Cerulean Cape farewell and adieu to you spanish ladies

all welcome so hop on in y'all

She had reached the sea. Along the way, it had seemed like an incredibly important journey, but now that she was here, she felt. . .nothing. The rushing of the ocean echoed in her empty heart, reverberating off the walls of the skull that held her damaged mind. She came across a beach that must be beautiful and warm in the summer; during the birth of winter, it seemed merely bleak.

With a huff, Snowe lay down, her stomach rumbling. She had managed to snatch up a rabbit she had scared into falling down the cliffs near the foot of the mountains, thus breaking its neck. But a rabbit was merely a snack for a wolf, and she lay her head morosely on her paws, trying to ignore the protests of her belly.

Her conversation with Samothes yesterday had disheartened her. When she had awoke atop that mountain, she had known something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out why. Now, upon reflection, she knew she had met with a terrible force of nature--but she didn't know what. Had she been attacked by another wolf, or some other predator? Had she tumbled from a great height and knocked herself out?

And her fur. . .her beautiful, lustrous ebony fur. Or, at least, it once had been that way. Snowe knew she could not have been born with patchy fur like a fledgling, even less fur that had been clearly burned.

The memories that had flitted through her mind on the mountain were growing a little stronger now, but all they seemed to be were fragments: the feeling of being at her mother's teat, suffused with warmth and milk. Or the playful glint in her littermates' eyes, still blue with youth. Nothing to help her identify herself--her name, her family, her place in the world.

Snowe let out a tearless sob, clenching her eyes shut in frustration. Had it always been this way? Was she doomed to forever feel utterly, hopelessly alone?

The first frost neared, she felt, and worked quickly to secure as many herbs as possible before winter destroyed them. It would come any day now, and while the herbs she kept cached at the base of a chared sequoia were sizable, she would have to be careful with them; for she knew not how long the northern winters lasted. 

She came across the burnt girl sometime around midday, watching her by the sea. There was something distinctly wrong with the girl, her fur riddles with charred markings the healer could sea even at a distance. Thelxiope breathed a sigh, turning and trotting briskly down the shore. The sea lion was where she had left it, her arrival sending a cloud of ravens bursting into the salted air. She ripped from the carcass a sizable chunk of flesh and hide, moving back the way she had come. The girl she approached slowly, feathery tail swaying behind her, ears canted back in passive friendliness. 

She dropped the flesh before the girl, gaze roaming over her fur, scared and patchwork and traced with lines of charred flesh. "you must eat, to build your strength."  The sea-witch murmured, mind working at the curiosity before her. She had decided that fire was not the culprit, rather, the lacerations and burnt flesh cut through the girl's fur in a jagged pattern, a fire would leave different wounds. A single lobe canted towards the girl, curious, at what fate had befallen her.

A silvery form appeared before her, tail swishing in the ocean breeze. And holding in her jaws. . .oh, my. The succulent scent swept up and into her nostrils, filling her mouth suddenly with saliva. The woman dropped it before her, and said something--Snowe couldn't make it out, for hunger had taken over her senses, but she surmised that the stranger was offering it to her.

With a shuddering, "T-thanks," Snowe bent her head and began to devour the meat, tangy with salt and fat. The wolf known as Miyako would have been too proud, too stubborn, to accept this offering. But Snowe did not know Miyako from anyone, and she was starving.

Barely chewing, she gobbled up the food and licked the remnants from her lips and jaws, panting slightly from her efforts. She looked up at this newest savior, eyes full of gratitude. She must be a kind woman, to help a stranger like this. It was cold, and Snowe didn't know how much prey was available in this place.

"Thanks," Snowe repeated, a little steadier now that she had eaten. She lifted herself to a sitting position and regarded the silver female, head cocked curiously. "Who. . .are you?"

She ate with a vigour that did not entirely surprise the witch, with injuries as fresh and severe as her own, it was obvious that the girl could not have hunted for herself very well. The shore was a good place for scavengers; the sea offered up bodies every so often. A circling erne over the sea lion she had left behind was evidence of this, the birds took very good care of the offerings of the sea. 

She repeated her thanks, after which she posed a question. "I am Thelxiope; healer. And you?" The woman's burns seem almost-familiar to the sea-witch, reminiscent of a tale told by her mentor. She had spoken of the burning fang that fell from the sky, of lightning, and how it took the life of any it struck. She had shown her a tree, once, dead and charred amongst its vibrant brethern, and explained the cause of its death. Lighting, she had been told, took a soul and scattered it amongst the elements. But she had never heard of one surviving the sky's bolts, but the woman before her might be evidence of it. "What fate befell you, néos?" She asked softly, wondering if her thoughts bore truth.

"I'm Snowe," she said simply, with a nod. A name she had given herself, for lack of another. She hadn't stopped to think that the name did not fit--it was completely at odds with her black pelt--but she liked it all the same. It felt warm and familiar on her tongue.

Here we go again. This wolf. . .Thelxiope, what a name. . .was asking what had happened. Snowe shook her head ruefully, unable to give her a satisfactory answer.

"Dunno," she murmured. "Woke up like this." She gave the woman a long look. Thelxiope seemed wise. Perhaps she could tell Snowe what fate had befallen her.

