Dragoncrest Cliffs The Freedom From Possession

Dust motes played in the dappled rays that filtered through the trees while the cast of the sun coming in the moments where the clouds splayed gave intermittent hues of warm and then cool colors to sprawl across the unknown lands. Even in it's beauty, Rouj's mind began to shift and wander from the sights to his future again. Perhaps, not so much as his future place, but his future purpose. Occasionally, the plume of his tail would flick to one side or the other as his thoughts turned. He'd been made to be a tool more than a living, breathing wolf, and direction was becoming hard to find. His focus? It was unclear. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, but to where? He couldn't say. He wished he was as simply carefree as the waterfowl that fluttered in a diamond through the swathe of feathered heather gray that they shortly disappeared within.

With the snap of his ear, followed in suit by the dart of his eye, Roujuihnn picked the sound of another out of the waves, the wash and the wind through the canopy above him. Platinum sights peered at the other whom watched him from a distance and his gaze narrowed. How long had he been there, if just now to make himself known? His edges hardened. He was hesitant to approach the male with an earthy face and caramel ears, but it would do him less good to remain seated where he was. A judgment call was made and the grayscale male brought himself to a stand.

A short bark shot through the distance between them, summoned from a hoarse and scarcely used tune. He hadn't called out so quietly as he had been addressed, but when he finally noted the downtrodden posture, his own features softened. Still wary, but now less so, the coal laced gray wolf stole steps from between them. After a time of cautious weaving through the more unsteady appearing edge of the rocky ledge, all the while keeping an eye on what he was hoping would be transient company, he finally made it near enough to get a solid look at this male. The drifter lifted his graveled note, curious as to why he'd been given the time of day for such a short invitation to usher him across the gap,” Rouj',” The utterance was short introduction, but spoken in such a way that it was clearly a name even if what the meaning behind it was obscure and forgiving the fact that it sounded a bit more like a sneeze than the sobriquet of his born handle.

Rather than ask the younger male what he was doing out here by (hopefully) himself, agaze for a time only after announcing his presence, Rouj' would keep his interrogation to himself for a while. There wasn't a way of telling who this guy was, not without knowing the surrounding region or the packs that might take up residence in nearby areas. For all he was concerned, this stranger may be young, but that didn't give reason to underestimate him. First rule of rough rouge living was that if someone assumed frail seemed helpless, It was a trap. It was a shame that Rouj's mind wasn't quite so mature enough to know if that had been the case, he'd have been long ago surrounded.