Noctisardor Bypass Quiet and cold - that's the way I like it

@Božena - Thought this place offered enough shelter for them both :)

Cold. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles and head. It felt much like freezing to death, but he knew he would not die if he were to find shelter. Yes - he needed a cave. For a moment did he think of turning back, back to his saviour and only friend - but he had started this journey with a purpose. He felt that this was the land that had called his humble vessel - that here he could finally find peace. His toes were frozen and he could barely move - the snow coating his already pale appearance even paler. But hope was on the horizon - sweet relief was pumped through his veins as he reached a place nicely settled in between two mountains. He could feel that the wind had less power here as soon as he was far enough inside. Perhaps here he could rest his beaten body - safe his strength for when the cold was either gone or less threatening to his young mind.

The wisps in his mind guided him to a cave that was neither big nor small - perfect for a being like him. But, as soon as he set one paw on the rocky surface in the cave, a flash of white overtook his sight and he trembled. Backwards he walked away, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His poor sister... Her head he had left in the prison he had been kept in as some sort of wild animal - thrown around by beings as black as the deepest ocean. His mind did not dare enter the cave so similar and yet so different from that prison, and he started running. He wanted to get away from it and had thought he had left those times behind, but life was cruel in that way.

She made no effort to join one of these packs, despite the freeze. She had no love for the stagnant packs that littered this land, knowing how most unmoving packs felt about the Romany. Božena was old. She knew it. But that did little to quell her bias. She could live on her own, by herself, even with this freeze. The cave she hunkered in helped, the cold barely seeping into her bones here. Božena smacked her lips, nuzzling her nose under her tail, ready to go into a well deserved rest.

That was until she heard movement outside her cave. She scowled, tentatively rising out of her cave. The sight of a pale wolf annoyed the old woman, and she was quick to protest his presence. Geet out. I find zhis place forst,

As he was preparing for a sprint, something stopped him. A scent. It seemed the cold had affected his then frozen nose, but due to the higher temperatures here it had thawed. At least, it felt like that. His nostrils flared to take everything in - the pawprints, the scent that was heaviest around the cave that had triggered something inside of his ghostly vessel - slowly but surely the puzzle pieces fell together. He had invaded once again, but this time the only mission he carried with him was to survive.

A voice broke his train of thoughts and his ears drooped and draped over the back of his skeletal appearance. His big eyes blinked in both embarrassment and fear and he let out an apologetic whimper, tail neatly tucked between two slender hind legs. I did not mean to - I did not this time. A creature of old bones and darkness he had awoken from her slumber - invaded her space, but not willingly so. I want to survive - let me survive.

The boy did not defy her. Instead, the pale creature pressed into the ground, whimpering softly. As bitter as she was, she had a soft spot for the young, the broken. Božena broke immediately, sucking her teeth in admonishment at herself for so quickly allowing him in. The Romany witch nudged the boy, Eet's cold, nie? You can come een, I's guess, She moved aside to let him in her cave, but not without warning. Do not be toucheeng theengs not zhe ground, v poriadku?

He held his breath as he awaited judgment - much like he did with everything. He had never been one to protest - not that he could easily do that, but still. He rarely thought bad about another and usually gave himself the blame of things that were in his control. While not exactly a pushover, he would not be found complaining - not even in his head.


But the judgment he had expected did not come. Instead, the witch lowered and nudged him - a gesture so kind from a creature that looked the way she did was certainly something to behold and left him speechless (ha). When she offered that he could come in her cave, he whimpered again. He could not come in - his body refused. He lifted himself and slouched to the side of the mouth of the cave. There, he trampled the frozen ground with two slender forelimbs to try and make clear the outside is where he would stay. His left ear flicked up and down excitedly, encouraging the witch who spoke such difficult words to try and understand. His abnormally big eyes were glinting happily, as if he had not just recalled the most traumatizing experience of his short life.

She was too old to live alone, even though she did not want to simply stay stagnant for what remained of her life. No, for this winter, she needed support, a wolf or two to depend on. And this boy was it. She watched, her golden eye wobbling in her head as she tried to focus on his form. He didn't go inside the cave, instead opting to stay out here, his whimper confusing her. He wanted to stay outside?

You veel be free-zenk out here. Come een, His wide-eyed glances broke her bitterness. It was a kind of face she had seen over and over again in her travels; the broken, the downtrodden. I mean eet, nehovorí. Dis ved-der. Eet es not normal. You veel be free-zenk en two minutes. Wel adrey. Come een.

