The Heartwood please swirl me in your mind, so i can be a color painting that you’ll look upon

@Rannoch
still set in some dark moldy place haha

 
Though the shewolf was on the tail end of her season, the pervasive sense of restlessness persisted. It drove to Olive to travel great lengths, oftentimes in circles from the meadow to the cache and then across the mountains and then east again. It was how the sylph spent most of her time anyways, simply roaming — even more so when coupled with the vivacious energy that pulsed through her veins and dispersed into every molecule of her being. This terrain would be conquered, and her twiggy paws would do the conquering!

At times, Olive looked for the silent stranger and hoped, prayed, beseeched the gods that her might reappear before her, as he always had done before. Oh, yes, then they would make wonderful, passionate love and then lay together, fur intermingling, and perhaps they might learn something new about one another. Olive would have learned anything at all, if it meant being close to that man once more — but alas, he did not materialize and the sylph went on wanting.

Her wandering feet took her to a place that was familiar, yet largely unexplored by thine own eyes. A creature of the night, Olive easily melted into the aphotic forest milieu and nosed at the mosses and molds that painted the stone faces as if with watercolors. The dim rays of sunlight danced with the dust the arose from her shuffling movements. Here she calculated, categorized and memorized the flora of this place, particularly looking for anything that might cool this fire, albeit fading as it was.