Moonspear a moving tale

The Netherwoods

She was quick to take the reigns on her duty, the same she did within her maiden pack, and the same she did with Morningside- patrolling. If one couldn't find Desdemona anywhere, one could always find her patrolling around the territory, being as wary and protective, and the always desire to feel useful. She did not like the feeling of standing and doing nothing, idling around waiting for an act to approach, she preferred to keep her body in motion, her muscles active and mind focused.

It was only her second day, but she was quick on her feet, but slew away from the more social activities, yet to meet any except the Cerberus. However she only met them due to previous circumstances, if it weren't for that, she wouldn't know anybody. Social cues were not her speciality, and dark woman refrained from the gossiping females and brawly lads, preferring the solitude of the forest.

So she circled the borders, memorizing each step, finding the shortcuts, and especially watching her steps. A spider will weave her web to be more comfortable within the unknown land.

He had been doing his best for so, so long. The famine had stripped him of muscle but in lieu of a body that functioned well, he'd found Hydra and her pack, and their aid kept him alive through the worst of it. He'd made a name for himself (at least in the queen's eyes) as a tenacious creature hell-bent on survival; hunting when he had the energy, defending Moonspear where possible. Tye had fought against fate and remade himself: no longer the omega at the mercy of the pack.

But that could only last so long. Winter was here, the famine had ended, but he had not recovered. His need for the approval of the queen drove him to the borders, where he lurked, he hungered, and he did his very best to impress. The mountain was not a forgiving place to the skeletal boy and all of the stress of his short life soon caught up to him.

So while the newcomer Desdemona trailed along the territory limits, she crossed (and re-crossed) the path once held by Tye; whether she knew it or not, she traced his final steps. The path he'd forged through the snow had since been hidden by fresh layers of white, but if she kept on the path... Eventually she would come to a dark crevasse in the stone. It was big enough for his coiled body — and in life, that gap had filled with the heat of that puny body.

In death, there was nothing to him — but should Desdemona find the serpentine shape of his compacted self, she'd spy the dull gold of his squinting eyes.

An endless trail, she would continue the cycle till the night would hit, and she would retreat to a slumber. A track many had take- and some it would be there last. Dark paws trenched onwards, but her jaden eyes couldn't help but wander. She thought she saw life, something hidden away. A stone, enough for one to hide in, even someone as lithe as herself, could crawl in for a night of dreams. Though for now, she was unwelcomed, for another had taken it's final breathe within it's crevice.

Desdemona took a step back, and traced her eyes around, for a second not believing what had been found. Beautiful golden eyes could be seen, but so lifeless, it was a shame for who they belonged to, as it was someone without a life. She didn't know who it was- for she had not been in Moonspear for long. On her second day, did the wolfess find a body of a previous packmate.

Who was she to call, for whose son, or husband this was? The charcoal beauty howled out, to anyone to head her call. To the Ceberus, @Hydra, @Lyra, @Alya, the only one's she knows, and who may know the stranger in the rock is.

Hydra had not been near to the call when it sounded, but alerted Desdemona she had heard and was on her way with an answering song of her own that would no doubt tell the she-wolf of her distance as well. Hydra moved swiftly nonetheless, moving over, and sometimes through (when she must), freshly fallen snow. Though it took some time for her to arrive, when she did Hydra greeted the other with a chuff; but it did not take long for Hydra to determine something was amiss. 

Were it not for the scent her keen nose picked up on, it would soon have been the sight of Tye sequestered in the crevice that her sharp eyes would have found. With a low whine, Hydra moved onto her belly and inched toward her subordinate to investigate more thoroughly the situation. Death was the smell, and yet her heart refused to believe it yet. It was only once her inky nose felt the cold feel of his skin that she understood nature had stolen from her yet another precious thing.

Hydra lay with him for a moment, letting the silence that befell them linger respectfully as she gazed into those lifeless eyes. These eyes—it had been these expressive things that caused Hydra to see he had life yet within him. A spirit that did not fit the weak body he possessed when he came upon them. She had high hopes for him; her heart ached to think she would not be able to see them come to life, no thanks to his death. 

She inched her way backward mutely, pushing herself to a seated position as she stared at the space he occupied; one ear pivoted toward Desdemona. He had been very weak when he came to us, she shared, I had hoped foolishly he could recover here. Perhaps I was cruel to do so, she wondered aloud, gaze shifting toward Desdemona as she finished in her low drawl, I prolonged this moment. It must have been inevitable, she murmured. I had hoped it was not. Had she caused him to suffer longer for hope? Ah! She wished that thing would die within her; let it rest finally with Tye.

"He was one of us," the dame re-confirmed the Alpha's statement. A weakend soul coming forth to Moonspear as a haven for himself, and even had the hope of the Alpha. It had yet been a week and she met one newer packmate, but would also be the last time she would see this male of an unknown name.

"He had tried," Desdemona started, "so did you," her jaden gaze wandered toward him "but now nature will let him live in peace." She did not know how to console, for there seemed to be regret within the Queen, but was unsure if remorse followed with. Only a few words, could she share. Survival of the fittest, she thought. While they tried, the weak would always perish, as the laws of the land so say. The bastardly wolf thought the words she said within would be inappropriate to speak out-loud, and only hung her head a bit low for condolences to the passing soul.

Hydra listened to Desdemona and heard it to be true. 

But as she looked to the sallow form of Tye, Hydra knew if she ever saw a spirit like his again she would do much the very same as she had done now. He had not for a moment been a waste; if she had a regret in this, it was the thought of his suffering throughout. A swift death was always better than a long one... but she had given him one more chance. A chance he, too, fought for. 

His name was Tye, Hydra informed Desdemona, her eyes turning to her subordinate. He fought for us on one occasion, for food; alongside me, she remembered fondly. And so as her gaze turned to him once more, Hydra did not withhold the mourning keen as she howled to Moonspear to alert all of his unfortunate passing. He was gone, but he would never be forgotten by Hydra. Indeed, Desdemona's words had been a comfort; now, at least, he would know peace.

end? gonna leave open a bit incase anyone else wants to visit

"A warrior to the end." While never meeting him, anyone for Hydra to remember was someone worthy, she thought. The Queen was a primal wolf, one who did not back down easily toward the weakened mind, or body, and those who caught her interest surely held similar ways. Jaden eyes wondered to Tye, the male who slipped into the whole and passed on. Perhaps in the afterlife, if such existed, they would meet above the Moonspear's clouds.

Desdemona listened in silence to the mourning howl, and let the final moments be before it would be time to give a proper burial.

yeah! this can count as a fader when you archive if so <3

 

Hydra agreed entirely; Tye was gone, but he would not be forgotten. A reminder of the famines cruelty; to not overextend. If they had more children to feed, more than him might have died... or perhaps the children themselves if no one could hunt for them. But he had helped as best he could. When her call died, Hydra looked to Desdemona and offered: patrol with me? 

The snows would bury these rocks, and Tye with it; his bones would become one with the earth, a Moonspearian for eternity.