Wapun Meadow i'm ready to blow, i can't stand it

@Nunataq

He finds himself more or less aimlessly wandering through Easthollow's neighboring meadow, trying to ignore the aching familiarity of the area. He's probably an idiot for trying to make a new start in relatively the same area he's been in for the last year, but... the Sanctuary moved. They're not here anymore — so all that's holding him back is his own mind, right? And he can overcome that. He can... probably.
He pauses near the creek snaking through the center of the territory, shivering slightly as the wind picks up. The overcast sky and the faint sound of running water make it seem colder than it really is, he thinks — or maybe he's just trying to talk himself out of shaking like a leaf. It works, sort of. At least, until the clouds shift briefly to allow the sun to peer through, and the scant light flashes silver over the rippling surface of the creek, and suddenly he remembers how much he misses Delight and he's cold and tired and sad all over again. All he can do is sit down and resign himself to a day full of angst.

Since the month, when ghosts freely roam the Earth, is coming to an end, let's have a bit of a spooky adventure, shall we? The sad and lonely man would not dwell on his troubles for much longer, because his arrival has awoken the resident meadow monster, that had been sleeping soundly not too far off in a dug out pit. Nunataq, who has favored to play around with camouflage lately, is wearing her newest attire made of mud, grass, rotting seaweeds and has masked her scent with the dead fish she had found on the banks of a small river. Though - as for the latter - masked would not be the right word. How one can explain the horrible odour of rotting fish in the middle of meadow, far from any waterways?

We will leave this for the sad man to dwell upon, because the girl, hidden from the sight, observes the agouti wolf man quietly with a predatory glint in her eyes. He could be a good target, he could. The pit is not too deep, but it is long and it alows her to move stealthily along it's edge to have a better look at the possible prey, and accidentally exhales just a bit too loudly to make the other aware that he is not alone.

Of all things, it's a strange smell that draws him from his thoughts — or, maybe strange isn't quite the way to describe it. His nose wrinkles automatically at the garbage-and-rotten-fish scent suddenly permeating the area; he can't tell if that's a faint wolf scent mixed in or if he's imagining it. He's... probably imagining it. He can't imagine any wolf would be okay with smelling like that.
Just as he decides he's definitely still alone (unless a horrible smell counts as company), a soft huff somewhere behind him draws his attention back to his surroundings. His ears perk, one turning slightly, and for a beat he's frozen. The smell is still pretty strong, and — there is someone there, isn't there? Or something. He rises to his feet and turns fully, a little too wary to call out just yet, and surveys the area. He can't see anything yet, but his skin prickles as if he isn't quite alone.

Nunataq presses herself to the ground the moment man's gaze passes right over the place she is hiding at. She is unaware that the stench has already given herself away, except her target has no idea, who wears it. For a moment or two she holds her breath to blend better with the surroundings and have him think that he has been mistaken before that yet again he is on his own. Because she needs a plan on, what to do now.

Remaining hidden and stalking him would be one thing that would boost her patience, but Nuna is not one, who deals well with boredom. Not at all. Therefore she decides for doing something. Attacking outright would not be a good thing, she is still a child in adult's body and has respect for the elders. Something harmless, but spooky enough could do - and as this idea enters her mind, she prepares herself for action, waits until the man looks away and with a half-bark-half-roar springs out of her hiding place and lunges for a spot right next to him with an intent to scare.

He stays perfectly still as he searches for the source of the sound, and surely that awful smell — but it's quiet now, and he can't see anything. He starts to wonder if it's his mind playing tricks on him again; barring the weird experience when he'd been sick, it's been awhile now since that has happened to him. But maybe he shouldn't dismiss that experience. Maybe it'd triggered something within him, and now he's going crazy just like he always —
His thoughts are interrupted by a small dark shape launching toward him, and a brief yelp slips from him as he scrambles backward. It takes him a moment to register that it's another wolf, but his alarm only fades by fractions upon recognizing the youth's features. What the fuck? He doesn't even have the presence of mind to feel bad for cursing at the girl; were it not for the eyes, he would swear he's staring at some kind of reincarnation of — her. He doesn't quite think of her in words or some ill-fitting name of his own choosing — more the way one might recall a feeling. The mute woman of the wilds; beautiful, feral, untouchable and unknowable. It's been a long time since he's thought about her, and now here she is, staring at him with the wrong eyes from a body far too young. It's more than a little unsettling.
The shock wears off after a few moments, and guilt starts to set in, but he's still on edge. He wants to say something else — maybe apologize for cussing? But the words evade him, so he stares instead.

