Lake Rodney she’s worth more than she realizes

tags for reference!

as the world continued to roar and shake with its fury, praimfaya tries her best to ignore it — it is surprisingly easier now that they are upon flatground and she has true purpose. she knows the path cut out for her was not going to be easy — was never going to be easy even before blodreina's death but especially with blodreina's death. for now, as the only other one that truly understood their shared culture and ideals — roangeda was to be praimfaya's after all — it was largely up to her to do the recruiting. she was, to the wolves of the wilds she does not doubt, nothing more than a child.

the spirits of the commanders were truly testing her.

after letting @Ingram know she's going out and letting him know he could join her as setnes or stay in the fen if that was what he wished — she set off. weary of the still enraged earth, praimfaya does not go too far. she takes note that a pack has claimed the wood to the east of the fen but she stays to the lake's western side hoping that their neighbors — with plenty of no-man's-land and lake between them — were not going to be trouble.

even in the early throes of autumn the lake was still lively with brightly colored wildflowers, birch trees's leaves have begun to turn yellow with the young season taking hold praimfaya notes as she moves through the birches and sycamores and further still towards the water when hard earth gives way to pliable and sand that shifts underfoot. she recoils back in surprise, lifting her paw to study the grainy substance. chit yu gaf? praimfaya blurts aloud.

The rumblings of the earth were not limited to the Teekon Wild. Even she had felt them stirring in the south, and when a massive quake threatened the lives of the small pack she had been running with, it splintered to pieces. Miyax did not think twice about the wolves she had left behind. As loyal as she had been to them and as connected as she had been to them, her own wellfare came first. So when she felt the after-effects of another quake she started to run and did not stop unless she absolutely had to. 

It felt good to have the wind in her fur. Were it not for the burning in her lungs or the veiled panic that forced her to keep a dogged pace she would have enjoyed the sojourn to the north. It was like hunting—except she was the prey and it was the ground beneath her feet that wished to catch and bury her. By the time Miyax was at her physical limit she had crossed in to the Wilds and was lingering—and panting—within the safety of a forest. It did not occur to her that the forest might be more dangerous during this unstable moment in the terrain's history.

The cooling sensation of shadows as they crossed over her was welcomed. Her lungs ached; her heart was still thundering, the muscles of her fattened haunches giving an occasional quiver. There was no birdsong, and the thundering of the pulse in her ears served to overwhelm all other noises. As her pulse began to decrease and regulate she thought she heard something—but, being a primitive creature, she did not link the sounds to words. Still, it was something new to focus on and Miyax was eager to move on with her life.

Perhaps it was food? Or merely her imagination. Either way, she began to sniff the earth and root around among the sycamores for signs of life.

though briefly — and embarrassingly — baffled by the sandy lake beach praimfaya's usually so carefully crafted composure is swept away by confusion and a bit of childish wonder she is quick to snatch it back and place the armor she has surrounded herself with back into place. spirits, she is worlida and future wanheda of roangeda ...she needed to act like it, she chides herself. she swipes her paw on the grass in a thinly veiled attempt to rid it of clinging grains of sand and to her dismay does not entirely succeed. for the most part it works and for now that is enough.

it is only then, as praimfaya's frostbound silver gaze studies the lake in search of a clearer path towards the lakewaters that does not involve her trudging through sand, that she hears the sounds of another. over the angry and wrathful warcry of the earth deep within its bowels she hears the sound of something forging, of claws scraping against earth — searching, she presumes — and assuming that it is prey she foregoes her own search and alters her path to investigate.

disappointment floods praimfaya as she comes upon the pallid woman, and though it shows in the small droop of her shoulders she is quick to steel them a heartbeat later. hei. praimfaya calls out to her in greeting, leaving plenty of distance between them, wary of strangers without her setnes at her back.

I think I did my math right, and the guidebook mentions a juvenile is equivalent of an 11 year old, so I hope this makes sense.

A creature does surface eventually. It should not have surprised Miyax that it was another wolf, but she stops her scouring of the earth to lift her head and watch them move. They are careful. They are quick too, but that is more out of necessity—she realizes the figure is a very young wolf. They remind her in a flash of being younger and of roaming with her siblings, but it is gone just as quickly as it comes. This is not a wolf she knows and young or not, she is not sure how to face it.

The wolf calls out with a sound and does not advance any closer, giving Miyax ample space to contend with. She does not wonder where the youth's mother is; it is not so uncommon for wolves to branch away from their natal packs and so Miyax does not question that aspect of the encounter. She reaches closer with a craning neck, a half-step, to gather information from the wind. Not much has been offered to her. The girl looks to be healthy, and is suitably wary of strangers. The sound she utters is meaningless to Miyax and the woman isn't known for being vocal, so it is accepted with an almost bored glimpse towards the lake, and that is all.

Miyax raises her head ever so slightly and breathes deep of the crisp air, tasting the scents with a subtle drop of her jaw, and then she begins to stride towards the lake. She is thirsty, but above that she is hungry, and her company is not enough of a threat to make her change her behavior. One ear pivots towards the girl as Miyax crosses the loam and she whisks her tail in an inviting arc, her posture welcoming as she advances. If the girl is also hungry then perhaps they could help one another.

the pallid woman does not respond — at least not verbally — as praimfaya calls out to her and for a moment, the young worlida struggles with confliction as she ponders whether to be affronted by the bored look she gets in return or not. no one has ever looked at her as if she were as boring as a leaf skittering across the ground before; but before praimfaya can feel too offended the woman's tail gestures in an inviting movement with a posture that is welcoming.

praimfaya ponders this, too, wondering how bored can shift from inviting so quickly and if she should be more cautious. praimfaya isn't used to the verbal silence that the woman eludes, and though she would not admit it finds it a bit uncomfortable. can you speak? praimfaya inquires as she draws nearer to the woman with careful and calculated steps, unable to help the low burn of curiosity that breathes to life, initial discomfort aside. it only occurs to praimfaya afterwords that perhaps that question was insensitive for though the woman bears not throat scars upon a scan of the worlida's frostbound silver gaze, that doesn't mean there aren't scars unseen. perhaps she is mute, praimfaya thinks and be it by birth, by injury, or by choice praimfaya offers a soft if not sheepishly apologetic expression for her prying. all the while, never once pausing to consider that her words would not be understood.