pester

Ookaan. The word should mean home, though he wasn't entirely sure why he had decided to return to the meadow with Alo. He had been battling his inner demons for some time, and yet he knew that a wolf was nothing without a pack. The virtuous path made sense. In so much so as something for him to strive for, aside from redemption for his actions. Marek was struggling to come to terms, and his inner struggle was going to break him if he didn't begin to focus on his role in the pack. He needed to meet his pack mates, as new to Ookaan as he was himself, and forge bonds. He needed to determine where his worth lie in so far as serving Ookaan. Did he believe in Kamali as Alo did? Or was he simply willing to accept her beliefs and respect them, while he lived a godless life. Fall. He stated aloud, loudy, his voice demanding. He was seated amongst the cottonwoods along the southern edge of the meadow, though time irrelevant in his mind, the sun was just rising on what should be a beautiful fair weathered day. The wolf continued daring them to crush his body beneath their weight. He would struggle.

Hey! :)

Marek was not the only creature struggling in this world, nor in this very moment.

Artisan was awake before the sun once again. This had become habitual once she had started travelling. Although she was strong-willed and bold in her nature, she never quite felt safe on her own in these unfamiliar places. Her thirst for adventure had driven her from her home, from her siblings and pack-mates, from family and from friends. Out here, she had no one. She had only been exploring for a month or two when she had become Ookaan.

It wasn't that she wasn't cut out for the travelling life, she told herself. It was that she was a sociable creature, she craved the company of others. She would be Ookaan for as long as she liked, then perhaps she would move on. Returning home still did not seem like an option, despite the aching pang in her gut that she attributed to missing her loved-ones. They would welcome her back unconditionally, a thought which both drove her home and kept her here. There was no time limit, the conclusion would be the same.

The conclusion was not what she was looking for.

She had been picking her way silently through the cottonwood trees when a voice broke the silence. One word was spoken, crisp and clear. One word was all it took to capture her intrigue. Artisan continued on in the direction of the voice and finally her gaze rested on a figure at the base of one of the almighty trees. Why would he wish them to fall? His utterance had not been a question, yet Artisan felt compelled to respond.

"Rise."

Ever the optimist. Like the cottonwoods, she would continue to grow.