Wolf RPG

The longer she stayed in Mereo, the more out of sync Fennec felt. The pack was happy and thriving in a way that made it seem as though she were simply watching from the sidelines. The longer she observed, the more the bitterness of everything she wanted and didn't have spiked further within. It felt like she was being slowly poisoned.

She was supportive of @Killdeer. She did not get to know the others. Any time she spent with @Towhee was brief and superficial.

When she finally managed to find a path, and learn it well enough, Fennec only felt slightly better for being able to leave momentarily. She wouldn't go too far this way, since his call had come from it, but the lake she'd found would have water plants that the canyon couldn't provide. It also had quiet.

Rather than immediately get to work, Fennec stood in the cool mud of the bank and let out a long breath. Without her son's presence here, she knew she wouldn't go back. Maybe that was her problem. When had home ever been a thing she'd known within herself, rather than a place someone else decided to settle? The Caldera had come close... before he ruined it.

Was she letting him to ruin this too? That was an annoying thought. One that she was way too fucking tired to unpack right this moment, but also one that she kept. It would probably come in handy one of these days.

The vulture which had watched over him had split in to three ravens, each going a separate direction. When he looked for them he saw them like motes of smoke on the fringes of his vision, never quite solid. When he'd forsaken the plains for the cover of trees, they became harder to find - but always, one would appear and it would lead him further.

Choose wisely, the shadow had told him.

Heksvarrim had been walking for what felt like an eternity. His paw-pads were cracked and bleeding. He'd caught himself on thorns, brambles, low branches - but he'd not stopped, and acted as if he did not feel the sting. When he finally stopped it was because the world became too fluid for him to continue; literally - there was a lake shimmering ahead of him.

No; not the lake itself — a figure, like the shadow. This one was made of sunlight. It seared in to his vision a silhouette of shining white rimmed in gold, and he could not pull his gaze away.

Fennec turned when she heard his awkward footsteps and her lip curled when she caught the taste of blood on the air. Whether he was injured or it was someone else's, neither necessarily put her at ease.

Not today. She growled out in warning. She didn't take any shit normally, but especially today, her fuse was low. If this stranger made a single wrong move she'd take his throat out.

Who it was didn't matter. What they wanted didn't matter. She had nothing for them.