Greatwater Lake remember how i died when you started walking?

The Emberwood stirred under a light breeze, its vivid autumn hues trembling as if the forest itself breathed with quiet life. Sunlight filtered through the lattice of aspen branches, casting golden pools on the forest floor, where fallen leaves crunched softly underfoot. The occasional chatter of squirrels and the flutter of wings overhead filled the air, a symphony of animals that painted this place as a hunter’s dream.

Gjalla moved like a shadow, her sharp gaze sweeping across the terrain as she tread carefully over the uneven ground. There was no urgency in her movements—she was patient, methodical, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Her breath steamed faintly in the crisp air, a sharp contrast to the quiet warmth of the forest. Her eyes, cold and calculating, occasionally lingered on the fiery colors above, the rarest flicker of interest brushing her guarded expression. But it was fleeting. With a flick of her tail, she refocused, ears twitching to the rustle of a hare in the underbrush ahead.

There it was—a target, unaware of her approach. Gjalla dropped into a low crouch, muscles coiled with precision as she crept closer, the dry leaves muffling her steps just enough.

for @Baela !

It was time to move, to keep searching. Baela knew that, and yet the lake had called to her. Large and crystalline, in the right light it resembled the large bays of her home. She missed it. The salty spray that crimped her pelt and the cry of seabirds. It wasn't fair, but when had life ever been fair? 

Baela moved away from the lake then, determined to rid herself of thoughts of the past. Autumn was upon her, the crisp air filling her lungs. With the change of seasons, so too could she change. Her pace was brisk as she entered the wooded area closest to the lake. The trees, like fire against the pale blue sky, shielded her from the more bitter gusts of wind. 

Teeming with game, and who knows what else, Baela forged a path through the forest. Her steps were loud, careless, as she weaved between the white barked trees. The crunch of leaves and twigs was enough to send a nearby hare into a fit, the creature scattering from its hiding place beneath some shrubbery. Looking towards the hare's nest, Baela caught the eyes of another wolf. 

Instinctively, Baela's hackles and tail puffed in a show of aggression. The shadows and wind masked the other wolf's presence, a reminder to the woman that she had grown complacent during her journey. Those eyes though, like two periwinkle gems peering out from the shadowed forest, called to her. Familiarity had her stepping forward despite her mind screaming to leave. 

Who goes there?

Gjalla had been closing in on her prey, her every movement deliberate and soundless as she crept closer to the unsuspecting hare. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled her nostrils, grounding her in the present as she prepared for the strike. But then, chaos. A careless crash of steps and the startled cry of the hare sent it darting into the underbrush, a streak of brown vanishing into the fiery forest. Gjalla froze, her jaws tightening in quiet frustration.

Turning toward the source of the disruption, her sharp gaze sliced through the trees until it landed on the interloper. Baela. That silver-pelted figure was unmistakable, even in the shifting light of the Emberwood. The woman’s bristling stance was met with Gjalla’s cool, unmoving stare, the faintest flicker of surprise (and maybe agitation) breaking through her otherwise impassive mask. Of all the wolves to encounter in these woods, it had to be her.

"Baela." Her voice was low and even. "Still as graceful as ever, I see." Gjalla's posture eased, though her tail remained still, a testament to her wariness despite the familiarity. She took a measured step forward, the aspen leaves parting with a quiet rustle. "What brings you out here? Or am I to assume you were simply trying to ruin someone else's hunt today?" The faintest curve of her lips betrayed a ghost of a smirk, though her pale eyes remained unreadable.

Baela's name carried on the wind. The ghostly cadence of the woman hidden in the shadowed forest finally confirmed her identity. Cloaked in shadows, both in body and mind, Gjalla had always been an enigma to her. Where Baela was fire, Gjalla was ice. Two opposing forces that had at time butt heads. Luckily for Baela, the dark-coated woman had been more involved in the politics of pack life than she ever had. 

Hackles and tail falling to rest, the woman draped in frost took in Gjalla. She looked healthy. Cold indifference covered her emotions, but that was normal for the woman. Baela was glad to see another wolf of Evenspire had made it out seemingly unscathed. While Gjalla advanced on her, she moved into a relaxed stance. Baela may remember Gjalla as a bit cantankerous, but she never took her for the type to be a threat. Had Gjalla been eroded by the sands of time as she had? That was to be decided it seemed. 

A slow, friendly wag of Baela's tail prefaced her response. How did you know? I didn't want anyone getting too comfortable and all that, She remarked, humor lacing her tone. The silence of the forest that had followed her disruption slowly came to an end. High above them a bird called, perhaps pinpointing where the two predators stood conversing. 

You look good Gjalla. I hope the world has been treating you well since, Baela paused, twitching uncomfortably as her eyes fell to the debris-littered floor. everything.

Gjalla’s gaze softened ever so slightly as Baela spoke, though it was still the faintest shift—barely noticeable if one were not paying attention. The woman's voice, warm with a touch of humor, tugged at something within her, something that she rarely allowed to surface. A flicker of nostalgia crossed her features, but it was gone before it could fully take form.

“The world is a cold place, Baela,” The icy woman’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, though it never quite reached her eyes. "Comfort’s a luxury I’ve learned not to rely on." she replied dryly, her voice smooth but sharp. She stood a little straighter, the remnants of a stoic mask settling back into place.

The breeze shifted, carrying the scent of the forest and the faintest trace of salt from the lake, reminding Gjalla of the distance between them. So much had changed, and yet, here they were, the same as they had always been. Same enough, on a surface level.

"I’m sure you’ve found your own ways to adapt," she said, though her voice lacked the sharpness it might have once held. The faintest hint of a question lingered in her tone, a curiosity that only half revealed itself. Life had a way of chiseling away at the things you thought were permanent.