Nunataq's quest to scare the wits out of the man is succesful - fear is evident in his expression, when he first catches sight of her and utters something unintelligible to her. She shoots him a villainous grin in response and makes an enthusiastic lap of victory by running in a big loop around him, pieces of dirt falling off from her coat and the stench of fish engulfing him from all directions (or so she hopes that it happens).

Finally the girl comes to a halt within arm's length (almost), but far enough to flee, in case the man has become sour for her little act moments before. She measures him with her gaze, then moves downwards in whole body cat-like stretch and finishes her introduction by sitting down and giving the reins of the situation to the man.

He's too startled to do much as the girl runs in a circle around him, intensifying the awful smell she's giving off — it's obvious by now that it's her, watching the dirty fly off her as she runs. He half-expects her to simply flee now that she's gone and scared the shit out of him, but instead she halts after completing her lap around him. Um, He blinks, watching her stretch and wondering if she's as mute as her older, stark-eyed doppelganger. Can she even understand him? Do you... talk? It would feel like a rude question, normally — but he kind of gets the feeling the answer is no, and that he might not get an answer, so he doesn't feel that bad.

It's odd really, how people tend to make quick assumptions about those, who are born different. Nunataq was mute, her brain lacked the ability to comprehend spoken language or form words, but this did not mean that she would have any less opportunities as other people. Anyone, who had spent time alongside her, realized that not only was she an individual with a complex personality that went through the same emotional spectrum as any other verbal person (moreso now that she was few steps away from being a grown up), but also that her world was rich and colorful in such a way that others could not imagine. It was often that the girl moved through life with that aura of having a precious secret that no one else could see or reveal.

She communicated with others in a very simple manner, her body was her main instrument and her keen mind added the necessary essence to each movement, to each facial expression according to the situation. Nunataq was incapable of lying, she was bluntly honest to everyone, hardly ever did she attempt to hide her emotions or pretend to be anything else than, what she was feeling, thinking and being at any given moment. For this reason she expected the same level of honesty from all, who were around her, because, while people could easily hide their intentions behind well-chosen words, their body language, their gestures and facial features never lied. And Nunataq had yet to meet a true master of lies, who could fool her.

While everyone just like Alarian wondered, if Nunataq could speak, she wondered, why people even wasted time doing it. Though she did not roll her eyes in response to this inquiry, her manner of treating this man did change - a sympathetic look in her eyes, a knowing smile and a small sigh - she obviously pitied this man, who had put a boundary of words between him and the rest of the world. And therefore he had missed the opportunity of taking the position of the game-maker that he had been so kindly offered. The girl sprang to her feet and with a growlish war-cry aimed to nip at his flank and then quickly rebound out of reach to prepare for another playful attack, if the man turned out to be too slow to intercept her.

i'm so sorry for the wait! want to wrap this up?

Many things cross his mind in these moments, though none of them are anything close to his companion's thoughts; he makes no assumptions, and he remains rather blissfully oblivious to those the girl makes about him. Instead he's lost in marveling at the strange coincidences of the world, recalling his experiences with the feral woman this girl resembles so much. He's so distracted he hardly notices the sigh or the sympathetic look, and his attention returns to the present about half a second too late to fully register the girl's sudden approach until she's upon him. Hey! He protests the nip, taking a couple steps back even as she retreats. Part of him feels guilty, but he's in no mood to play right now; he hasn't been in that sort of mood in a long time, and he's certain it will be longer yet before it comes again. If it ever does — maybe he's just outgrown happiness in general.

Nunataq's assault was succesful, but the man seemed to be more annoyed and surprised by this rather than inclined to do something as useful as playing with her. She would have wanted him to give into a chase and maybe engage in a playfight, but the longer she studied him, the clearer it got to her that this was not the kind of person.

She let out a disappointed sigh, yipped at him that could either be interpreted as "hey" or "moron", or both and then dashed off to look for another victim.