Gyrfalcon's Keep bo'ijani

The cold never suited the grey woman. Olive understood and accepted the winter; the role that it played in the rhythm of the seasons was inarguable. The white flurries that the heavens bequeathed them facilitated the return of nutrients to the earth [in the form of decaying vegetation] and facilitated the fresh growth of springtime. But winter was bleak and nipped at her bones. The snows kept her stationary far too often and stifled her motley of visions. Though - Father Winter had his reasons and he dismounted upon the Teekon Wilds every year, regardless of how she felt about it. And so Olive submitted to winter, year after year, season after season.

If Olive had her druthers, the vibrancy of spring would last the entire year. The prosperity that warmer weather afforded life [in general] was boundless and the complexity of it all fascinated her to no end.

No matter the season, however, Olive would never not be touched by wanderlust. Her curiosity to see what lay just beyond the familiar led her in wide circles around her home, Ravensblood Forest. The smoky prospector was always testing the limits of her paws and the limits of the land around her. Often times she would simply traipse in a straight line, jutting out from the forest into the unknown. The sylph would do this for hours before turning around  [she even spent a few nights in the wild when Olive overshot herself]. This thirst to move was instilled in her from a young pup and did not change when she grew and joined a pack of her own - Ceannasach even encouraged her to travel outside their territory… and, leaving the safety of Ravensblood Forest felt a bit dangerous. It was during one of these bouts of wanderlust that she met her eternal, kindred lover; this was all the proof Olive needed to believe only greatness could come from her wayfarer ways. Travel was a part of her physicality as much as it was a part of her soul - Olive’s willowy frame benefitted immensely from the consistent movement and kept her petite figure filled out. 

It was for that reason that Olive rose from her bed in the stony grotto, next to the warmth of her lover, and trotted to one of her favorite locations: Gryfalcon’s Keep. The energy of the place dew her forth, as if she were a moth to the flame. The sylph cantered through the light layer of frost, her dainty paws leaving dark imprints  - a window to the decomposition underneath. The darkness cradled her within its arms and pulled her forth; but the darkness could not hide the form of a white stranger.

“Darling, why do you sit in the cold?” her rich alto sung as Olive neared the stranger.