Barrow Fields i was lost in the cities, alone in the hills

in the snow, a set of crisp hoof tracks cleaved through the barrows on a meandering path. the flatlands, buffed only by the rise of intermittent mounds, seemed largely vacant save for the swirl of snow playfully pushed around by the wind.

she seemed alone; the hind she was following must have turned inland at some unknown provocation — midways through the territory the tracks scattered and long, scraping marks signaled the doe’s bolting departure. caiaphas wondered what could have occurred to startle the beast, for no tracks save her own followed after.

When the world seemingly ended, he had to turn inland despite all of his innate misgivings. It took some effort to climb along the cliffs until rolling hills met his gaze, longer still for him to meander through the meadow until he was content enough to pause and rest. The wide open space reminded him of the salt flats; with the dense layers of snow covering all the foliage it was not dissimilar.

Here, too, he found a narrowly built figure trekking through the snow. The wolf was not eager to pursue them, but found himself slinking along anyways - and as he followed after the deer he was set upon by a sense of deja-vu.

for a while yet the sylph craned her neck, trying with little avail to see just how far the fleet steps of the hind traversed. after several hundred feet the tracks disappeared around the hump of a snow clad barrow, thus ending caiaphas’ interest in pursuing. 

not  that she had the ability to bring down a healthy deer herself. 

as she looked back to the south, she saw a figure driving — or drifting — towards her. measuring him with careful pause, she noticed the lacking of scars that accompanied his charcoal pelt, sinking in crisscross patterns deep into the burnished copper of his nape. something had gotten him at some point — and the scars he wore made her surprised he had gotten away at all. 

intrigued — mostly to find out of it was the blasted bear’s doing — she too stepped towards him, her lambent yellow gaze betraying her focus. once they were reasonably close she drew to a halt and spoke.  what got you?

What he thought to be a deer was, in fact, a wolf. He did not realize it until he was nearer and she had paused; the true deer was leagues away already and set itself in a mild panic when the scent of two wolves caught their attention. Firefly stopped his irregular stride and regarded the wolf; if he focused with his right eye he could see her clearly, a jagged masked creature with sharp angles and weathered expression. His left was a milky white but that didn't mean he had been wholly blinded by experience — he could make out her shape with it, kind of like staring at a misted mirror after a shower, and when overlayed together it gave the stranger an ethereal quality. Smoothed some of those rough edges.

She looked old. He voice sounded matronly, but the expression on her face held a visceral wildness. Her comment caught in his ears and they twitched - slicking back briefly, although the missing ear on one side didn't appear to move much. Dunno, he responded, and cleared his throat afterwards.

Was somethin' big. Nearly died — didn't, though. He recalled the white-hot pain of defeat, flashes of forest and the smell of blood — Firefly flinched when a fresh wave of these memories vivified in his mind, and looked away from the stranger, his expression grim.

gods was he chewed up. caiaphas had eaten and then upchucked rats in better shape than him. upon closer inspection it was impossible to miss the blemished gaze, the tattered and dogworn ears — surely whatever had seized him was powerful beyond reckoning. 

it was disappointing then, that he did not know. she curbed her tongue despite wanting to heatedly ask how one didn’t know the face of their attacker — particularly when the assailant had been so painfully intimate with ruining his flesh? she settled for asking for more details. not nearby, I hope.

Her concern for him was vague at best, and seemed more resolute when she questioned where the event took place (although not in so many words), which made sense. Had the attack been recent then the culprit would've been nearby somewhere and she was merely looking out for herself - or for one of the other wolves of her family, he thought when his senses finally delved beyond the saline quality of her scent. She was alone at the moment but, not always. There was safety in numbers.

Firefly couldn't remember where it had happened - only the dark trees, the soil muddied with blood, the screaming of --- the attacker maybe, or himself? But he was strongly opposed to dark spaces now, and that gave him a clue. Somewhere.. dark. A forest. But.. No, not here. He was wrong but didn't know it; the cougar lingered in the wilds, had terrorized so many by this point, and nobody was truly safe.

He frowned when trying to draw together more of his thoughts, his memories, but could not hold on to much for long. So he redirected the conversation — You smell like the beach.

it was quite true the sylph's concern - if it could be called that - for the man was purely vested in self-interest; if he was so heavily and nearly destroyed, so close to home, then it was time for her to get packing. a sliver of doubt weaseled its way into her mind - the sound had housed a bear once, and if it was the same one.. she would be putting her family in irreconcilable danger.

and then she reminded herself, firmly too, that no bear scent had been detected -- and she had looked.

the male didn't give much in the way of a descriptive answer. vague, at best - many woods were dark, though the shadewood came immediately to mind. "what do you think? cat? bear?" she sniffed as if the scars could still tell some small story about their origin; thus far all she could tell was that he had been firmly walloped.

the male's observation elicited a wry sneer - so very astute, he was -- she looked about them, where the beach hulked in the distance grey and formless. "could that be because we are near one?"

didn't she know by now sarcasm was not how you made friends?

