Mount Apikuni And I see fire, hollowing souls,

Orlaith bid @Caw a farwell, saying she would be back later. Whether he followed along or not, she didn't care. The guard, after the incident with The Saints (again), travelled not home yet, and took a detour to another mountain. It was hard to have peace in the mountain range, especially as so many Packs laid claim' to it's peaks. The Court only took to the side, but there was a solid three more alongst it's reigns.

Exhaustion.

The flaming wolf was liked a dimmed light, as she was so tired. Constantly needing to be on guard, and constant challenges. She had to admit, despite the reluctance, some was escalated due to her. But! It was all for the Court's protection and safety, she felt there was no wrong within that. 

It seemed difficult to rely on others.. Orlaith felt at times she could only trust herself, and even with gathering the Honeyed Sabers, there was so little amongst the group.  So little protection to the lands, it felt like it was all upon her shoulders.

So, she collapsed at the seperate mountain, laying down with eyes half-closed and a slight wheeze.

little here to notice, in some ways. a lot to notice, in others. feels like there’s a pack every few miles in these mountains, borders thrown here and there. borya has little interest in intruding. would be a lot of blood, and not worth the trouble. could have a reasonable conversation, maybe, if wolves were much for being reasonable in groups.

her steps take her up and over the ridge. she’s climbed from the valley far below, a deep v of green, forests and lakes together; promise in that, at least. no scents there to mark a pack, nothing but the faded trails of wolves moving back and forth. not a problem. on their own, they’re usually smart enough not to bother her.

the side of the mountain’s a sharp and sweeping thing. top’s not quite the same – charred here and there, buried by rubble, shoots sprouting hopefully from the ash. tiny pockets of trees and grass. not a kind sort of place, but she’s not here to hunt. not here to claim this as hers, either.

especially not with wolves.

her nostrils flare halfway through. smell’s as good an indication as any that she’s not alone – among all the scattered rubble, takes a few more steps before she can track it to the source: a single wolf, sprawled on the grass. eyes closed. not worth any worry, so far.

a low rumble builds in the bottom of her chest, rolls out into a heavy huff of air. won’t be going out of her way for it, that’s for certain. her paws take her right past; her head rolls to the side, a single spring-green eye fixed unerringly on the other woman’s face. warning. could be a challenge, if she thought it.

if she was smart, she wouldn’t try.

Orlaith was just so damn tired.

She hated the fact that she couldn't take the charge she wanted to, and the fact of the disobedience that came with some wolves. She hated the fact some disrespected her, in the willows, and out of the willows. But she couldn't freely attack without a consequence to follow, how she realized with the day with Derg, and how it was brought up at the meeting.

It was only a snip, but it seemed that enough caused a narrow-view toward the fairies.

The flaming wolf even hated more how much of a push-over others treated, the cougars wandering in, Riley wandering in, Kincaid entering without properly calling for someone! There was structure, there was rules! They were her rules!

But she wasn't the leader to enforce it, only a guard.

And she felt so powerless. 

There always seems to be a higher power..

And one confronted her- a bear of large porportion. She froze in place, watching with narrow eyes once they opened.

the woman might have thought it, at first. eyes opening to a thin sliver of olive green – could see the moment she realized what she looked at, too, the way she froze in place. she didn’t run. for the best. might not have had the will to resist that target. predator’s instinct still lurked right beneath the skin; didn’t matter how borya pretended otherwise.

her scars didn’t come from nowhere. had been more dogs than wolves at the time, but they had the same look – same teeth. gave the same itch to the deep wounds on her shoulder either way.

she keeps walking. pace slowed, wide head turned to face her, leveling an unblinking stare. no teeth or claws; hardly needs them now, but this woman will know they’re there. just as borya knows she holds her own fangs under that muzzle.

the woman stares back.

“something you need?” borya says. her voice comes out a low rumble, scrapes heavy at her throat.

"No." There hasn't been many bears that the flaming wolf met, but the one's she has seen could not communicate as well. It felt like a surprise, but also a dreading for it to properly communicate in common-tongue. It perhaps gave her an ease that it didn't attack so, and she answered calmly, and bluntly to the large female bear. She was just, too exhausted.

"I'd like you to go away," and honetly, despite the exhaustion, she was stil the same personality, the same bluntness. But she really, wanted to simple sleep everything away.

she doesn’t stop staring. does speak, though – can appreciate the bluntness of it, too. not so different from her. little refreshing, given the usual reactions; no snarl, no fear either.

borya huffs. almost a laugh – close as she gets, anyways. comes out halfway to a growl, in the roughness of her voice. fair enough.

she doesn’t speak. turns her head away and sets back out, heading for the rocky edge ahead, the copse of trees that’ll take her out of sight. not looking for a conversation; even if she was, no point in one like this.

She was weak- even though she was weak, just words enough where to let the bear go away. It reminded her of Lumiya, and the sly man Donovan. The two used eloquent (not so much for him) to discuss instead of fangs and claws, the way she wanted to. 

Even what she wanted to, she was still weak. There was no command to her voice, no army to lead her so, only herself, and the few trusted that would follow her at times. 

She flipped in fustration on such world, as why couldn't it just be simple and let her claws do the talk!

But so far, it landed her in trouble. It reminded her of Renard as well, a man so sly with his silver-tongue, she was sometimes at a last to say. Even Nyra, a white beast of the red sands. 

Everything was fustrating.. But one thing for sure is- she definitely felt like her words meant nothing.

Her power, was only trust.

She needed something more.

She wanted strength of the bear, but that wouldn't be enough for her.