Bearclaw Valley thanatophobia

slight tw for death stuff

Do you ever question your mortality?

Oftentimes, as he skirted the towering walls of the valley, the wolf thought of what his death would be like. Perhaps a boulder would come loose and land on his head like some unfortunately timed piano. Or his throat would be gored by the antlers of a deer. Maybe one of his kind would sever the artery that gave life to his brain.

It was times like these that the ironclad wished he had some sort of way of predicting the future. Despite the knowledge that such a thing was impossible, the thought kept him moving onward, until he came across a vaguely familiar trail. He thought of brown-hunter and decided to follow it if only to satiate his morbid curiosity.

Esma did not question her mortality - she had not experienced a death of a close friend or family member yet - therefore the concept was more or less foreign to her. Besides - she was young, at an age, when people still feel that there is so much ahead of them. That they are - contrary to facts of reality - immortal. 

The subject she was more preoccupied these days was the question of, what a god was. She had met two people with vastly different belief systems, but she had observed some common traits. While the stories of neither drew at her heart-strings, she was curious to learn about them as much as possible.  In hopes that eventually she would find answers to all of life's big questions and find a god that she could make friends with. 

However, gods were not creatures you found walking this earth, people - where. While she would have approached any celestial being without any fear, strangers made her cautious. Like this ironclad fellow, who moved through the valley swiftly, deep in his own thoughts. He had not yet spotted the young she-wolf and she did not move or make a sound to let him know her being here. With any luck, he would pass by and not notice her. 

The wolf likely would have continued unperturbed had it not been for his paranoiac surveying of the undergrowth. This was brown-hunter's territory; that much was clear from the stark markings that clung to the cliffside. He very much expected to run into her again - and so when a flash of brown fur caught his eye, he strode towards her with a tooth grin.

"AYYY? You vatch from ze bush like a perrrrrv?" He laughed heartily at his own joke, awaiting her inevitable departure from the underbrush.

No luck today. The older wolf spotted her tawny coat and addressed her directly. Esma felt disappointed - in fate, but mostly in herself as well. Elders were more experienced and had better eye for prey and others of their kin alike. She sighed and stepped out of her hiding place gingerly, all the while her gaze was studying the gray wolf's expression and body language. At present he seemed to be at ease, but who knew, what roamed these lands. Ash Star had warned her not to trust strangers easily. 

"Is it a god of yours?" Esma asked in return, having never heard the word before.