He couldn't remember. But when she began listing what it could've been, his body thrummed with an adrenaline spike upon hearing the word cat; he took the sensation to mean that he was done answering questions. Maybe her closing of the proximity between them - to sniff at his wounds - was a factor as well. His fur bristled and he huffed softly while side-stepping for more space.

Then, her comment. Firefly couldn't remember ever being near the ocean; he didn't know if he'd ever seen it up close, although through his most recent travels he had found the beach and traipsed along the sand. None of it was familiar. He knew the terms - he knew to say ocean when talking about an endless span of water, or beach when the dirt fell away to smaller particles; yet he had no memory of such spaces.

He turned his head to mimic her actions when she looked towards the distant sea, and saw the dark band on the horizon that he assumed were dark clouds - but with the haze of his dimming eye effectively smudging his ability to see long distance, he gave up. His gaze turned sharp and he narrowed his eyes at her for a second — Oh.

a change came over the tattered man at the mention of cat -- it was brief, but told the sylph what she needed to know. she wouldn't press further; not that her words were capable of imposing any more damage than the helllcat's claws had been..

as the male stared into the distance, his clouded gaze resting on some nebulous shore, the siren drew a long breath. supposing he couldn't see the briny expanse, caiaphas pressed past the careful distance he had planted between them. "you never see the ocean before?" if there was accusation in her voice she hid it well, though the flintiness of her gaze betrayed much of her assessment of the man.

He shouldn't have felt so odd when she made her remark; it wasn't quite embarrassment, but it was something close. The man recalled being near the beach a day or so ago, when he'd visited the Sound — but not the sea itself. If he'd ever seen it in his lifetime he had forgotten. So he responded by shrugging his torn shoulders.

Seen the beach... I met a boy earlier, said he had lived in a cove earlier in the year, he was thinking of the boy that had been fixated on his scars; then, remembering that he had mentioned a mother, something clicked in Firefly's head — he glances back to the soot-faced matron and comments, You his mother?

He hadn't met her at the Sound, and wondered now if the boy had been looking for her when they'd wandered to the cave; speculations galore, but he watched the woman carefully for the truth.

she felt his eyes settle upon her, and even though they were filmed over and opaque, she knew he was studying her close for her answer. 

the sylph wasn’t fond of hearing illidan held council with strangers so close to their reunion — but perhaps that lack of judgment on her sons behalf was her fault — after all, she had not been the one responsible for raising him thus far. 

if he looks like me, yes. she answered transparently enough, wondering just what their encounter entailed. what did you two do?

She didn't appear bothered by his brief association with Illidan, but he couldn't tell too much just by watching her. The woman was practiced in concealing herself. Still, Firefly spoke plainly about the encounter: He caught me on the beach and was staring at my scars, so we talked. Firefly wondered if he should mention how impressed the boy had been - instead he carefully explained the conclusion of their meeting, Said I could stay if I put the pack first, more or less is that.. alright?

such a industrial little son she had, thought caiaphas wryly. here she was scraping strangers from their miserable lives, and illidan had secured one from within. 

she apprised the male for a second longer, her gaze trailing the footpath of scars on his body. you put him before others. she corrected, but then her posture relented. provided you do that, it is fine by me. he hasn’t had an easy life, you know.

She watched him, and he thought that her expression was so familiar - so dangerous - that it brought to mind the twisting darkness of the forest where he'd been found; he felt his spine ripple with indecision for a moment or two, but managed to keep his composure as he looked at her. Although she was blurry in his eyes, there was a sharp quality to her that unsettled him — then, she spoke. It seemed he had the matron's blessing.

He hasn't had an easy life, you know. She commented, earning a small huff from the brutalized man. He trailed next to her for a few more steps before he murmured, No, I don't suppose any of us have.

And from there, he was silent. He would follow her for a little while longer before turning around again, heading for the beach lest she keep him for some purpose.

like the battered male, caiaphas fell silent following his words. he was not wrong -- life was long, and often filled to the brim with troubles. it was all a mother could do to keep those troubles at bay.

caiaphas, of course, had failed in that edict more way than one. finding their conversation concluded (and her own thoughts darkening), the sylph turned back for the sound with a new shadow not far behind.