Swiftcurrent Creek Stone Age

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Moss had been quiet since the trial, rarely speaking as though trying to savour every breath she took. She blended her scent with the borders as she had before, but functioned essentially as a machine might, programmed to perform a task, reset, and then go again. She moved like creeping vine, slowly but surely, and was grateful for the peace.

She avoided the pack’s children, barely acknowledging their existence. Even Akavir and Arric were greeted in passing, but otherwise the stony woman staved off conversation with the distant look in her gemstone eyes. 

It was when she awoke and felt the growing, seasonal urge that she moved with any amount of vigour- though still very little in comparison to most others. She despised the sensation for the way it toyed with her emotions and instincts. Hormones betrayed her- and against her will, she craved something she understood, but had never wanted. Not outside of this season and even in it, she felt unsettled, as though divided between wit and want. 

Nevertheless, there was a sharpness to her gaze as she set about the borders- searching beyond with a meandering pace that threatened to pull her beyond the pack’s borders and to wherever it was she needed to go in order to silence the unwanted cry within her.