Wolf RPG

Warm light bathed her face, prompting Wildfire to rise from sleep and slowly open her eyes. She squinted them immediately, turning a cheek to the glare and waiting for them to adjust before slowly gazing at the eastern horizon. The sunrise looked quite impressive from here, yet the dawn of a new day—even a pleasantly springy one—did little to make her feel better as reality struck like a baseball bat to the forehead. Waking up was becoming a special sort of torture.

Unfolding from her sleeping position, the she-wolf slowly pushed herself to her feet, blinking eyes sticky from sleep. She peered across the field even as her stomach rumbled loudly. She didn't actually feel hungry, yet she knew she should eat something. Besides, hunting would be a good distraction. And if she didn't do it for herself, nobody else would; she didn't have a pack to back her up now. That knowledge hit her nearly as hard, a dull but painful blow that knocked the wind out of her.

Taking it one step at a time (literally and figuratively), Wildfire began to lope across the plain, keeping her eyes, ears and nose peeled for any sign of game.

Magpie's mind was a swirl of hormonal emotion, insecurities, frustration, and blind confidence. It seemed that the Wilds brought out the worst in her, for the Corvidae exuded confidence and positivity when amongst the clan she had been born to. Perhaps that was it; life here was far more rigid than she was used to, and she did not know what they were or what it meant to be in a pack that did not expect (or embrace) the comings and goings of their members. Not to mention that each seemed to have their own rules, so ingrained and natural to them that they blamed their failure to teach on those they would invite inside their borders. Or so she thought.

Complicating matters, the dark woman wanted to belong and desperately wanted to succeed. But there seemed to be no place here for a free-spirit such as herself; and though she was determined to make such a place, Magpie did not yet have the confidence to pursue it directly. For now, she knew serving Thuringwethil was her best option-- particularly if she could claw her way up the ranks to stand beside the Heda, but patience was not one of her virtues. If things took too long or got too boring, the Corvidae would usually move on to something different; something that might hold her attention a little longer.

She awoke at midnight, her mood dark and foul-- feeling as if some hellish creature had gotten beneath her skin, possessing her and causing her to feel wholly alien. And, knowing that seeking another pack would not end well for her, but knowing new scenery was typically the best way to perk herself up, Magpie descended down the craggy slopes of Drageda and made her way beyond the borders.

She was not one to keep track of time, or where in particular she was going; and so her green eyes blinked in surprise when it finally registered that the sun was rising. Magpie paused, then, to sit and enjoy it as she surveyed her surroundings-- not that a flat plain was much to look at, but the views in the distance were breathtaking. Although her feelings remained unresolved, lurking beneath the surface of her heart, for the moment she was at peace.

There were holes hidden in the grass, Wildfire found, and she stopped beside one to sniff. Rabbits, she observed dully, reminded of the warren back at Redhawk Caldera. Her tongue poked out of her mouth, running slowly and thoughtfully along her lower lip, as she scanned the nearby ground for more. She didn't see any others in the immediate area, though there must be other exits around here. She pictured a widespread labyrinth underground, teeming with rabbits, and she licked her lips again, more rapidly now.

Before she could think of a strategy, a flickering movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Wildfire looked up and squinted against the glare, eyes making out the shape of a wolf so far away that she could barely make out any details. Yet she did take notice of the figure's coloration: black and white. A sharp breath left her and she squinted even harder. It was too hard to tell, between the distance and the supersaturated sunlight, yet Wildfire was pretty sure...

"Magpie?" she called across the sunlit plain.

Sunlight danced over the landscape, painting the earth below in rich, warm color. Orange, magenta, and purple blossomed into the sky like blood in water. Light ran like streams between the peaks of the distant mountains; mountains so far northeast that Magpie thought she would never see them up close, not even if she ran her entire lifetime. That made her heart ache, inexplicably. To never know something so beautiful in the flesh— it summoned forth a poignant sadness in her chest, though she was glad to have the chance of appreciating them from afar.

Those mountains were what she was giving up— might give up?— in abandoning the nomadic life of the Corvidae. It was true they had remained close to the Wilds throughout her entire lifetime; but Magpie had a feeling that she would never see them again. That her last goodbye was, well, the last goodbye. And while she wasn't particularly close to any of them, her last remaining blood ties lived here in the Wilds. Family was the most important bond, and the dark woman could not imagine exiling herself from her blood entirely. Not even for the eighth wonder of the world.

"Magpie?"

For a brief moment, so lost within herself and within the sunrise, she thought it was the universe calling to her. Instead, with a turn of her head, she was greeted by the distant approach of her (favorite) niece. With a grin, Magpie rose to her feet and began to close the gap between them. "Hey, lady," she called back in greeting, relieved at the distraction. It made it easier to ignore the emotions that threatened to overtake her; to focus on pure conversation, on someone else.

She began to trot toward the distant silhouette, more and more sure with every step that she was, in fact, looking at her young aunt. When Magpie turned, Wildfire could make out her familiar features and her large red ears drank in the familiar sound of her voice. A tentative smile played across her lips as she closed the distance between them, her shadow stretching out in front of her, impossibly long and lean.

