broken clouds scatter the early morning horizon; painting the grove as skylla weaves through it in deep shadows and drab grays. the coming snow is felt upon the wind: that crisp, chill that always permeates it has the woodland critters all huddled inside their homes.
overheard, the soft scrabble of squirrel claws upon rough bark draw a lazy twitch of skylla's ear, but he does not investigate.
he continues on his path, towards the heart of the grove, all the while pondering if he should remain to wait out the snow.
he pauses at a small stream that cuts thru the forest and bows his head to lap at the cool water.
She was still a little rattled at her conversation with Bronco re: fighting, and kept her distance from him, and subsequently from the rest of the Emberwood. She would stay with them, sure, but only because she really had nowhere else to go.
God, she was lonely. She missed Vesper so much.
She passed through the semi-frozen swamp and ventured into the ferns, trying to nurse the heartsickness within her by taking stock of the little things. Except, fuck, everything was so ugly and dead in winter. There was nothing to look at, nothing to do—
Oh.
Ahead, a brawny male drank from the meandering stream, his blue eyes piercing the water like a lance. She came closer, giving him a chuff, and gawked a little as she waited for a response. He'd certainly do to look at. For now.
the chuff pulls skylla's attention away from the stream; ears roving atop his skull and gaze seeking and then settling upon the pale sylph. water drips from his chin for a moment, before his salmon pink tongue drawls across his jowls to collect last lingering droplets. she is young, he wagers, with a color of eyes that intrigues him. he thinks they are a shade of purple but from the distance between them they might've been dark blue.
hello.
skylla offers, shifting his body to face her in full.
Hi,
Blueberry responded faintly, and swallowed. She brought up her chin a hair, trying to look a little more self-assured than she felt. Um. . .you live around here? Or what's up?
This wasn't like the Emberwood. She had no claim here. She couldn't throw around her weight.
Not like she would.
God, what the fuck was she even doing in the first place?
I'm Blueberry,
she added, trying to be helpful but internally cringing at herself. She meandered closer to the water, suddenly thirsty. She dipped her muzzle down for a drink, sipping slowly, indigo eyes still trained on his handsome, rugged face.
her initial response was so faint that the wind almost entirely gobbled it up; but her following words bear more volume, skylla's ear flickering at her questions. he had expected them to be remotely similar but couldn't think of anything more different than 'do you live around here' and 'what's up'. the cairn is quiet for a moment longer, trying to decide which question to answer first.
for a moment, he considers asking her to clarify which question she wanted him to answer but decides that teasing her might not be, well, very gentlemanly.
sort of,
he replies vaguely. he considers mentioning arcana but remembers that fennec had wanted it to be rather, well secretive. was it okay for him to mention it? and uh, nothing's up, i guess.
it takes some effort but he manages to refrain from making a wiseass crack about 'the sky' or any other such things.
skylla.
he replies, offering his own name in return.
Wasn't much of a talker. Granted, neither was she, unless someone really got her going. The two of them lingered in silence for some time, her tongue gently lapping at the stream. She wondered if there were fish in here, and thought briefly to her lesson with that man by the coast, and how kind he'd been.
D'you fish?
Blueberry asked, cocking her head. That seemed as good a conversation starter as any. I know a little bit.
Was that Fennec's scent she caught faintly upon his pelt? She hadn't noticed him in the Emberwood before, but perhaps he was brand-spanking new to the pack. Her heart leapt slightly at the thought. Maybe he'd stick around, and she'd get a chance to better know him.