Wapun Meadow If I can see you filling with me

@Lucy

The call of the evening lured him out passed the valley’s walls, abandoning the safety of his home for the temptation of the night. It was cold, and even colder with the wind blowing, which he discovered only moments after venturing out into the open. A chill ran down his spine, bringing forth a violent shiver; he shook it off immediately after, the initial shock of the frigid temperatures ignored. He trusted his coat to protect him from the harshness of the world around him—something that he wouldn’t regret, the progression of his slow-paced travels warming him.

Alexander didn’t go far beyond his home, slowing down after crossing the barrier that was the meadow’s treeline; he hadn’t been here for quite some time now, leaving plenty of room for curiosity to not only be planted but grow into something that had no visible end. He wanted to see how the meadow was faring through the winter, as well as if the herd that once frequented it continued to do so even now. Thus, he proceeded further into the territory, stopping to sniff every once in awhile, searching through the snow for a particular scent.

Run.

Though the frightful little wisp had spent her entire life running, she could think of nothing better once she had left Nevouku at the borders of the caldera. The grey woman who had greeted them was not what she would have expected – never what she would have imagined to have met her on the edges of their pack. Her mother, and yet Lucy did not know her in the slightest. Fearfully, she had fled into the wood and had drifted as far away from the scent of the Redhawk wolves as she could. In this, she had also left Skwol behind. All of these combined had crippled the youthful girl. She was alone and she was filled to the brim with terror.

She was still panting by the time she made it to the meadow. The ghoul's sides heaved with each strangled breath and her salmon tongue hung from her gaped mouth. Try as she might, Lucy could not run any further. It only took her a moment before she saw the white figure ahead of her. Her heart jumped, hoping that it was Skwol. With a few stumbling steps, she approached him with a familiar chuff.

It was not the herd that ended up catching his attention, nor anything else that he’d found. Rather, it was something that had found him—or rather, someone, he quickly came to realise. The sound of approaching steps earned little more than a flick of his ear, though the chuff that came soon after received so much more: his undivided attention. A gleam of curiosity shone in his eyes when he turned to face the girl, her greeting suggesting that he knew her, but the face that greeted him wasn’t the least bit familiar. He stared at her, examining every inch of her features whilst he sought something that might stand out to him, only to come up empty. Never in his life had he seen her—she was a total stranger to him.

But despite the mix-up he was not angry at her—a bit annoyed that he’d been compared with and found similar to another wolf, but not angry. “Who are you?” he asked. He humoured the possibility that he actually did know her and was just having a memory malfunction, but knew that her answer would reveal the truth to him; for those he met only in passing, or the ones that didn’t make much of an impression, their names were always easier to remember than their faces.

It was too late by the time she realized that she did not know this wolf. Her eyes widened, but her sides still heaved with each labored breath that fell from her lips. Still, the pale creature turned to face her and she stopped dead in her tracks in an attempt to figure her next steps. His tone had held a hint of annoyance, and the ghoul did not want to risk any anger that might come from that. Instead, she lowered her skull toward the earth and tucked her tail tightly to her rear. Perhaps he would let her go; surely, he would not want to cause her harm.

Tongue still lolling from her mouth, Lucy cast her eyes away from the male and breathed deeply. “I-I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she muttered softly. Her gentle voice felt strangled in her throat, and the girl realized that she was dehydrated and fatigued from her escape. Still, she did not think that she could return back to the steps of the caldera. Her heart did long for her to flee – to find Skwol and feel safe beneath his golden gaze. She knew that she would first have to get away from the watchful eyes of this stranger.

Nope, definitely didn’t know her.

Even before she revealed that her approach was the result of mistaken identity, he’d decided that she was a stranger; the longer he looked at her, as more it became apparent. With the mystery solved, he had half a mind to just leave, but remained rooted in place by the tone of her voice. His ears perked and he gazed at her curiously, saying, “It’s fine.” It wasn’t, not to him—Xan liked to think that mistaking him for anyone else was impossible and, if somehow done, a crime, because no one was anything like him—but he let it slide just this once. She hadn’t seen his face, he reasoned with himself, just a pelt of white that could belong to almost anyone. But reasoning along didn’t sooth the dull ache of his ego, only provided the necessary means to form questions.

“Who’d you think I was?” he asked, knowing full well that it was doubtful he’d recognise the name. Still, having a name would benefit him later on, on the off chance he ran into his assumed look-a-like; then he could decide for himself if the current mix-up was really something worth accepting and letting go of or not.

The pale wolf brushed her mistake aside so carelessly that Lucy wondered if he even cared that she had thought him to be another man. It was enough to ease some of her nervousness, but the dark shadow still watched him with a wary eye and stiff limbs. Should she need to, the young Blackthorn needed to know that she could escape, that he would not be able to lay a hand on her. The tip of her tail twitched apologetically and she glanced toward the west, where she aimed to travel, hoping for a chance to excuse herself from her own omission and move on.

The stranger inquired who it was that she thought he had been. A jittery, sort of hesitant expression fell onto her dark young features and she turned her gaze back to him. “I, uh... I thought you were a man called Skwol,” she answered softly. Then, sheepishly, she offered a halfhearted smile to the stranger and flattened her ears to her skull. “Your eyes are different, though. Not gold like his.” And all at once, she missed the twinkle of those golden optics and the kind rumble of her former companion's voice.