest pack, Fox had been following a creek. Swiftcurrent Creek it was called. She had been following it coming from the east and heading west. So it only made sense that she would keep on following it eventually. So off she went, skipping out of her new home and up, up, up the mountain. It wasn't easy, of course, but it did help that she weighed a measly sixty-five pounds. Her petite form was an advantage more times than it was not, and the few times that it wasn't, she was able to bend things around to her own liking in the end.

Fox had come to the mouth of a lake. Or rather, the source of her creek. Whichever it was, she'd found it, and she squinted at it with curiosity. Lightly, she pawed at the water. It was incredibly cold, and she didn't dare take a dip, but she did stop for a drink at the shore, her pink tongue slipping out to lap up the clear water. After she'd stopped for a few minutes, a clambering crumbling sound had her attention. It wasn't too far off, and being the curious girl she was, Fox immediately took off toward it, stepping lightly along the shores of her newfound lake (yes, she did believe that everything belonged to her).

"Take a tumble, did ya?" she asked once she spotted the source of the commotion. Fox could see the dust and grime all over the stranger, and smirked at the sight of it. "I s’pose not everybody is as spry as us little ones." Although it wasn't clear who "us" was, considering Fox was the only small one around.

Peace was hers if only for a moment, at a time when she could rest her weathered paws. The tumbled had opened the blisters of her travel, but not so much as to warrant the immediate attention of a healing tongue. Instead, she would let the cooling touch of the snow numb the pain to naught as well as her mind til her ears were distracted.

Looking up from the ice, she spied the miniature form of a lupine female. Spry, indeed. If not light on her delicate paws as well. Though it was not her ability which drew the female's attention. More so the size of the fox colored girl. She was small... terribly small. Had the scent of age not accompanied her, the wanderer would have thought the petite thing was still a pup. "Indeed..." the she-wolf replied quietly then let her muzzle rest on the length of an outstretched leg. "Though not all can make a meal of the little ones as us big ones..." she countered softly with just the faintest hint of mirth in her voice.

Fox puffed up at the stranger's comment, a look of frustration immediately surfacing to her young face. She had a temper about the size of a pea, and this was one princess who could feel it under even a thousand mattresses. "You tryin’ to pick a fight, big girl?" she growled, teeth glinting in the light. While Fox did not believe she could win a fight, she was always happy to pick one with whoever happened to be around. Considering her social interaction had been limited lately (due to traveling and the lack of abundant pack mates), she didn't care what kinds of conversations she was going to have.

"Because I’ll have you know I’m one hell of a badass," she added, sure that lying straight through her teeth was going to provoke the other female. Fox was far from a badass, but she did know how to flee the scene when she needed to. She simply couldn't stop herself from being a total asshole. It was some sort of ingrained trait in her blood.

In her time among short tempers and the wild will of the young, a valuable practiced had been learned by the wanderer. While patience was her forfeit, tolerance was how she breathed; inhaling the quips and eager taunts of those bearing ill, then exhaling a breath of calm. If not to soothe them, then herself.

Smiling softly, she female let her muzzle tilt to the side exposing a worn cheek to the bitter cold as it drifted quietly passed. "I would not dream of it..." her tongue flickered from its cage to roam the width of her nose. "What sense is there to have use both cross the river?" Her should twitched idly against the wind. "These days are short to bring them a close that much sooner..."

Well, that was boring. Not only did the loner not want to fight her (even a little spar?!), she didn't seem all that interesting. She went on talking about something or another that Fox didn't really understand. "Uh, what?" she asked, her expression turning to that of offended confusion, "You speaking in riddles or something?" Because honestly, Fox couldn't make sense of it after, "I would not dream of it."

The small girl hadn't moved since she had approached the stranger, and she continued to stand her ground. The afternoon light felt good upon her back, and she had no intentions of getting comfortable with this potential loony-toon around. If this went on for another round of riddles, Fox would probably high-tail it out of here to find something more interesting to do.

The youth's lackluster reply gave reason for the female to respect the eloquent tongue all the more; it offered something more than the confused reply. At least there was a parry of words even shortly, as there had been with the dark, scarred male.

