the charred towers intrigued her, and as soon as aeglaeca discerned them on the horizon, she pushed forward to meet them. there was a story here, a lesson from an angry goddess, the she-wolf was sure. as she true near, it was obvious that the area would never again see great sequoias again— at least, not for generations upon generations. there was a gravity here. she felt the weight of it.
but there was also a gift, as she set eyes upon a pale she-wolf. finally— the wilds were not so cursed, after all.
grief lingers here,
she acknowledged quietly, perhaps sensing melancholia in the other's posture, but there is also hope. look—
aeglaeca turned her gaze further inland, where a young sequoia had begun to reclaim a place amongst its fallen ancestors. the ash had long-since composted, and groundcover was also beginning to awaken at the bases of the dead sentinels.
The dove was surprised to spot another figure weaving amongst the pillars of charred ebony but her gaze was nonetheless welcoming as it met the rusted she-wolf's -- thinking the two-toned hues of jade and citrus were quite lovely. Her own gaze of opaque jade drifted after the woman's gesture, interest piquing visibly as she observed the sapling in the distance. Wandering closer on curious footfalls, she sniffed at the black mulch of the soil.
"Do you think the fire makes the soil better? Or the trees stronger?" she speculated in a soft, musing tone, turning towards the other -- if she had followed and heard that was.