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when to strike - Leatherface - September 07, 2014 forward dated after the pack howl
After their song had died down the new revelation came starkly to the sasquatch. A menagerie of new scents and the now thriving presence of a pack thriving in the wood fueled his anxious pacing into a furious jog. He could not settle down, the uncomfortable mold the change had settled within him spurred him onwards, as he raced around the length of the forest, again and again and again. He could not explain how such an exhausting task went about soothing him, only that the physical exertion he put forth was enough for now. He feared when he stopped moving and everything would break again, as it had for Northstar and Wheeling Gull. He didn’t stop when he began to pant, when the ragged breathing began to ravage his dry throat, when his paw slipped on a thorn and he left a light trail of blood in wake. He continued to trek on despite it all. But not once did he leave the woods. So comfortable he had become in his new home, he hadn’t appear to the Wilds outside of it since. Like the news of his packmates, steppping too far outside of the borders caused him a heavy weight of anxiety. He'd always dragged himself back into the shadows of Blackfeather, holed away from the Wilds and continuing to remain mostly anonymous to the new residents inside his home save for Meldresi. He knew now though that this would also change, and though he didn't openly reject it, he passionately shied away from the inevitable. Eventually, out of fatigue, he was forced to kill his jogging pace, and slumped into a tired uneasy walk around the border. |