Groaning softly as she shifted wearily to her belly, she raised her bi-colored eyes to look upon the young female again. Her fragile smile never waning. "I would not dream of starting a fight with you..." she began just as softly. "...because there is no reason to send to you to the afterlife when your life is barely lived."

Fox rolled her eyes and scoffed at the "threat." Usually with wolves who spoke all tongue-twisted like that had nothing to show for it. And honestly, the Creek girl wasn't worried in the least. If this fat butt had managed to skid her way all down the mountain, Fox didn't think she'd have a hard time outrunning the loner. Besides, what would be the point of killing a tiny thing like Fox? She'd be a bitch to kill in the first place, and then her whole new pack would be out for whatever wolf had murdered her. The risk just wasn't worth it.

Satisfied that this wolf was no threat to her, and disappointed that the loner wasn't taking her bait, Fox swished her tail in boredom. "So why aren’t you in a pack, anyway?" she asked. Probably some defect that made her unwanted by everybody. At least, that was Fox's opinion. But she tended to have unpopular opinions.

The goading of the female now somewhat lessened, the wanderer felt boldly inclined to return her large head to her paws. Shifting slightly that her side might feel the warmth of the sun, she looked contentedly to the young female. Her countenance that of a comfortable female.

"Because I am not worth the presence of entitled rulers," she replied softly without missing her mark to rebuttal. "...and the earth is more civil, more appreciative to the silence of wanderers." From her lying position, she craned her neck back slightly to gain a better look at her fox hued audience. Oddly enough, she found it amusing, as if she were entertaining a pup.

"And what of you?" her nose quivered an inquisitive dance. "You are not a wanderer of the earth, but a wolf of the pack. Why have you chosen?...or were you born into their ranks?"

just to clarify, fox's thoughts are not my own. she's just a total judgmental bitch. <__<
thanks for the thread!

Well, not only was this loner fat, she was also a complete idiot. Fox cackled when the stranger said that she was better than "entitled rulers." This girl had to be on some kind of power trip. "In case you weren’t aware, being a lone wolf is a pretty good recipe for death. I mean, if that’s what you’re into, cool… but you’re acting like you’re less likely to be dead out here." Considering it was winter, Fox didn't think it would be long before this retard was dead. She'd have to advise Lethe, too... it might get her brownie points with her leader if she was proactive about warning against the crazies. There seemed to be a lot of them around here.

"But that’s your own prerogative," she said, flicking her ear. She was bored of this conversation, and there were probably much more interesting things to be found around this lake. "You’re boring me, so I’m going to go find something more interesting," Fox said flatly before turning her back on the larger female and trotting off back toward Swiftcurrent Creek.

OOC: xD No worries at all!

Death was an inevitability that came to all in one form or another. The determinant being how one's actions dictated how quickly it came and in what manner. For the wanderer, she believed her time would come when it was due and had accepted the consequences when departing from the mountains. Days without food... longer still without water. Hard were the days under winters rule, but rather she die frigid under sheets of snow than in the care of those that ignored and despised her. She believed there was dignity in death in the wild, rather than withering away on a soft, warm bed.

A stubborn fool indeed.

At least she maintained some semblance of reason, deciding only to endure the indignities of a pack life should the need for sustenance become dire. Long had she teetered upon the thresh, yet to topple. Though she was not ignorant to Fate's way to coax a changing wind.

As the young female departed, the wanderer remained where she lay though shifted more so to her back to let the sun warm her belly. Brittle ribs indented the deflated rolls of creme fur, sinking inward toward the cage to brush against soft organs. She could feel the warmth of the sun filtering though as much as she could feel the grate of her ribs against her hide. Oh, she was withering. Each day without food was another day toward death; an added ingredient to further complete the ill-borne recipe. Her tongue rasped her lips as she craned her neck toward the lake, the thin ice beckoning her close with the taunting life that swam beneath its surface. Sighing softly, she rolled to her paws to stand then walked gingerly over to the water's edge.

Perhaps a fish would turn her odds a little away from death...