Redsand Canyon the death of orchids

the coywolf prowled down the first ledge.
merrick had come from ursus, all the way, all the way, with heat ticking his skin and the ache for donovan's neck clutched thickly in his jaws.
a second ledge.
and so he had spun out from his home, come across the valley and the stone, 
a third ledge, dropping spiderlike into the stale canyon —
come to find nothing, no scent of the saints, no reek of the tiger. disappointment swelled in his chest, tight and angry and nauseating.

Someone prowled her canyon.  She heard them above and their paws as they dropped to the sand.  She prowled forward, attempting to look mysterious and foreboding as she did.  

He did not immediately approach her like the others did, so she didn't in return.  Instead she remained back, listening as he moved, waiting for him to notice her.  She had no way of knowing how long that would take - or even if he would.  But she made no effort to hide.

WC: 81

he searched for donovan with increasing ire. merrick was not ashamed that he had fled their last meet; he was enraged that the canyon-dweller had not remained as he was until the murder-need had built and built and —
when he turned the coywolf was no longer alone, and his redcream hackles flared in surprise and anger. stained with the crimson sand, she seemed spun from a lighter version of it, long-eared and ethereal down to the paleness of her eyes.
merrick stared at her a long moment, then began to approach, nostrils flaring to drink the stranger's scent. no sign of the tiger with this one, just the endless dry fragrance of the empty canyon and the prickling odor of plants clinging to her fur. 
her eyes were not pale, they were veiled, cloudy. a curl of his lip, but merrick did not move to strike. "how long have you lived here?"

I CACKLED

At some point he must have, because he shifted suddenly and then approached.  Fennec's fur rose when he didn't speak right away, but she kept her expression distant.  She didn't want to show any nerves, unsure if this wolf was like the last.

She heard a scuff behind as Quick tumbled behind her.  Time around her had made the small badger less wary of wolves than was probably practical.  She was too busy focusing on the stranger to worry overly much about it.

A week or so. She answered.  Have you come looking for something?  She hadn't called recently, but earlier that day she'd howled.  He was either a late arrival or hadn't known she'd be here.  This place wasn't claimed - it wasn't his home.  So what else would be here that he would want?  (And would he pay if she could sort out a way to "help").

WC: 148

haha excellent

the rank scent of badger assaulted merrick, sharpening his singular pupil. but hunger could be ignored at present. a week, she said, and the bearwitch answered, "not anymore."
she was not one of the saints; she did not belong to donovan, and it had been over a week since the tiger vacated this canyon. frustrating for him, but even that was beginning to wane beneath his growing interest.
"you live alone," merrick observed with a lash of his tail. "seems an ugly place to weather the winter by yourself." tone soft, teasing; he could snap her supple neck if he so chose, but her visage kept such from happening. merrick enjoyed the look of baubles, and the stranger had fashioned herself thus.

He didn't answer her question the way she'd have liked, but there was interest in his tone.  Something else too, but she was accustomed to teasing.  She did it often enough, and honestly, it helped her to lean better into the role she had crafted.  When you offer valuable services, others come to you.  She spoke with a confidence that denoted years of the practice, though in reality she was beginning to doubt.  Not many willing to pay had come calling.

The ravens are willing customers too.  The Wraith doesn't only serve wolves.  She smiled in what was meant to be a secretive manner, though how well the expression actually came off Merrick can decide.

She did not scent any prey on him, so she doubted he had anything to offer.  Likely a chance encounter, so she'd push more for a return visit than immediate sale of service.

WC: 148

valuable services? travellers who came to visit? merrick reevaluated the woman with a closer inspection of his fel eyeball. this time he roamed, lingering far longer than was necessary for the simple fact that she could not see him, only feel the pressure of his unblinking stare.
the idea delighted merrick.
"so you're a vendor of wares for wolves and crows," the bear-witch grinned, beginning to circle her in a quiet fashion, testing what he had heard about the ears of those who could not see. "what sort of things do you sell?" he breathed into one ear. "i might buy," into the other.

He was circling, she could hear it.  She didn't bother to track, though as he whispered in her ear she drew back with a warning lift of her lip.  He was too close, disrespectful.  Like the man before only even more because he at least had maintained his distance to start.

