Bonesplinter Ravine Nod my head, don’t close my eyes

Setting: Night — 23:00
Weather: 40F — Clear skies, light breeze.
Tags: @Simmik

Forward dated to December 3rd!

Kynareth dragged her down through the Firebird’s old pack lands and into the beautiful mouth of his Strath. Simmik would see the power the Saints held at the sheer size of territory they now owned. Though they didn’t patrol the bordering territories as heavily as Hideaway Strath, they still watch them with hawkish eyes. The mountains are viewable in all sides unless covered by trees and It would be made painfully obvious to the pale captive that the only way out is through the way they just came in. 

Even then, Aya’s decayed body sits pretty at the foot of their borders. Donovan’s pretty little decoration. She was pretty alive and she carries it on through death. Though the skeleton is missing the skull, thanks to Dove, it is obvious that the bones are wolf. Or at least canid. 

He doesn’t keep her in the beauty that is the their little Hideaway. No, no, that wouldn’t do. He’d take her — trap her — in the Bonesplinter Ravine. He knows of a shallower part that would be perfect to drop her in. Impossible to escape from too. At least while he gets a good night rest and he’d then come help her out. Or maybe he’d keep her there until she learned some damn manners. Either way, she’s going in for the night. 

So the moonlight bounces off his striking coat. The breeze causes his fur to rustle slightly and his tail bobs almost cutely on his hips. He goes at a slower pace. Simmik is injured, her leg specifically, and he knows he must go at her pace. 

As they enter the general area of the ravine he eyes her briefly. Looking away just as quick he smiles. “Welcome home, darling.” He says softly, though if one really wants to look into it, the words would be more mocking than welcoming.