The evening clouds, lined with the softness of a fading sun, drifted in uneven clusters across a backdrop of effulgent pastel purple. The sun would linger for only an hour or so longer, and in that time the darkness would dominate. It would be the prime moment for her travel, as she was taught. But it was a wonder to experience it still; the deepness of the sky, the silky texture of the clouds as they dragged apart with the effort of a blustering spring wind.
The child was poised within the scope of the pastureland, having sequestered herself among the exposed bedrock of a narrow cliff side, and watched with her chin upon her toes as the sky transitioned. She was well hidden; or as well hidden as she liked, believing in her own ample ability over the skills of outsiders. She would find what she sought here, and trusting in this, was unafraid of the new world within which she found herself.
Soon the darkness had descended. Her masked face raised from its perch, with bright eyes casting curious glances across the surrounding territory; and as she got to her paws, wordless as as always, Seregrýn caught sight of the first star in the blackness. She aligned herself with it, and began to march - strides long and steps quiet - in to the night.
He spent two days after his journey to the western mountain within the left the familiar embrace of the wood and the nearby boulder before leaving them and heading south. He searched now for something to further sate his curiosity about the wood. Fleet Rabbit had taken the edge off his solitude for a time and the beastly woman on the mount had returned to him his wish for solitude, but being a wolf and, therefore, a social creature, he couldn't stand to remain cooped up in the wood for long. He needed to stretch his legs and explore further, so without much fanfare or regret, Prophet went south.
By the fall of evening, the dusky sable wolf was deep into the grasslands. Snow still clung to the shadows of rocks here, but mostly it was absent, leaving only tough ground and fallen stalks of dead grass to litter it. As the sky deepened and the shadows lengthened, his posture became more relaxed with the knowledge that he blended in with his surroundings. He wasn't soundless—no creature but an owl truly was—but with the rolling and graceful gait of his species, he was quite quiet indeed.
Still, even with keen senses unadulterated by his own noise, Prophet had no idea there was another wolf marching somewhere nearby and likely wouldn't notice unless she made a noise or the wind changed direction.
This place was not so different from the wood groves of Trigeda to warrant any level of scrutiny, but Seregryn was curious of it. There was a rogue aspect to everything, from the trees and rocks to the very sky, with its whisps of cloud-cover. She did not study the sky as aptly as she should have, perhaps. It was dark, and as the darkness grew thick, Seregryn knew to travel swiftly — she had little care for the direction she headed, although took note of the melting snow. It seemed as if this place was warmer than the east. Perhaps it was only saltier? There was a subtle saltiness she thought she tasted, but it was very thin — and soon Sere was too busy with her sulking to care.
It was strange to be unbound by fate. To have nothing to tie her to any single place — it was different. She yearned for the companionship of her kin, or at the very least a soul from Trigeda. She had left her tutors behind in this venture, and the girl was equal parts disheartened by their absence and invigorated by it; a youth without supervision.
So her path was erratic as she drifted through the plains, growing sloppier as the night progressed. She was under the firm belief that her steps were secret things; well disguised, as her training suggested, but she was clumsy and loud — becoming a fool the longer she travelled and the less she slept. It was a wondrous thing that she had yet to be discovered now. Her enthusiasm kept her blind to the antics of her fellow wolf, who could easily slip by her in the night — and likely did, being more skilled than she.
The rustle of the grass seemed to be the only thing keeping Prophet company. He rolled along, his paws tapping out an endless rhythm without slowing or speeding up. Only when he glanced to his left did he spot against the darkening sky a dark figure moving along at a similar pace. He lifted his nose to gingerly sniff the air, but all Prophet could discern was that his companion was a wolf. The wind didn't aid him any in telling about more sensitive information.
Whether or not the other had smelled or spotted him, the black-phase wolf moved into a prowling pursuit. While ordinarily very conscious of his safety, Prophet laid aside his typical caution in favour of curiosity. If he was right in thinking he hadn't been spotted, he could potentially follow the other canid for miles, picking up hints of scent along the way. He was also a little playful in the way he stalked her, as though following her as long as possible was a game and he had a high score to beat.