Firefly Glen Hide away from the moments that make us

wc:329

He continued to lumber on, aware of the way the landscape wascoated in crimson light, but barely spending any time to give it notice. If anything, it made it harder for him to differentiate shapes in the tall grass, as the shadows became a purplish hue, and any boulder or gap in the grasses of the glen could have easily been mistaken for a body. He heard the steady beat of pawsteps loping in his direction, making splattering noises in the mud but even above the scent of the wet earth he could tell that this was one of his packmates, and one of the ones he knew very little. Thus, he afforded no time in watching her approach, and simply flicked an ear in her direction as she loped past him, flinching as she sent a bit of mud splattering in his direction.

He lifted a foreleg to wipe the splatter of mud off his cheek probably a bit too dramatically as she turned around to approach him, now that she'd been able to slow down without slipping. The grim, hardset clench to his jaw slackened slightly when he caught sight of her, and he wondered then why he'd not noticed her before. She was sharp-featured, and something about the wildness in her gaze made him forget about his self-pity, if only for a moment. She directed his attention toward the sunset, but he was well beyond finding any solace in looking at the horizon as the sun slowly sank toward it. “The sunset? Nah. Look at our Glen,” He said, gesturing away from the sunset, and across the sprawling fields. In the distance, the rolling foothills looked a rosy plum hue and Moonspear itself a dark, royal purple. Everything looked different when cast beneath the final glow of the day's last glimmer of light, but he was less than enamoured. With a sigh, he continued to move forward, patrolling along the borders like a well-trained guard dog.