"Ironic," was Wildfire's first word when she braked to a stop in front of her relative, stretching out her smudged snout to bump it against Magpie's shoulder. "I was just hunting rabbits. Is that what brought you here too?" she guessed. She looked down at the ground, scanning for any sign of rabbit holes on this part of the prairie, then glanced up at Magpie again, wondering if she would ask what Wildfire was doing all the way up here at what felt like the edge of the world.

She rested her head upon Wildfire's shoulders in a brief, wolfish embrace before pulling apart to properly speak with the younger female. "I came here for the..." Magpie trailed, considering her words, before deciding on, "space." For the plains truly seemed to stretch infinitely around them, and there seemed to be no other creature in sight; no wolves, no ungulates, nothing. It was an odd comfort to such an extroverted creature, to find peace in solitude when she craved the attentions and companionship of others.

"This is a long way to come for rabbits," she noted, realizing that Wildfire must have been traveling for days already to reach this place from Moonspear. "Is there a special breed out here that tastes better than a big, fat, juicy elk or something?" Magpie asked, then, half joking with the intention of getting to the root of her niece's presence, but also partly serious because... well, she was sort of the Wilds' resident rabbit aficionado.

As the word space left Magpie's lips, Wildfire caught herself looking around again. The gently rolling grassland was quite expansive, so there was plenty of that (space) around here. Her amber eyes eventually drifted back to her aunt, feeling a strange rush of affection. It was good to see a familiar, friendly face all the way out here, especially after everything she had been through lately.

Wildfire's lips twitched at Magpie's joke, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. She didn't want to relive the pain of her reality by relaying it to her relative, yet at the same time the idea of unloading on someone—someone she trusted—was sort of cathartic. The yearling stood there a little awkwardly for a prolonged moment, deliberating, before shooting the other she-wolf an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, I'm actually up here this way because... I recently parted ways with Moonspear." Her insides clenched as she spoke the name of her former pack, all her twisted emotions roiling through her like a wave before receding slightly. "I'm a whistling gypsy rover now," she quipped without much mirth.

She noted the lack of light in Wildfire's eyes as the fiery young woman smiled, and her heart clenched— her niece had always been vivacious and to see even a hint of sadness made the Corvidae want to revert to the game they would play when Wildfire had been young. Somehow, though, she knew her niece would not appreciate being tickled. Instead, she waited patiently for the Redhawk to speak and listened intently.

"Ah," she said with a sympathetic smirk, "The life of a traveler isn't so bad. New scenery, new scents, new wolves." Magpie shrugged, not quite picking up on the subtle bitterness in Wildfire's statement.

Whether or not Magpie sensed the gravity and heartache behind Wildfire's words, she didn't comment on it. The yearling was quite grateful, especially when her aunt imparted a sense of optimism on the whole scenario. The youthful traveler bobbed her head, clinging to these very ideals during her rougher hours. She tended to have the hardest time on mornings just like this one.

"And, luckily, I've really made something of myself when it comes to small game hunting. Makes this whole situation a lot less dire." Her lips twitched into a smile. "Breakfast?" Wildfire added, tipping her head toward the sun-splashed plain. "There's gotta be rabbits around here somewhere, right?" Her amber eyes rested on Magpie, waiting for the expert to take point.

"To tell you the truth," she said with a shrug, "I prefer life this way. It's... uncomplicated. I prefer to be my own boss." Magpie offered her niece a crooked grin, but light similarly did not reach her eyes. The tumultuous emotions that had caused her to flee Drageda were threatening to bubble back to the forefront of her mind. They were kindred spirits in their repression. She shook her head, and the positivity in her manner swiftly return.

"Yes," she agreed. "Let's eat. There's rabbits everywhere; they're constantly boinking. Just have to sniff them out." Her green eyes were already scanning the Cuesta for signs of a warren.

The yearling's lips twitched into a faint smile at Magpie's use of the term boinking, the nodded and followed her aunt's gaze as she scanned the grassland. "I found several holes," she shared, shifting her weight and pointing with her blackened snout, "that way." She gestured in the direction where she had been standing when she had spotted Magpie. She paused to exchange a quick glance with her hunting partner, then began gliding that way.

Movement in the grass caused Wildfire to hasten her step, then quickly leap into action when she realized it was a young hare bumbling about, nibbling on the fresh spring shoots. It quickly noticed her and began scrambling toward safety, yet the trapper swooped in with deadly speed and accuracy. Her left forepaw came down on the rabbit's back, pinning it to the earth, and her fangs followed within seconds, closing tightly around the back of her prey's neck.

When she lifted it a moment later, the twitching body hung limp from her jaws, blood dripping down to stain its pale underside. She smiled around the kill as she swung to face Magpie again, loping over to drop the warm carcass at her feet as she said, "I learned from the best. You take what you want and I'll grab whatever's left over." She rolled back into her haunches, thrilled to break bread with the very wolf who had introduced her to the fine art of slaying rabbits, way back in the day.

Wildfire seemed to have a handle on the situation, and so Magpie only stood by as an observer and coach— but the yearling's form had improved greatly since the last time they had hunted together, and she found nothing to correct. She merely grinned as the fiery youth loped toward her with the rabbit hanging loosely from her jaws, then nudged her shoulder affectionately with her snout. A celebratory, wolfish fist-bump.

She saw no reason to insult her niece by refusing her offering, and so tore off a few mouthfuls before nudging the corpse back toward its killer. With full bellies, they would go their separate ways— though not before Magpie casually mentioned her current whereabouts.