Cricket Creek Bog soar higher than the stars

Open to anyone. Date set for today - December 12th - with mention of her travel through the adjacent territory. She's heading for the Malkaria next. Tagging @Voodoo just in case they wanna pop in!

The she-wolf spent the good part of a day (and most of the night) finding her way through a forest of cedars. The many paths opened to her presented temptation; it was a healthy territory replete with small game, where any lone wolf could subsist for a good period of time. Whether it would be good enough for her or not, Miyax couldn't have known. She was sidetracked in her journey by hints that there were voles, sleepy chipmunks, rabbits trying to survive in their burrows through winter, presumably deer, and even a river that Miyax suspected carried fat fish within it. She stopped there for a time to gather her thoughts (and have a swift drink), but was on her way again when night began to fall.

As the cedars thinned and the ground became a mess of slush and freezing waters, Miyax had to slow her pace. It was late in the night when she chose to make camp — seeking out some firm ground upon which she made her bed, pacing in a circle until her hindquarters did not want to stand, then spinning one more awkward circle, until she was a tight bundle. In the morning, there was snow. The namesake crickets of the bog did not sing (probably all dead from the cold), but when Miyax woke and stretched her travel-worn body, she was pleased by the sight of her own reflection in a pool of frosted water.

Some days ago he had found the bog. It had not proven very comfortable, but there was food aplenty if you had the stomach and knew where to look. Voodoo was disgusting enough, and so he was able to burrow into the frozen soil for hibernating turtles and frogs. It did not require near half as much energy as a regular hunt would, and he felt like he spent most of his days shivering, so he would cut corners where he would.

With his stomach full, Voodoo set out for the day, wandering half-aimlessly in search of his next meal or his next source of entertainment, whichever first came first. He came upon the latter first, a sight of white fur on white snow and the brown bog mud. For a moment he watched her from a distance, then approached wordlessly, sitting across the pool from her and merely watching.

It wasn't often that she looked upon herself; she saw nothing at first, just the bare outline of her face against the silver-blue of the open sky, then the flicker of her eyes reflected. A shadow shifted above her head and her attention shot away from the glassy surface, zero-ing in on the canine who settled nearby. She did not know how long he had been watching her. Curious nonetheless, Miyax stepped towards the boy — stretching out her hindquarters now as she went — and took up a position a wolf length closer. While she was sniffing at the air she looked away from him, as if interested in a message carried on the wind that did not pertain to her present company; but she gathered his scent as best she could, tasting the cold, and knowing him for the wild thing he was.

To say that Voodoo was graceless around the opposite sex would be too kind, and he realized with some trepidation that this was a girl. Not just that, but she was sort of pretty. At the very least he was nothing like him, all sharp edges and dark scraggly fur. She came near worldlessly, yet in the same movement looked away, feigning disinterest. Girls! he thought, and drew nearer as well, sniffing cautiously. She hadn't said anything yet, but she didn't seem to need to. She was expressive enough that thus far he understood her curiosity, and he was fairly certain she already had him all figured out. There wasn't much to learn, after all. From her scent he learned that she was alone. I'm Voodoo, he said nervously.

He spoke, but she did not seem to respond aside from the slight flick of an ear in his direction.

When she looked to him again, sniffing and curious, she decided on the spot that he looked ragged. His fur hung in clumps, and his belly sported the curve of adolescence as well as hunger. Or maybe it was only one or the other? Either way, to Miyax, the boy became Ragdoll.

By his posture and behavior, he seemed nervous. She picked up on this and murmured a soothing note towards him, batting her tail-tip, bending her head a little lower. I am not an enemy, she was saying. Do not be afraid. There was no reason for her to harm this boy — in fact, they'd be better suited as allies for the time being. The scent she'd caught had been something alive.

And with a switch of the wind, she caught it again. Her nose pointed away from Ragdoll and she took a moment to sniff and lift her nose high. Yes — there — a musky smell hidden by winter's biting cold. Miyax licked her lips and turned to watch the boy then, wondering if he had taken notice. Perhaps he was too hungry even to hunt?

The only answer he got to his introduction was a dismissive (to him) flick of the ear. He frowned, but didn't find himself as frustrated as he usually would be, because holy shit a girl. What's wrong with you, why aren't you talking? he asked, tone biting. Then, in an attempt to back track, whatever. D'you have a name? Man was he one smooth operator.

He watched her owlishly, taking in her demeanor- friendly, kind- and mirrored her posture. His nerves didn't die down, but what she had taken for fear was just sheer uncertainty. Because girl.

Miyax's distraction served to distract him as well, and Voodoo siezed the chance to A) spend more time with her and B) move on from his anxiety to a more favorable topic: food. He chuffed to catch her attention, then jerked his head in the direction of the wind, an invitation to hunt. And without waiting for her response, he stood and began trotting to his new destination.