Wapun Meadow quick silver

Autumn was a fair time of year. The weather seemed to vary between bustling thunderstorms and warm days – like an Indian summer was intended to be. That particular year, it seemed as though the warm, dry days were few and far between. More often than not, the skies were littered with heavy clouds, ripe with rain. Thunder rolled across the sky with a graceless boom that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth. Kierkegaard was used to the change in climate. He had spent a good deal of his life in a number of strange places. While he had primarily kept to travel in the north, his nomadic wandering had taken him many other places with his sister as well. Kierkegaard had traversed across a great deal of the land in the short while that he had been there. Moz was not far behind, he knew as much… she could never be far from him at any given time. The meadow was not an ideal place for the ashen creature. He would prowl forward a good ten yards or more before he was forced to pause and lift his head upwards. His purpose for trekking through the terrain was to reach the opposite end. He could spot the stretch of trees that seemed to cast shade in startling contrast to the meadow’s bright floral setting. Picking up his pace, Kierkegaard kicked his hind legs and cantered forward, loping through the tall grass with – at least – some improvement on his travel time. There was a loud snort from roughly twenty yards away, bringing the ashen wolf to a slow trot and then stopping him in his tracks entirely. His bright gaze settled on a hulking brown figure that lurked in the distance, just before the cottonwoods that were to have been his refuge. The grizzly bear seemed not to have noticed Kierke’s presence… at least not yet, but it seemed to be lumbering towards the ashen wolf. Snorting, he lowered his head and attempted to circle around the large beast. His bright orange-gold gaze was settled on her figure the entire time, waiting for the moment when she caught his scent.