Wolf RPG

But she was tired, and cold, a loner's banner to complement an unrelenting pride. Were it not for the silence, the way of the cursed world, she might have found her bed in the warmth of a hollowed tree. Or perhaps alongside the warm bodies of others unknown. The only aspect of the mountain she missed; however distant the community, however cold their gaze, there was always warmth to be found in fur and flesh.

Yet there was only air now. Each sigh of the winds made it all the more colder, biting through matted fur and worn flesh to bone. The ache nigh unbearable, yet still she carried on; a spectre along the lake. Beneath heavy paw, the ice sang of her presence, creaking softly at first til she dared tread further out. Only when their octaves reached a splitting tune did she back away from darker ledges til their songs became whispers again. Her ears danced to the tune til another chord join, bidding she still for a moment in search of its origin. Surely another was not awake at this hour, though amber and umber betrayed her as they fell upon the visage of living dark. Unearthed coal within the pristine folds calling forth the attention of all that lingering awake in the late hour. She gave it no word, only the silent regard to its passing across the white til it paused... until he paused by the lake to look beyond its crystal form.

She woofed softly.

A moment longer standing idle there in wait and she might have slipped from the waking world to dream with ease. Had it not been for his scent, his audible regard to bring her forward, she might have believed she'd fallen asleep so sudden. Fatigue cast strange spells on the mind at its peek, and she was due for an impossible vision of her own.

Caution remained absent in her stride as she neared, though her eye would turn toward the ice on occasion. Each crack was a pressure line. Each creak, a word of warning for the bold. She was mindful of it, but did not fear its grip, especially when the song ceased and she was near the nightly spector at last. She offered her greeting by a gentle sway of her tail, freeing frost that clung to fall away into the awaiting embrace of its likeness.

"The cold," her voice peaked at a whisper. "...does it keep you from dreaming?" Her gaze rested on his muzzle, though peeked with care to the pit of his eye.

Undoubtedly she was bold, but no more than a tree would stand tall against the coming storm. It knew of its disadvantage; a fixed thing that had grown in the land it was planted. It knew that in time it would bent, wither, and fall away to become one with the earth. It was it was fragile against the elements, shedding tired leaves in the summer til its balded in the winter. It knew that though it stood tall and braced against a violent storm, its risk of bending was no greater than any other being that walked upon the earth. A calm acceptance that gave to her humility.

She dipped her head in such humble grace before him, not in bow but in courtesy; it was she that imposed upon his quiet moment. The withered tree that stood in the path of the storm.

"Would you remain awake then," she continued as softly as she began. "And offer me your warmth, that I may live through a dream?" It was strange, yes, to present this request to a stranger so openly, but she offered no hesitation. Only a whispered call of need. The dangers of the unknown were not forgotten, but ignored. Lest she find her end by another's fangs or the snap of winter or of withering to age, she would pass into the next life when her time was ready. Though if it would be by a stranger, drawn under the beautiful illusion of safety, as least she would depart the world in warmth. How much kinder that would have been, than dying beneath the snow.

The scarred shallows were treacherous, whispering death upon the foolish should they not respect the apparent danger posed. It was the eye that uttered this threat in muted tones. The void of what had once been a seeing thing, conveying so soundly the threat the host of the vacant eye possessed. No creature bore a scar that was not without reason. The more horrid the brand, the more of a threat the living posed. For whom would seek to cripple another if not in the hopes of lessening their aura of danger?

She walked toward him carefully, lightly, drawing nearer to the rippling shadows to the origin of their creation, brandished by an onyx side. The shadows themselves would part in beckon, inviting the lone wanderer to find solace in their warmth. Their frayed wisps curled by a cool night wind pulling first the female by sight, then by the anticipation of a shared heat found within the shadowy abyss.

Inch by careful inch she lowered herself to the ground within the shadow of her stranger, then crawled forward with head low til snow dusted ears pat the scars of his pasterns and she was embraced. The warmth was intoxicating, a drug for the senses. A sample was not enough as she drew herself closer pressing creme flank against his belly then let her head rest comfortably on the tops of his well-weathered paws. And she was silent save for the soft growl of gratitude.

Peace became her as she slipped within the obsidian curls of warmth. The rhythmic pulse felt through the fur of her flank offered a lullaby of sorts to bring her further into the sweet realm of ease. The beat of a heart, a comfort she had lost since her depart from her mountain. Above the warmth, it was that which she cherished, reminding her with each gentle beat beneath colored fur that life surrounded her, though it may have despised her. It reminded her fondly of her littermates left behind, yet at the same instance pained her as she recalled the betrayal of her sire that forced them apart. A heartbeat became the key to a memory, proof that upon time, and at present she existed. Her existence felt through the life of another.

"To whom do I thank?" she whispered through a sigh as she shifted beneath him to lie on her side. Her voice was a wisp, a chord strung by a still waking state. Audible though barely as though its form was not more than a figment, present as the wind as it coursed that vast land, then drifted to naught just as softly as it began. And with her eyes partially lidded, she would have thought she had already fallen into dream, and her words were nothing more than a creation of that realm.

OOC: Very nice intro for these two :D Thank you!

There was a lapse between spoken word and reply that led the heavy mind to conclude that it was withing a dream. Coarse words were like an echo without a certain origin. Rolling over again into themselves to make a sound, joined by the warmth that flowed and surrounded her. The cold was a fading thing. Even the gusts of winter's wind was a thought once had then lost in the embrace of familiar heat.

She sought no reason to awaken her mind and the feel the cold, all for the sake of impressing the question further. Too true, she could thank this soul once her mind and body were rested, and the had the precious moment to live a life composed of dream. By lead the heartbeat, she drifted from the world and walked in longing with eyes closed to the realm beyond...

[Sleeping]