Sequoia Coast because i could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me

Back dated to the evening of the 12th.

It had been a tightness in her chest that pulls away from the mountain. Each night held a new dream, more detailed than the last, but they had not been satisfied with the decision to send Gavriel and Gyda off. It will hurt their numbers, but only temporarily, and their communication with their other branch will be much easier. The trip to Trigeda is long and tiring and a stop between the two will be beneficial, in the long run. She does not expect them to form before the brunt of winter but returning to Trigeda before it hits them all will keep them safe until the time is warmer and their claim can be made.

The dreams did not stop, returning the night of their departure something wicked and her first thought had been to tell the fleima but she brushes the thought off, knowing the girl is not ready for such a heavy responsibility, and she finds herself near the coast.

Thuringwethil stares out at the depths for a long while, watching wave after wave roll in to greet her. Everything about the ocean calls to her and there is a peacefulness she has not felt in sometime. Her feet are tired and her legs are weary and her skin feels the bite of the wind as it comes to shore. She narrows her eyes and steps closer, so that the water touches her feet at its longest reach. It would be easy to step in and let the ocean wash her away so that she may feel this peace like this forever and the pull of her mind, of her wolves, hold on a little bit tighter.

It was hard to leave Deirdre, who was her blood and soul-- but it was harder still to leave the ocean. The calming ebb and flow of its waves on the shoreline were like her heartbeat, and to separate herself from it felt like she was flatlining. But Emaleth felt her destiny would be away from the shore, for how could she know the world if she refused to stray from what she knew? From what comforted her?

She would take her time saying farewell, and so moved along the shore with a meditative gait. When the sight of a dark figure interrupted the smoothness of the lapping waves against the sand, Emaleth paused, briefly wondering if she were looking at a future version of herself. A vision. Her guard hairs rose, but she made no sound, nor did her posture grow threatening. "Hello?" she called tentatively.

As she stands there lost in thought—almost as if she is dreaming—she hears the sound of another. She does not move right away. If she were to turn, she fears she might find herself snapping back to reality and at the dragon once more. It has been a home to her for some time but perhaps she has made a mistake this whole time. She’s pulled back for a moment to the call of sacrifice, to remove the crown to the next successor, but Thuringwethil knew she was not ready to let go of the helm. She may have brought them all together here, in the Wilds, but it is certainly not the same and as she stands in front of the great beast at her paws, she does not feel the guilt.

It is a moment later that Heda eventually turns to look at another dark in color. Her form is petite and young and Thuringwethil thinks of the generation Drageda has brought, to continue to carry on their name. A shiver runs the length of her spine but she stiffens her posture and turns the rest of her weight so that she may face the stranger. Thuringwethil does not speak but she does nod her head once in greeting. She does not stand on land she claims, even if she feels the ocean belongs to her in some ways, and so she tries to ease some of her position. If the other is to remain, she will not dissuade her but there remains little to be read in their distance.

Emaleth was no more comforted by the nod of the voiceless stranger, for this felt startlingly like the visions her father had spoken of so often in her youth. The sight often presented itself to those much younger than herself, but perhaps in the wake of Lasher's death, she had been stifling her gifts— Deirdre had said this was so, and perhaps one of those gifts were visions and the ability to divine meanings from them... and then the dark witch nearly laughed at her own stupidity. The dark silhouette was not her future self, but the long-awaited vision of Taltos— come finally to direct her, now that she had rejected the ill-fitted path that had awaited her within Donnelaith.

Without hesitation, Emaleth began to run toward him, "Fa—" but the sound died in her throat, and her paws ceased to churn sand as she realized with crushing disappointment that the wolf before her was wholly real. She swallowed her grief, hard, and took several paces backward— knowing her rapid approach had likely put the other on edge.

"I'm sorry," she explained swiftly. "I mean no harm, I just... I thought you were someone else."

It is not long before the other canine is rushing toward her. Her ears drop against her head and she picks one foot up to step backward, the twinge of protecting herself begin to turn gears. The first few seconds, Thuringwethil feels herself slip away but there is a jarring halt when the other comes to a stop and retreats a step or two in reverse with an apology pouring from her lips. Fire teases her nerves and she does her best to unclench every muscle. When she is able to piece together all the information, Thuringwethil dips her head once in understanding.

“Who are you looking for?” she asks, taking a long stride forward but with enough distance that it isn’t too weird. Whomever the other is looking for, perhaps she can give a hand—if only to give her mind something else to focus on—and a purpose to still be by the shore for a while longer.

