Otatso Wetlands Weatherwise

A cold front approached. Winter’s Wake knew that the wetlands would not make for a pleasant place to be once the temperatures dropped, but the further south he traveled, the wetter the land seemed to get, much to his annoyance. He inadvertently made a path for the marshland some due miles east, and in assuming (incorrectly) that it would get no better any faster if he changed course, the winterwolf surged ahead without deviation.

On top of this, no matter how gently he stepped, the earth squelched under his weight. It seemed there would be no hunting that overcast day. He expected to go hungry for the night.

To cheer himself up, he paused to admire his reflection in a murky puddle. But alas, this drab representation of himself brought him no joy either.

For the first time in a very long time Esma felt truly lost. Over the months she had not yearned to return to Riverclan, eager to explore the world that held the promise to answer her questions about gods. The fortune had smiled upon her all through summer and most of the autumn, until she decided to return to Riverclan in hopes to spend the winter months there. She knew that Ash Paw would never turn her down. 

However, when she had arrived to her former home, she found it completely empty. No sign of any wolves living. She checked the former altars, where her mother used to leave gifts and they were long since abandoned. Here and there were remnants of, what could have been an offering to the bear gods, but no one had tended for them in a long time. Confused and clueless about, what to do now, she wandered northwards, back to the coast, where the weather was milder. 

More than ever she yearned to meet John again - the priest had a knack of appearing in her life, when she needed her the most, but it seemed that now even he was more busy listening to his god than hearing that Esma was thinking about him a lot a quietly praying his god to send him her way. However, there was some god that had listened to her, for, when she stopped to have a drink, she saw just as dreary and lonely person as she did. However, shy and never the first one to make contact, she waited quietly for the stranger to notice her. 

Movement in the corner of Wake’s eye drew his attention. A curious gaze turned to meet that of a young wolf, all stone and greige, saddled with tawny. His tail waved softly to see them, but they seemed hesitant, and for a moment he wondered if the other wolf had meant to be seen at all.

Ave, he called, his voice tempered with delicate encouragement. He wanted them closer, not further away if he could help it. His proud muzzle sniffed at the air, working for a whiff of their scent.

Female. Healthy. Alone.

That last bit of information was most important to him. Another lonely wolf made it more likely that he could earn himself a bit of company. I am Winter’s Wake, he went on, closing the distance by only a few very deliberate steps. He would give her the ultimate decision on how close she wanted to get. May I ask who you are?

Esma was unsure, how to react, and, when she felt that the stranger had come close enough, fur along her spine bristled, she crouched slightly and let out a quiet growl. After waiting a little to see, if the other responded to this (Me assumes that he did), she straightened herself and shook her coat. There was some wariness about her, but she was more curious about the other person. 

"Esma," she replied, sitting down and looking at Winter's Wake to continue the conversation.

As commanded by her warning, Wake came no further than allowed and pressed his ears forward to catch her name. Esma. Though loathe to feel the cold, squelching ground on his behind, he reclined as she did, if only to reiterate that he would match her energy, continue only on her terms. Just to make her feel comfortable.

He tilted his head. Do you know this wetland well?

"No, not really," Esma replied, glad that Wake had begun the conversation with something easy. "I come from a forest with a lot of rivers - my family lived there once and now they do not," she beckoned in the direction, where formerly Riverclan had resided. "By any chance - you do not know, where they may have gone?" she asked, feeling hopeful. "There was a wolf named Ash Star - a healer, she looks just like me," she explained, wondering, if she should mention other names, but realizing that she could not recall any. Which was no surprise - of them all, her mom had mattered the most. 

"Where do you come from?" she asked next, so that she did not have to tell much about herself.

Wake gave a single solemn shake of his head. I have not met anyone who resembles you, he informed Esma, voice somewhat apologetic. Though he had coincidentally been to the very same forest with many rivers she spoke of, there had been no packscent there and he saw no utility in telling her that it was still abandoned. She would likely still want to see it for herself.

But there is a pack, Swiftcurrent Creek, in that direction. The snowpanther gestured to the south. Perhaps your family has exchanged one source of water for another.

He expected her to leave after his unhelpful answers, but the springlass with the sunshine eyes surprised him with a conversational offering instead. I hail from the Four Pointed Mountains, he answered, appearing very proud to say so. My family has lived there for more generations than I can count, he wanted to boast. Unfortunately, this seemed an exceptionally cruel thing to say to someone whose family could not be reliably located.

Instead, he told her: Their peaks can touch the clouds, and the forests are so vast that they can house many packs worth of wolves for wintermoons on end without prey running scarce. His tail wagged at his memories of home. It is an idyllic place for someone with much less ambition than myself.