Wapun Meadow rosewater & bloodstains

it intertwines with the consistent whine of frigid winds, mourning the perennial cycle in which it is forced to partake in the slaying of life in its own lands again and again. uncombated until right this very moment, its song of woe suddenly a hum in the background when faced with the harrowing call of the berserk king easthollow was unfortunate enough to call their neighbour. his melody, so avant-garde in its distress-- polaris would have felt pure relief had she only witnessed a call of shocking mourn but what made it quite so horrifying, was the question it dredged up; what kind of monster could summon a wail of such vigour and yet not allow sadness, fear, frustration the domineering hand? polaris knew, was well aware of what manic man commanded such rattling power and currently stalked the blustery meadow she herself had ventured into. 

the seconds that slither past before he comes into sight vanish way too fast and the dove is frozen, jaw clenched before the lumbering bear. that constriction of her chest, as if cruel jaws squeeze tight upon it and its filling with icy water and she's drowning but she won't move, can't move---

she knows well what it was, and it sickens her, this potent terror. as if she truly is the trembling deer catching sight of the leering predator that sought only to rob her of life. 

proud spiels of faux bravery and heroism, the desire to slay evil and carve the path for good-- they are snatched uselessly by mocking shadows- what child's play!! it is one thing to throw yourself at a wolf threatening your home, drunk on adrenaline and aware of the wolves that had your back.

out here, she was alone-- and she was terrified, a pathetic coward. no- a fool! a bird that sung songs of taking down bears, what could she ever do to the monster a few lengths away. a dry swallow is all she manages before legs buckle to allow her a crouch amongst pallid drifts. she is pale...she might blend in, but she's not invisible if he looks...she is lithe, quicker she should run and yet....a deer in the headlights, polaris can only stare as the sluggish cry of a chill touched mind falls on deaf ears.