Silverlight Terrace it has wealth and gold, but it's fragile and old

Weejay had never stopped running. She didn't care that Eljay would yell at her later, or that maybe her family needed her in this hour -- she was too consumed with grief, and fumbling, cried as she made her way through the wildwood into unknown territory.

Only once she was truly exhausted did she cease her running. Too exhausted to take mind of her surroundings, Weejay collapsed into a bundle by a fallen tree and sequestered herself under the tree's backside. There, her form was hidden, but any attentive wolf nearby would hear the muffled cries that managed their way into the cold evening air.

i hope you don't mind me! c:

the evening paints the terrace in a fiery glow; a glimpse skyward is given as atla notes the pale moon as it begins to crest the horizon, not yet in its full glory. she tightens her grip upon the plump groundhog betwixt her jaws, searching for a secluded place to eat that will, if she were lucky, double for a shelter for the night. though she spent much time exploring prior to leaving klakgeda she had underestimated how much work being a lone wolf would be. not having a home to return to each night was ...taxing.

still, she soldiers on with little choice but to.

her steps slow as her search for a temporary shelter begins in earnest, ears swiveling as a strange sound permeates the air. it is muffled ...but it sounds like cries. atla's ears flutter back against her skull as she abandons her current objective and allows her paws to carry her in the direction of the cries. following the sound, she does not sound the one crying but judges by the volume of the muffled cries that she is close.

atla stops and sets her catch down, sniffing at the air. hei, she chuffs softly. chit's skechi? she blinks owlishly at the encroaching shadows for a moment, considering only now that perhaps these wolves do not speak trigedasleng. something sinks in her chest then at the possibility of a language barrier. despite the similarities of the dialects atla has always struggled with common. ah ...what — what wrong? she asks the crying shadows, cringing at the lack of effortlessly fluency of her butchered and chopped sounding common.

By now Weej's cries had shifted into dry sobs, muffled by one of her forepaws. She felt horrible out in the wilderness, and as the sun fled and night closed in, Weejay was aware of how profoundly alone she was.

Her ears tensed as she heard a wolf nearby. Her heart began to hammer in fear and she inched herself further under the bough, the last of her sobs caught by a sharp inhale of surprise. Whoever was lurking outside of her view was close, and Weejay nearly screamed as thin forepaws appeared in her field of vision, the body obstructed by the rough bough sheltering Weejay.

Then came a voice, rough -- the language coarse and unknown to Weejay. Even though it was followed by something that could have passed as her own tongue, Weejay felt a blade of fear against her back. What if this was a dangerous stranger? She covered her mouth with horror, squeezing her eyes shut in terror and hoping the wolf would just miraculously pass her by.

the crying stifles and ceases. ears twitch in pressing concern as atla considers that she's imagined it. but no. she couldn't have. her imagination wasn't that good. she considers poking around, trying to find who'd been crying but in lieu of not wanting to be attacked atla resists that particular temptation. ai nou yu laksen. atla attempts to soothe, voice taking a soft voice ...as she did when speaking with salem's young cubs. what was that in common again?

i not you hurt. atla attempts, feeling the common roll off her tongue clumsily; broken as it always was. in the effort to assure whomever was crying that she wasn't a threat she tries to keep her own frustration at her internal struggles at bay. ai atla. she offers her name to the shadows, golden gaze watching them to see if anyone would appear.

The paws stilled. Weejay's eyes were wide as she looked up in shaking fear, realizing this is what Eljay had always warned her about. She shouldn't have run, she shouldn't have left Firebirds, and now she was going to be snatched up and eaten by a wood-witch just like her poor daddy had always feared..

A hiccup of terror exposed the girl wholly, who then pressed her back to the bough in response to the voice that, in any other situation, would have seemed soothing. Weejay was not normally so scared of strangers, but it was nearly dark, her grandparents were dead, and emotions in that moment were frazzled and running high. She did not answer the stranger, but knew the jig was up given her hiccup had sounded like gunshot through the quiet forest.

Weejay didn't bother to remain still a second longer. She grabbed the rock buried between the roots at her feet and flung it some fifteen feet the other way in distraction, and then she was off like a bolt through the woods. Away from this 'dangerous' stranger, away from it all.