Wolf RPG

Druid still avoided her family. She wished to depart for Sapphique to check in with Erzulie, though she didn’t feel well enough to travel. She still couldn’t speak and she was becoming concerned that the bite on her heel might be infected. She might not have any choice but to seek out Mahler eventually.

She hobbled slowly through Silencepine, thinking of Heda and worrying about Mireille. Suddenly, she wanted to see Witch more than anything. Druid stopped and clenched her jaw, trying to remain strong. Her sister had such a bright, optimistic worldview. She could not tarnish it by telling her the truth: that sometimes, nightmares manifested in the waking world.

Hope was not a creature of habit. She went where the wind took her, wherever the spirits of the universe told her to go, she would go. She had been napping in the cold, her ears suddenly twitching upward. A golden glow formed in front of her and she knew to follow it. She rose, slowly, and slowly began following the call. She wandered for a long time, following the small golden light and her old legs grew tired, but she kept following the light.

And just as soon as the golden light had appeared, it vanished. She didn't feel surprised, instead she sat down. Waiting. Her patience was rewarded, how long she had been waiting was unknown to her, but a female appeared, limping. 

This was what the universe had wanted of her. "Hello." The elderly female offered the other a warm smile. "I was waiting for you." She rose, again slowly, and came toward her and without asking for permission she looked and inspected the limping leg.

"Can I?" Like a rude grandmother asking for permission to touch a pregnant belly, she didn't wait for the response before sticking her face toward the leg. Hope was not born rude, but she knew she had been brought here to help this individual, and while Druid might not like this - oddness, Hope had no intention of stopping her inspections.

"How long has it been like this?" She lifted her head back up, away from the injured leg. It looked old, too old. Hope was not the best healer of the pack, but she was knowledgeable enough to guide her, and dress up a wound and clear the infection. That was within her abilities and she would help her - They had met for a reason after all.

The feeling passed and Druid resumed her slow shuffle, frosted needles whispering underfoot. She came around a particularly dense clump of pines to find a stranger seated in her path. She immediately halted, blinking at the elderly she-wolf, eyes roving over her striking markings.

“Hello, I was waiting for you,” the old woman said, which made Druid’s features scrunch a little. Who was this lady? Was she new, like Ålesund? And what did she mean by that? It made the youth’s hackles prickle.

She remained rooted to the spot until the stranger moved closer to her, as if to touch, asking, “Can I?” Druid flinched away from her, shaking her head and saying, No. Please don’t touch me. Her voice was little more than a croak, quieter than a whisper.

Perhaps undeterred by Druid’s aloofness, the woman asked her about the wound. She bit her lip, deliberating what to say, not that she could speak much. Letting her take a look was probably a good idea, better than bothering Mahler or letting Ålesund touch her.

It happened about a week ago, Druid murmured, voice scratchy. I was running and tripped, she added, a half-truth.