Kintla Flatlands Scorn the Apricorn for it's Forlorn from the Tree

if all goes to plan tundra should be a member of bfw when this takes place

soft paws carry the pale woman across the rolling flats aimlessly. as much as she enjoyed the shelter of the familiar aspect of the dark forests, she still felt the more than occasional need to escape by herself even if the bare flatness continued to leave her skin prickling with unease. what starts off as a stroll of sorts begins to heighten in intensity as it shifts to a brisk pace- leaving her looking like she was on a mission and before she knows it she's flat out running- cutting through the cold air like an arrow as paws thud against the grassy earth.

for a while she just runs, as simple as that- no reason and no destination in mind. it's just her, the wind rushing past her creamy ears and the increasingly loud beat of her heart as it worked hard to pump the sufficient amount of fuel needed to propel her small body forward.

eventually she's forced to stop, paws skidding slightly on the damp grass as she stands panting- jaws agape as her salmon tongue lolls from them. she feels....exhilerated. such an unusual emotion to describe the stoic fae and yet she'd experienced it through something as mundane as running on a brisk day. she rolls back her shoulders and stretches out her tired muscles one at a time, dark eyes scanning the surrounding landscape for anything that stood out. sure enough only a few moments later a wolf as dark as night became visible picking their way across the lands. she leans back on her haunches, tail tip twitching slightly but otherwise still as her ears remain pricked atop her head. she's too far to catch the man's attention even if she wanted to /not that she really did to be honest/ but judging by the alert way he was carrying himself she wouldn't go unnoticed for long and so she simply waited.