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+--- Thread: Whitebark Stream Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all. (/showthread.php?tid=41482)
Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all. - Artyom - May 17, 2020
Some time had passed since @Meadow had been welcomed into the fold, and Artyom had not seen much of her around. A sniff here and there, but he hadn't actually looked for her. So with Dawn happy to mind the cubs on her own, the gilded ranger set out in search of their newest recruit despite Winter's wailing protest.
Bright midday sunlight dappled through the branches above, but the air and earth felt cool in the shade. Still with some Winter pelage to shed, Artyom was grateful - for he was not built for Summer climates.
Though his nose worked for any suggestion of the she-wolf having passed through recently, his mind turned to missing comrades. It'd been a number of days since Surya departed in search of Aphrodite, and he hoped no harm had come to either of them.
RE: Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all. - Meadow - May 18, 2020
Shy, diminutive and uncertain—they were easy words to describe the silver sparrow as she loped gently along the length of the stream, her bright eyes inquisitively tracing the foliage and plants that were coming to life with the onset of spring.
She hadn’t seen much of @Aphrodite, and she noticed the woman’s scent had begun to fade from the lands. It was discerning, but Meadow, new to the ways of Whitebark Stream, wanted to simply hope for the best—that the kind woman was seeking out herbal supplies.
Which was what the lissome she-wolf was doing now. The sun above warmed her, though a certain coolness remained within the fresh spring air. Daylight cast upon her, alighting the copper mask of her face even mores as amber eyes kept careful watch as she continued her slow walk.
She had found little, thus far, but when the bright yellow patch of dandelions caught her eye, she gave a small smile, loping closer to inspect the weeds. Only when she began to paw at them, deciding she would dig some up for a herbal cache, did she glance up, catching the sight of an approaching Artyom—his thick, white fur a beacon.