Golden Glade poison or weed

open to all for recruitment as well!

The cold wind of winter howled through the trees as Mictec padded silently across the snow-covered ground, her dark fur a sharp contrast against the white expanse. The world around her was quiet—too quiet. The pack she had begun to build was still small, just a handful of wolves, but she could feel the weight of the coming season pressing down on her. Winter was harsh, and if she didn’t find new members soon, she feared they might not make it through.

Her body moved gracefully through the snow, each step purposeful. She had learned to trust her instincts over the years, knowing that sometimes silence said more than words ever could. The cold wind whipped her dark fur, but she barely noticed it. In fact, the chill seemed to suit her—just like the silence.

Her thoughts turned to her small, but fiercely loyal pack. They had followed her out of respect, not fear, and that meant more than anything. But even so, they were small and in desperate need of food, and more importantly, a healer.

Her ears twitched at the distant sound of a twig snapping, but she did not flinch. Mictec enlisted the assistance of @Aitana, wanting to access her strengths and to find a role that she would be the best assest for. The small layer of snow had formed over night and the dark clouds above meant more was to come.

The winter would be hard for any lone wolf—too hard she thought to herself.

Her marigold eyes scanned the landscape, and a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her. Mictec believed in the potential of her pack, in the unity it could bring, and the protection it could offer. But that was a dream, and dreams needed the strength of others to become reality.

This is not just survival, Mictec said aloud This is a beginning.

Aitana padded alongside Mictec, her silver-streaked coat blending with the gray shadows cast by the snow-laden sky. The chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her; she wore it like a second skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her teasing grin.

Despite her usual air of casual confidence, her sharp amber eyes were always moving, scanning the landscape as if every tree and shadow held a secret.

Mictec’s words cut through the stillness, and Aitana tilted her head toward her, intrigued. She snorted. “That’s one way to describe trudging through snow and hoping we don’t freeze to death.”

She stepped ahead slightly, her paw crunching lightly against the snow as she glanced back over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan, Mictec? You’ve got me out here freezing my tail off—what are we hunting for? New recruits? Food? Or are we just out here contemplating the meaning of life in the middle of a snowstorm?”

She meant no disrespect, of course. Only friendly jest, evident by the glint of amusement in her eyes and the snarky smirk upon her feminine snout.

Mictec moved with effortless grace, each step a dance in the snow, her voice soft but carrying the weight of someone who knew the power of silence.

Recruitment is never ending, we will need the strength of many, she mused, a playful edge to her tone, though her expression was thoughtful.
But I’m more interested in what you bring to the table, amiga.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving Aitana. Her tail flicked in the snow, barely making a sound. You’ve got sharp eyes—always scanning, always thinking ahead—but what else is there? Are you the type to stand strong when the storm comes, or do you wait for the right moment to strike?

Mictec slowed her pace down to a trot, no need for urgency, Or are you someone who puts other before themselves, that when faced with a challenge there is no desire to back down.

Her voice was softer now, but there was a steel beneath it that left little room for doubt. You are someone I do not want to have any doubt giving trust too. Pues, dime, how would you define yourself?

Aitana smirked, her tail flicking behind her, scattering snow in her wake.

“Well,” her voice breezy, “I’m not exactly the self-sacrificing type, if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t get me wrong, chica, I like ya—

She glanced at Mictec, her smirk softening into something closer to genuine. “But trust? That’s a tricky one, amiga. Trust doesn’t come easy for me. Not because I don’t want to give it, but because too many times, it’s been a weapon pointed at my throat.”

She heaved a sigh as she recounted one of those many times.

"I’m resourceful. Smart enough to know when to fight and when to step back. Loyal to those who prove they’re worth it.” She leaned closer to bump Mictec on the shoulder. "Like you."

Aitana grinned, the sharpness returning to her expression as she trotted a step ahead, kicking up a spray of snow with her paw. “That good enough for you, jefa? Or should I keep going?”