Healing.  Poisons.  Fortunes and gifts for friends or foe.  A curse or a blessing, the former preferred.  She shifted and moved, attempting to keep him to her fore while her head lowered... not with subservience, but with readiness.  He could test her if he wanted but he would regret it.  Still, she listened.  Perhaps he'd take the warning and keep back.

WC: 112

fortunes. merrick lighted to that, a pyromaniac staring at a flame cupped in the curve of her sand-stained little paw. wending lazily away from her, not so much acceptant of her cue as he was curious about her true offerings, the coywolf turned back. "what do i give you for a fortune?"
blood he could give. meat, he suspected was far more likely; she was cunning, willing to use her wiles to fill her belly. for he was not altogether trusting of this witch, only held mollified by his own intrigue, suspended on whimsy. 
merrick waited.

He gave her some space but she didn't shift except to raise her head some.  He was caught by her offering of a fortune.  She flexed her paws on the sand, felt the rough texture of the stones within, and smiled a bit more.  Now he was speaking on terms they could deal with.

Food, primarily.  The more you bring, the more I give, though the signs determine how clear.  If food is not an option, then I would consider other forms.  But some come with no guarantees.  To know the worth of a secret, I'd need to hear it.  She'd considered that briefly as well, dealing in secrets.  She had food, and while she couldn't eat that straight away, it would no doubt pay off in the end.  It was the payment she'd accepted from the wolf before him, after all.

The blood-drinker's secret had been worth a great deal to her.  Did he have any hidden monsters?  Or would he bring her a meal rather than reveal and chance her refusal?

tongue lolled. he listened to the witch's pronouncement, nodded once. so food. meat. the promise of company, though he wouldn't push it by assuming thus. hesitating; he wanted to tease her and then tell her of the bears,
breathe that they had always watched and saw everything, and that no woman astride a lonely canyon could tell him otherwise —
perhaps they also speak to her.
merrick did not like the idea, did not accept it. but he had made a bargain, even if she could only sense it. the bearwolf turned away.

when the boy returned it was with a lateborn fawn. already bound for death beneath winter; merrick had dragged it off and snapped its spindled neck with the precise jaws of one who separated muscle from bone. if she still waited, he would throw the corpse tumbledown and limp into the red sands. if she had departed, merrick would search for her.
he came 'round the edge of the stone where he had left the witch.

She was still there.  Quick was gone, off to nap perhaps, but Fennec had waded into the water and was poised.  Every so often she'd tried to fish without luck, more out of curiosity than anything else.  She'd found no reliable tell so far to determine when a fish was near.  In fact, she wasn't even convinced there were fish in this pool.

At first she thought it was a wolf tumbling down.  If it was they were definitely dead.  As she came forward to investigate, though, she smelled deer, as well as the scent of the man who'd gone.  Ah, payment.  Fennec considered it for a moment.  It was sizeable, but she hadn't liked his proximity.  Something about him, and the way he spoke and carried himself, made her curious.  

Fine, a larger one.

A future, then.  Fennec smiled, affecting the distant tone.  If Fig could hear her he'd probably shit himself, but she enjoyed this immensely, throwing herself in the character wholehearted.  No matter how she felt about anything else, the escape of playing Seer almost made it worth it.

She knew next to nothing about him.  This would be her hardest one yet, one where she'd actually need to try and rely on the signs themselves to reveal to her what she might say.  She inhaled, and as she did, a scent came to her.  Other wolves.

You look to protect those who you surround yourself with. The wind shifted, abruptly.  But too much change can make this difficult.  Sometimes a course that looks fair leads to ruin.  Beware doubt.  Sometimes success comes in different forms.  Fennec paused, letting her paws dig into the sand and stones at her feet.  Surprisingly, she felt a small shoot, something green finding an iota of nourishment near the water's edge.  You've grown and helped others to grow around you.  You have a legacy.  You might hope to complete it, but... behind her, a slight plop.  So there were fish.  You'll need to wait.  Consider, otherwise you may find yourself underwater.  She wasn't sure why the noise in the water had sounded ominous, but a warning seemed to suit this wolf.  He radiated intensity.