"It was silly of me," Emaleth responded with a sheepish shake of her head, as soon as it was clear that the other would not retaliate against her foolish charge. In truth, she did not want to admit to a perfect stranger that she thought she had seen her deceased father. Some might understand, but her various journeys away from Donnelaith told the youth that not many wolves believed in magick and the supernatural the way that she and her sister did— indeed, there were some of her own blood that did not.

"I come from Donnelaith," she offered, in an effort to change the subject. Emaleth wasn't ready to disclose that she wouldn't be returning to the forest, just in case this strange she-wolf were to turn upon a lone child. "My name is Emaleth."

It seems a little strange to Thuringwethil but she does not press for information. Perhaps the answer isn’t meant to be and so she waits, instead, to hear the introduction. The name triggers a memory from months prior and her ears drop against her head. It has been a long time since she thought of Lucani and feeling the surge now makes her feel compelled to ask but she keeps her jaws shut. The meeting had been brief that she had seen her last with her new leader but she brushes it off as best as she can and straightens her shoulders a little tighter.

“I am Thuringwethil, from Drageda,” she introduces. “Donnelaith is down the coast a ways, yes?” It had been some time since she’d gone that far south, just across the river that separated the coast. Thuringwethil hadn’t gone any further south to see where the pack may be but she knows the distance is greater than she could easily travel at length from her home.

Emaleth was silently grateful that the other did not press her for more information about the wolf she had been mistaken for. Too late, she realized that she could have simply said, 'my father', and moved on— but Lasher's ties spread far across the world. Who knew him, and who did not? Of those who knew him, how many knew that he had passed? She felt grief threaten to wake from its deep slumber, and thrust it back down as the older woman spoke. She could not glean anything from the adjustment of the woman's posture but decided to be more forthright in their conversations going forward so that the error of the first impression she had left would be forgotten.

"Yes," she agreed, "it is the tall forest of sequoias to the south, neighboring the bay taken by Blackrock Depths." Emaleth wanted to add, but we were there first, but decided against it. Spitefulness was a wasted emotion. "From where do you hail?" she questioned, instead. "I've never been this far north before, though I've lived my entire life on the coast."

The forest sounds like a nice place but bit of information that catches her attention is the neighboring territory. One next to another, so close, seems a little strange but she doesn’t press for more. Instead, the question is turned upon her and she licks her lips once before answering.

“Further inland, on a mountain. We neighbor a glacier on the other side of a river,” she explains. “But I was born on the coast, several weeks travel north of here. We moved south last winter,” she adds with no interest of spilling the details to a total stranger. The young woman is kind enough, and she does not feel threatened, but the information is better left unsaid in the wake of the unknown.

"I decided to leave," she told the other abruptly. "Donnelaith is led by my sister, Deirdre, and she forged an alliance with our neighbors. It seems unnatural to me." Emaleth's brows furrowed as she wondered what compelled her to share this— it had been a long time since she had felt able to confide such things to anyone. Perhaps it was her youth and naivety that caused her to see no harm in it, or perhaps it was mere loneliness. "But she is my sister. I could not challenge her, and Donnelaith would not survive a war against them. We are not warriors." She supposed, in that statement, she had determined why her pale sister had made such a bond... but Emaleth couldn't help but wonder, had Constantine and Aria remained, if they would have survived after all.

Thuringwethil tucks the information away in the background. The limited knowledge she has from last seeing Lucani isn’t enough to form an idea of what is further down the coast. Already at risk and far from Sleeping Dragon, she doesn’t wish to further put herself at risk. It is another detail that catches her attention and her head tilts in curiosity. The girl before her seems young, and if the woman she speaks of is her twin, the same age. Her eyes narrow briefly before she straightens out a little. “If you need a home,” she tells her with one swish of her tail.

Fading, if that's okay, and mentioning something about Thuringwethil telling her how to find her again, since you mentioned that in a later thread. <3

"I'll think about it," Emaleth responded, genuine. She tucked the information about Drageda's whereabouts away, certainly intrigued. The woman before her looked to be a warrior or at least what the young Mayfair imagined they would look like. In her desire to leave Donnelaith far behind, the yearling couldn't think of anything more appropriate than joining a pack that was the polar opposite— and, of course, far removed from the alliance she so mistrusted. But it had been only a short time since she had left the Sentinels, and after being so tied to a place, the youth wasn't quite ready to commit to someplace else just yet. "Thank you," she finished.

It was a brief meeting, and yet both were eager to be on their separate ways. Still, as they parted, the warrior woman told Emaleth how she might find her again if she were not upon the mountain near the glacier. This confused the Mayfair, but she did not think hard on it— perhaps Thuringwethil preferred scouting, rather than leaving it to her underlings. She nodded a final acknowledgement, and then moved on.