The cold he had felt when he was not safely in between the steady rock works of the Gods that many spoke of when referring to the wonders of the world was indeed not just normal winter harshness. All he had known his life was that winter came only with cold and slightly icy winds - not these screaming ones, that just seemed to beg for young or weak lives to take. Horrid were his thoughts as his mind got entangled with visions of even younger youth than himself in this cold, freezing or starving. Survive was what he had to do, but then; why did his unconscious not want him to enter the cave. He almost knew for certain it was not a trap. I have to. I have to survive for Her.

His left ear was placed on the back of his head again as he let his hind slip and bump the ground with a soft thud. He let out a sigh, the happiness that seemed engraved in his aura slowly becoming less apparent. It was rude to turn down her generous offer of sharing her shelter with him - he was already planning on doing something in return just for it. He was not sure if he deserved this level of kindness - all he was, was an intruder and a bad one at that. His gaze returned to the mix of browns and the eyes so different they could have a mind of their own.

Then, he nodded. A small gesture, given his usual expressive nature, but noticeable nonetheless. He lifted his slender form, keeping a submissive posture as he gently weaved his thin body inside. It seemed bigger than it had looked - bigger than the dungeons. It was warmer here too. His golden ringed eyes trailed over every detail, but he could not find anything that reminded him of the dungeons. This was a different cave. Yes, here; they would not hurt him or his friends. Is the old woman a friend now? Or a companion for the winter? Both? If only he could ask these questions. He wanted to thank her, but did not know how; he had not been a mute for very long; 3 months, he guessed, but he had lost track of time.

In her whole life, long as it was, she had never been this far north. The tribe, her family, had moved constantly through the years, but never farther north than the Dotharan Plains. She knew that the further north one goes, the cooler it was year round, and the harsher the winters. But despite this knowledge, she knew that this weather was completely and utterly unnatural.

It's intensity frightened her, especially now that she was alone in every aspect of the word. Her isolation was complete, bearing all the way down into her soul; her soulmate had long since departed. Božena had accepted her fate, knowing that she would spend the rest of her life, however long that may be, with the spirits that had guided her her whole life. But this boy's presence came as an unexpected, but not rejected, surprise.

She followed in after the boy, already feeling the warmth of the cave increase tenfold. He still said nothing, which led the Chovahani​ to believe that he was mute in one form or the other. Still, she had to ask. You've got name? Zhey's call me Božena,

Born and bred in the North; not even he thought the weather was normal. He had not seen many winters, but it did not take a fool to notice the intense cold. He was so glad he had found the witch, for he knew he was not the greatest company without his tongue. He did not even know how to speak anymore, which was a strange, tingling feeling. He was afraid of losing his ability to understand languages, but deep inside he knew that that would not happen as long as he surrounded himself with many. For now, it was just the witch and him, but seeing that she talked so much already; he was not afraid.

He wondered; could they stay here together? Forever? He did not want to leave her here, nor did he want her to leave him, but he did not know how long the winter would last for. For the others, he hoped it would not take too long - but for him? Well, he was keen on keeping his first friend in these strange lands. A gentle smile crept onto his young face and he looked at the witch with a new fire behind his doe-eyes.

At her question, he shook his head. "Calloon" had once been his name, but in these lands he was no one. She could call him whatever she wanted, it was not like he could protest. He bowed before her with closed eyes and a slight wag to his tail, trying to show that it was nice to meet her.

He said nothing, which made the witch squint in contemplation for a moment. She yawned, her breath coloring the air for a moment as she thought to herself. She hadn't met many mutes before in her lifetime. They had none in her tribe, but the other witches she had met had one assistant or another who was mute. Something about not revealing secrets.

She was more isolated than the other chovahani and chovahano, on account of her Seer's eye, the golden one that hung low instead of staring straight ahead. The boy, so far, made no mention of that. Instead, he greeted her with joy, her very presence a blessing. It had been a while since someone looked past the wavering, wandering eye. She smiled, crookedly but sincerely. Zen you are mute, jo? She asked politely. Born wit it?

Perhaps it was a good thing that there were not many mutes. Calloon fought for righteousness and freedom -survival, most of all-, and only the ones with traumatic experiences, disabilities or a birth-defect were mute. Calloon didn't wish this curse upon anyone and was not keen on meeting someone else with this same daily-struggle. He had already - once, and it just felt awkward. Of course he had wanted to take her in for a hug, whisper that it was going to be alright, but he could do no such thing. He was afraid that he would never sire any children, for he could not teach them (or his mate, for that matter) much without a deep connection - a connection that took more time than most were willing to put into another being. But Calloon was open for silent love. He would do whatever it would take to make his future soul-mate the happiest (fe)male of the world.

