Whitefish River Someone Purer

Perhaps someone I have not had a thread with yet?

Finally, the air was cool and crisp on an early autumn morning as dew still clung to the tall blades of yellow grass along Whitefish River. Only a few creatures stirred at this hour, and Tuwawi, unaccustomed to Silvertip Mountain's topography, had only found an uncomfortable patch of earth to sleep on. Perhaps, eventually... she would have a warm den to go home too, but it was a luxury only a wolf within a pack could afford. Dark circles shadowed her half lidded eyes as she moved across the land in a weary dream state, not caring who or what she disturbed along the way. Sleeeppp... was the only thought on her mind, besides the sticky, dry feeling in her throat. Perhaps a drink of water would quench her morning thirst.

Creamy paws splashed clumsily into the chilled river as small minnows scattered to safety in the depths. Agitated frogs croaked noisily as ducks chattered amongst themselves. Perhaps they had never seen such a disheveled creature before. At least, no creature as noble as the wolf. Tuwawi lapped up the water greedily, feeling its effects almost immediately, but still craving a long sleep. She huffed, as she stared into the reflective water and waited for the ripples to subside. Her face appeared and Tuwawi couldn't help but frown, disappointed at what looked back.

My post ain't very long, sorry. They will get longer, I swear!

Gloom. It hung over her heard like a storm cloud. It was not the deep-seated sorrow he knew, but he could taste her discontent. For what reason, he could not fathom. He lethargically drew closer to her, but not too near. Close enough to let her know that she had an audience, nothing more. Upon closer inspection, he could see the beginnings of a scar on her face. It looked...new. More recent than his own facial imperfections. He wished to see more of it, but he did not push her, waiting in ruminative silence. All the while, the sun continued to stroke its morning light across the sky, it artistry lost to Vehiron in favor of this nameless, faceless woman.

Its okay :D Short posts are da domb

Clear water was the worst kind of friend. It always showed the truth and never lessened its impact. Her eyes look hollow, lost in themselves, and her masked face appeared thinner than usual. How could she forget the deep scar that rippled along her muzzle? Tuwawi's tongue rolled over the notch in her lip and remembered the sting of the cougar's claws. However, the water did not only show the physical — it also betrayed the mental and emotional.

She sneered, and bent down to take another gulp, causing her reflection to become obscured once more. From her peripheral, she noticed a black smear parting the reeds, ebbing into her space like the river on the shore. Tuwawi's head turned to face him; her usually sharp expression shrouded by drowsiness. Regardless, it was still indifferent — but forlorn.

He was a lean man and appeared to move with the care of a long-legged spider. All of his features seemed to disappear into his inky pelt, save for the ice white bib that ran along his underside. His vivid gaze was chilling, haunted like a wendigo's, but also introspective and equally interested. Tuwawi didn't know exactly how to greet this stranger, but his body language seemed casual, and it caused her ruddy ears to cup towards the man, inviting him closer.

currently sports a radio collar around her neck. 

I love your description of Vehiron. It's spot on. <3

The truth was no less glaring or hurtful the more one looked at it. Perhaps in time that pain would diminish. Perhaps that void known as truth becomes inundated with loved ones, with adversaries, with memories. But who could say for certainty, that that was a way to subsist? One could not live in the maybe, only in the now. Wolves were not free of this. No one was. Every living thing with a conscious suffered through it. Many let it run their lives. Would Tuwawi let it control her, or would she break free from this viscous cycle?            Once their eyes met, he could perceive this debilitation. Just not the full brunt of it. He could also see she was so very tired. Her lids drooped, and the cloak of fire she bore was lacking in vivacity. Even her discernments – usually lucent and expressive, in his mind's eye – were much grayer than usual. It was like staring at a retreating storm. He drew closer as she tiredly elicited him, stopping until he could see the fine hairs framing her face.            “You need sleep,” he quietly murmured. A simple observation, one that required solving. He turned away from her, wordlessly beckoning her with a flick of his tail. Come, came his soundless appeal, slipping through the reeds with all the grace of a serpent. He entered the compact forestry that cupped the watercourse, traveling a ways before stopping and locking eyes with her once again. He resigned in a patch of good-smelling herbs, gesturing the phoenix to come join him. “Lay your head to rest. I will keep watch.”