"D'you. . .think you know?" Another question rose in her mind as she remembered the strange thing she had called her. "What's nee-os?"

Deciding that the girl did not see her as a threat, as many wounded wolves might, she sat on her angular haunches, gaze calculating, but warm. Her name seemed to be at odds with her pelt; it was a simple thing, and she wondered briefly how she had come to be named so. Her gaze furrowed as the girl claimed to have simply woken up like this,  something she did not doubt but intrigued her. No memory of the incident seemed odd, as well as her faltering speech and the weakness she noted now. 

She hummed a thoughtful note before replying, voice thoughtful. "I was taught that lighting will strike living things, rarely, leave them dead and with scars like yours." She paused a moment before continuing, "you are very much alive, however. if you were truly struck, I do not know how you came to live."  She appeared very ordinary, at first glance, and yet there must be extraordinary about her. Perhaps, she had won the favour of the universe, or held some quality that saved her. At the girl's next question, she offered a small smile that softened the sharp angles of her face. "it is an affectionate title, in my tongue." Her muzzle canted in question, and she asked, "where did you wake? had you a pack, a home?"  The girl seemed addled, perhaps she was lost. She knew that head injuries could cause such a state, but knew almost nothing of the effects of lightning.

"Lightning?" The word was at first unfamiliar, but as she spoke it, an image rose in her mind of a bright flash in a dark storm, striking down to earth in a jagged white line. Lightning. She had seen it many a time--where, she did not know. But she was at least familiar with the concept. "Oh. Yeah. Lightning."

But then Thelxiope explained that lightning killed its victims. How, then, did she come to live? Could it have been a glancing blow, or a weak beam? Or was she simply. . .lucky? I don't feel lucky, she thought sadly.

And here she was, asking Snowe about where she came from. She shook her head again, but turned it toward the mountains this time. "Woke up on a mountain over there. Came down here to the beach. Met another wolf along the way. . ." She struggled for the name, coming up with it a moment later. "Samothes. That's all I remember."

Snowe sighed, her chest clenching with emotion. "I know this can't be it. I remember. . .things. From long ago. My. . .mom. Being a kid. But nothing that would help me know. . .who I am."

A tear slipped from her eye, sluicing through the black fur on her cheek. "Don't even know my real name. I just. . .made up Snowe. Because it was snowing when I woke up." She broke into another sob, dipping her head in utter dismay. She wanted everything to be okay again. She wanted everything to be normal.

She fell silent for a beat, though the name the woman utters brings a smile to her muzzle. Of course, it would be him. She did not interrupt, however, the girl finishing her story and breaking into sobs. Perhaps it is her weakness that has her appear young, but some maternal instinct in the witch stirs, and she sets her muzzle lightly on the forehead of the girl. She is empathetic; to lose one's past must be terrifying. 

She pulls back, regarding the girl warmly. "if you would allow me, I may help you." She says. the other made without much thought. The girl offers an opportunity to learn, as well as an opportunity to help and to heal; what she has been trained to do. "the mind is a fragile thing; yet it can be mended." She knows little, truly, but enough to know that peace and stability is vital. Samothes and his Ravenblood may very well offer that.

Help. This woman was offering help.

It is, again, something Miyako would have flatly refused. Fiercely independent, she would have insisted she was fine, that she could go it alone. But Snowe knew none of this. All she knew was that someone wanted to help her--and she desperately needed help.

"What're you thinking?" Snowe asked, a little timidly. The offer to help, after all, could mean anything from simple friendship to some complicated form of witchcraft. She would be grateful for a warm place to sleep, but she wasn't sure she wanted Thelxiope doing spells on her.

At the same time, beggars could not be choosers.

When the girl voiced her question, the woman was silent a beat. She had learned quickly after leaving her family that references to spells and legends were often scorned or laughed at, and won her nothing. She had learned to be practical, to practise her own belief quietly and keep them well hidden. To avoid exploring the unknown, and stick to terms of what was commonly known instead. "the wounds on your pelt are relatively simple; basic herbs will heal them quickly. your mind, your memories are more difficult. for them; stability, rest. perhaps..." Here she trailed off a moment, before continuing, "as one would exercise a weak limb, perhaps one can too exercise a mind." The latter idea will need some further thought, but she lays her offer clear on the table, regarding the girl. She can hardly refuse help; they both know this, though Thelxiope hopes to prove that her intent is good.

Her eyes narrowed a little, though from confusion rather than menace, as she stared back at Thelxiope. Exercise a mind. Was it possible to regain her lost memory through simple exercise? What would she have to do? Learn history? Recite words in different languages?

Despite her confusion, Snowe nodded shakily, going along with it for now. "And I'm assumin' you know how to do these. . .exercises," she responded, trying not to sound dryly skeptical as she spoke the last word.

Her mind was still quite foggy, but Snowe felt as if she was starting to piece together an identity again. Like gathering shards of a shattered rock, pressing them together to make them whole once more. Her speech patterns were growing a bit clearer; her attitude improving from where it had started upon awakening, which was simply and hopelessly lost.

Snowe knew that she had once been complete, and she felt now that she could be so again, with time. Perhaps Thelxiope, and whatever she had in mind, could hasten the road to normalcy.