But whether with love or companionship - there was one thing that was never important to the golden ghost; looks. He did not care about the other having ugly scars - scruffy mane - an ugly face. Not even the wobbling, yellow eye of his friend bothered him. Only if it pained her would he care and try to fix it, but for now, Božena was just perfect. Her accent, while sometimes hard to understand, was something beautiful too. It showed where she was from (although he did not know where someone would speak this way) and it was a nice change of pace.

She questioned his stillness and Calloon smiled. How wonderful - someone cares. Someone tries. Someone is my friend. He nodded, though another question was fired at him. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out the best way to explain after shaking his head. no, I was not. Luckily I was not - lucky, lucky me. He opened his mouth, revealing his poor excuse of a tongue with a sound that resembled laughing from back in his throat. So awkward - much awkward. I want to explain - I want to clear things up for her.

She waited, patiently, for an answer. She had all the time in the world for one, though the cold made her more than a bit impatient. Her body shifted as she tried to keep the blood flowing into her already stiff limbs, though the mute's presence made her still, his body heat flooding the den. 

After a brief while he shook his head. The answer made the Chovahani​ stiffen. She slowly realized the truth, the revelation culminating as she saw the scarred and mutilated tongue in his mouth as he laughter, silently. Hold mouth open, She commanded, ignoring whether he complied or not and peering into his maw. She sucked her teeth at the sight of the waggling stub. Does eet hurt much? She asked, pulling her head away. I don't hev herbs to help now. But vhen spring comes I vill find poppy seeds for you, drahá.

Even with both of their warm bodies in a mostly wind-free cave, he could spot that his friend was indeed cold. He himself was not comfortable in this cold either, but it was not so bad that it would make him act like the witch. After their examination - their one-sided conversation, he planned on keeping her warm in the coming night. Wrap his slender form around hers, almost as a mother or a lover, and finally not dream on his own. It was a strangely exciting thought, and he looked forward to it. His mother had only kept him warm and snuggled up in his first few months - after, he was a mere soldier. She did not care about her children, just like father, only about her position. What a shame, mother - what a shame.

She commanded him to keep his mouth open as she stuck her nosy snout almost in it to see his stump - causing more laughter to spill from his throat. How strange! Of course, the witch did not know that it had happened moons ago, and that the wound had been treated by an excellent healer. Finally she pulled away, and he could close her dry mouth with a smile. At her question, he shook his head again. Pain is no problem - not physical. I am strong, I am stronger than before.

At the strange word she used, his ears flicked attentively. It was almost like asking what it meant - no words used. He found the offer to be kind, and would hate to turn it away, and so he did not react much to that. He was much more interested in her language - what she called him just then.

It did not hurt; on a second brief inspection she realized how well healed it was. It must have been gone for such a long time to have been so well healed. She wondered who administered the poultice to help him; it was delicate work.

He looked at her strangely, to which she stared at him questioningly for a moment before understanding. Drahá, She repeated at his curious expression. Means dear, She murmured gently.

Jewels had been trained by the Monos who were known for being some of the best in the North (at least to Calloon's knowledge) so it was not a miracle that the wound had healed so nicely. Of course, his tongue would never grow back, but he was glad it had not pained him as much as it could have. Calloon found luck in the most random of places, it seemed, but never where he wanted to find it.

Silent lay upon them as a blanket for a while before the witch understood, which the ghost didn't mind. When she did, Calloon was elated with it. A dear, a dear - I am a doe-eyed dear!  He smiled at her after he made a face of "aaaah - so that's what it means!" and wanted to nuzzle and hug her for explaining. What an interesting language she had!

She's glad he is happy, the pure unadulterated joy that spread onto his face bringing back warm, fuzzy feelings that her bitter heart rarely felt. She snorts in laughter, a crooked smile jittering her wobbly eye. After a yawn, the woman slowly settled herself into the ground, feeling every bone of her body creaking with each movement. She grunts as she finally settles. Come an' lay down, drahá, She pats the ground near her with a paw, yawning again.

Her laughter was pure and overpowered her weird, old appearance. She was good, he could feel, and was probably not accustomed to his kindness. While not many dared to admitted, many judged on appearance; something he tried his hardest to never do. The other settled and Calloon did not wait to join her - together, they would beat the cold of night. He purred softly, gently laying his own, nimble form around hers to keep her warm. As soon as their bodies touched, he could feel both his soul and body grow warmer.

Ending here

As soon as the boy settled beside her, she laid her head across his flank. Despite their recent introduction to each other, she was born and raised by Roma, where family mattered more than anything, and the touch of another could mean life or death. She snorted, released one last breath of stale air before her mismatched eyes closed, quickly beginning to snore.