Your first priority is your family.  Rocks, beneath, one with a spider hidden.  She felt it scurry as she disturbed it.  But families are not always destroyed by those outside.  You fear a secret, either yours or someone else's.  If you do not let the strife of others destroy you, then you will build the legacy you seek.  It seemed a fair enough reading.  Stones, embedded in the ground, with a shoot sprouting from between them.  

Besides, what pack wolf didn't want to leave a mark?  Still, she waited, wondering if he'd have anything to say.  

my faveeeee celtic cross.  so many swords XDDD
heart - mother of wands
opposing - daughter of wands
root - 7 of pentacles
past - ace of wands
goal - 4 of wands
future - 4 of swords
self - father of pentacles
hopes/fears - 7 of swords
external - 10 of swords
outcome - mother of pentacles

merrick seated himself in the scarlet sand, looking down as he flexed his toes against the cool grains. once upon a time, his paws had been stained the same as her own, for a different reason.
donovan — breath hitching in his throat as the witch described a threat to his future. the underbelly of fish flashing, the sound of their fins cutting the surface. gaze narrowing; he waited for her to go on. 
strength in the teeth and claws of ursus. a family — how had she known this? — and a legacy to build further. merrick's mouth ran dry as before his own mind's eye, winnowing threads of scarlet seemed to wend from the heart of one child to another, his murderous little avians.
"more of them," he whispered, licking awed lips and peering sidelong at the witch. "you speak truly." it was not said with reluctance, only a quiet reverence, a wonderment. perhaps she was like the priest of the bears, and merrick knew swiftly that they must meet. "i destroyed the last strife that came to me and mine. and he lived here." not destroyed, truly, but ursus stood and the saints had departed. victory enough for the mad prince.

There was the fun of fortune telling.  When Fennec spoke of a "legacy", a wolf could hear any number of things.  Some might hear children, others might hear acclaim.  She herself had her hopes set on "infamy"  with just a touch of what she now got, unbridled, from Merrick's tone.  Reverence.

It resounded through her and, for a moment, she forgot every little bit of the trouble that had led her here.  She was the Wraith in that moment entirely and basked in the glow of his praise, even as she dipped her head back, acknowledging the words with a cool silence.

"i destroyed the last strife that came to me and mine. and he lived here."

Then I suppose you should watch for more.  There's never truly a last.  The corner of her mouth tweaked up into a small smile at the word play, but she swung her tail, finished.  That truth he could have for free... it was a rather obvious one.  Beyond every cave resided a larger bear.

crocodillian grin, one she could not see, but the heat brushing from the ridges of his teeth;
perhaps she could smell it;
perhaps the witch knew the bear was dangerous, and welcomed it.
merrick felt surely now that the priest must meet this canyon-dweller, and performed a delighted tight circle before her, snapping at the end of his own tail before straightening. "i want to come and see you again. when is most auspicious?" mockery, yes, teasing, yes, but belief thundering beneath his question.

Everything about his tone screamed interesting to Fennec.  She'd always been a fan of dangerous things and even if she could hear it, it wouldn't have bothered her.  He was no threat to her right now or he'd have already made good on it.  She listened to him with a smile of her own, this time putting up with his circling.  He'd paid with his respect and with the sincerity of his belief.

Fennec wasn't sure how long she'd be here.  She assumed she'd be stuck a while longer, but this wasn't where she wanted to stay.  She was already restless from all of the time alone, and even these random strangers weren't enough.  It hadn't fully dawned on her yet, but she balked at giving an immediate answer.

If I'm still here, when you come next.  If not, we'll meet again.  She finally chose, keeping the Wraith in her voice.  The last she made sound definite, as though a prophesy in itself.  Even if she didn't remain, she would be sure to remember his voice.

merrick smirked. behind the pallid twilight of her eyes he saw a thousand things, assumed more. and yet he never would truly know the expressions she made within her own head. 
her eldritch terms; accepted. "i should get back." to the land of home and of family and of loyalty, her words, her treatise with a higher power.
the single eye lingered, and then merrick turned away, padding along the cold stone until he was swallowed by the unfeeling shadow.