Cricket Creek Bog you'll get it in the next life,

maybe someone from SMC but no pressure either way :) AW is AW

In the bog he lurked, hunkered down near a shallow pool with a shred of hope in his belly.

The water here was fresh and while he doubted fish might swim within it for its shallow nature, he wondered if a frog or two might. Something to tide him over until the next big thing — if the big thing would ever come.

His silence was his strongest asset here though. Well, his spindly limbs were well too for picking across the ground in a stealthy manner. He crouched, he crept, he listened keenly for something that might have stirred around the edge of one of the bog's pool.

Until the next big thing —

it often felt as if Alara spent her life suspended in those moments between. Forever waiting, somehow. Waiting for disaster; waiting for a miracle. She was never quite sure.

Or maybe just waiting for the next opportunity to feel part of the world again, to be seen and known and to know herself. In the absence of eyes upon her, she felt half a ghost. But here and now there was a wolf, a dark spindly creature, and Alara felt more real than ever. He was a thing fashioned in a sharp method, almost arachnid; other.

Immediately Alara was set at ease, though she didn't speak just yet. She lingered near, wandering closer in a wide circle that did little to answer the question of whether she truly meant to approach, or simply held her own interest in what might lurk beneath the water.

Her wide circle freed him from his immediate attention.

His first focus was this pool, these waters, the creatures that might be feasted within it. He thought he heard it. That croak that signaled a tiny meal was within his reach.

Lower, lower, lower.

The soft hairs of his underside became brushed by bogwater and placed its scent upon him. He was prepared to launch and to feel something between his teeth. Only in that moment he finally noticed that smudge of pale against the land. She was not so near as to heed any kind of immediate greeting that he was inadequately capable of giving.

But she was here.

His nostrils flared softly as he tested the air for more than just frogs.

Closer — closer, until the air tasted so strongly of him that Alara could sense nothing else. Her eyes followed each subtle movement. For a time it seemed as if he might not notice her at all, and perhaps that wouldn't be the worst thing.

But then he did. Alara chuffed softly, inquisitive but unwilling to break the silence completely. The air around him was peaceful; oddly still. She didn't want to ruin that just yet.

His hunt had turned upon her, but it was not with a ferociousness. He was not here to wield teeth and claw upon her. He meant only to track her as if this was his greatest hunt yet.

Along the edge of the pool he crawled, closer and closer. His long legs made delicate creeping movements befitting something more eldritch and less wolven.

If she moved, he was prepared to position himself to point towards her trail.

The sensation of being hunted was not entirely new to Alara. Once it might have set her to flight without a second glance back. Yet here and now she lingered. After several long seconds of watchful silence, she turned away.

If he meant to follow, she would lead. Alara slipped away and into the undergrowth, tail waving like a flag to signal him closer. She would know her destination only when she reached it; only when he caught her.

He crept, he crawled, he inched along.

A haunted hunter he had become with this ghost as his target. He could not explain why he did not stop or find some better way to interact. Maybe because this was him. He could not talk to her, he could not attempt to charm social interaction.

If one was not scared of his curiosities and oddities then he was inclined to simply be.

She set the mark and the pace, he followed. Hunched still but body lifted only slightly to move with the quickness she had picked up. He told himself he would not lose her so easily.

But the truth was she controlled this hunt far more than him.

Wanna fade & have a new one? I can start! <3

She wasn't unaware of the power she held, the way he rested in her palm now as he trailed wordlessly after her. Alara knew she could have left him to the company of shadows and frogs, then. But that wasn't what she wanted.

For a time she only let him pursue her, ducking through ferns and twisting round trees; pausing every so often to peer over her shoulder, to let her eyes meet his in silent communication. Her own gaze was beckoning each time it found him.

1000% yes

Each time was a trance.

She very well could have led him to a cliff and he wondered if he might have walked off it. She could have ran into the ocean and he would have battled waves.

Each time was a summons.

He answered, he followed. An obedient shadow that might be wielded if she ever had the desire.