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It was like fire licking up the length of her legs, her muscles strained and tired, but the promise of the nearby lake kept her going. The wind blows against her coat, the cool breeze the only relief against her burning legs, and she wonders if she’s going make it the rest of the way. Slowly, she sits down, feeling a heavy weight lift from her paws like ice shooting through her veins. Emori can't remember the last time she rested, dragging her body from one place to the next. She doesn't even know where she's going, just trying to reach the next destination to keep her mind from vengence.
Emori still remembers the blood on her paws, the flames, the smoke suffocating her with ash and soot, filling her lungs until she could not breathe. It took weeks for her breathing to return to normal, to not wheeze, to not rattle with each breath, to go more than a few hours without coughing. She knows there's nothing she can do now, having escaped by the hair on her neck and not looking back.
Coward, coward, coward.
Her grey eyes close, tired and heavy, and she lowers all the way to the ground. The soil is damp, so close to the shore, but she can't pull her body up to take the last several yards. She rests there, tired, mind wavering in and out of her exhaustion until she's able to get enough energy to pick herself back up.
He felt as restless as the Lake that day, whose waters seemed recently more energized by the spring thaw. Chunks of ice and more bits of cold sunk into the depths as the temperature shifted to more suitable spring weather. He'd kept himself tucked away most of winter, save for short hunting spurts to keep himself in good health. Dagger made an excellent lone wolf because of the exceptional hunting skills he'd crafted over his four years of survival. Now at the edge of the changing seasons, and the birth of a new spring, he sat rather fat and happy in his solitude along the Lake's gaping mouth, lapping at the chilled water.
The Oathbone male was a seasoned traveler, and knew how to pace himself when trekking across the Wilds by now. He had lurked in the area a few seasons as a shadow and a whisper, successfully avoiding most other wolves. Until now. With the thaw, more scents were slowly revealed. As he lifted his great, shaggy head from past the banks, Dagger noticed a dark shape slumped in a heap of fur a bit closer than was comfortable. He'd been too preoccupied with refreshment until the wind shifted and alerted him to her presence in the distance.
After the initial glance of interest camouflaged her body piled close to the shore, he guessed she had been aiming for a drink at the Lake. A fat tongue squeegied lake water from his still dripping jaws, and strong teeth, slightly yellowed with maturity, clacked together in an attempt to alert the resting body to his approach. Coal nose worked hard at determining how sickly this wolf was, and caution was apparent in his stance as he halted daringly closer than he imagined he would. Tail was stiff and even with his body, ears forward and hackles lightly raised with the excitement of the situation.
Dagger mumbled a half hearted 'woof', not entirely sure if the creature could still hear, or if death had begun to claim her senses. Yellow-green eyes trained on her sides, and he watched the minute rise and fall. She seemed in bad shape. Breathing deep, Oathbone took a few cautious steps closer. You're nearly there, y'know.. He waited for a reaction of some sort. Curious, cautious, simply waiting. Tail moved slowly behind him. You going to give up now?
Quite sorry for the delay! I had a project I was working on that sorta took up my time for a few days. :)
The chuff is a distraction and Emori sighs with a little effort, like she can’t quite get a full breath and her chest tightens, constricting upward and to her throat. It reminds her of the fire, suffocating her under a heavy layer of dark smoke while the sun disappears. Her head shakes, ears flipping in irritation. She chokes out a raspy breath she worries may never return to normal but by the end she’s able to take in air without too much struggle.
Her eyes open slowly and she peers up at the other wolf, tawny, and much closer than she expects him to be. She flashes her teeth but it’s limp and she tucks it away when she remembers she’s in no position to poke beasts in the upperhand.
“I just needed to rest,” she wheezes tiredly.
Carefully, the dark wolf tries to stand. Her legs are shaky, but one at a time she rises, and she thinks she might have it. Emori pushes one front limb forward and anchors her weight. It’s sturdy, for now, but a stronger breeze might sweep her right off her feet.
“Where am I?”