Haunted Wood my lost fearless leader

What's this...

Sheltered beneath the canopy of woods, Menthe found comfort in being able to conceal herself amongst the dappled shadows. She was a coastal girl in her heart, one with the salt and the waves, but the forests that lined the coast brought a mystery like no other. Her swift steps outmatched the bulky here, where their meaty, clumsy paws snapped twigs and crunched leaves. Safely hidden among the leaves, she bravely recounted all of the eavesdropping she had done in the woods near her birthplace -- where others thought they were being stealthy. Morons! Speaking so freely as she collected secret after secret -- piles of blackmail. Her memory gingerly steps over the heartbreak she felt at her own selfish spying, thinking only of the upperhand she had gained amongst the other yearlings in the pack. 

Memories of youth fell to the back as she peered quietly down at a pile of stones. They felt... unnatural. Smooth, like those found at the bottom of rivers, stacked one on top of the other in a tower of 8. She sniffed it cautiously from a few inches away, noting how fragile the structure was. How anyone with paws managed this was a mystery, though she inwardly sneered that she probably had the patience and grace to stack them with her muzzle. A smirk quirked her maw with this thought. 

And then! A realization! An alter! Of course. To a wolf raised amongst the same, the thought that other religions or beliefs existed... well, what a foreign concept. Surely, this was crafted so lovingly to pay homage to one of her Gods. She intended to do the same. 

The nymph settled carefully before it, making deliberate movements as not to disturb the alter. She sat back on her haunches and slid down to her elbows, left paw crossing over the right. Her muzzle dipped, crown tilted towards the stones as she paid her physical respects to it. She, of course, had no wordly possessions to give, but she sat amongst the trees and spoke freely into the silence of the dark woods. 

Aphrodite, She spoke, clearly and with poise, I can only imagine that someone constructed something so perfect and awe-bringing in your honor. And she believed it to be true, too! Aphrodite was Menthe's chosen worship, most days than not. If the Goddess of Beauty was so kind to build the fae in her own image, then Menthe was forever grateful. And, Hermes too, sure, but Menthe was fewer and far between with her gifts to the God. 

She paused, briefly, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. I am grateful you have shrouded me in your veil, I have reached these woods safely. I can feel it... the end of my journey. To say such a thing suddenly felt out-of-body -- did she mean that? She certainly acknowledged all of life that she felt (and smelled) in these new wilds, but could this be the end? Oh, it must be obvious. But my confidence in from you, isn't it? You believe my purpose lies amongst these lands? 

I have no authority to question your all-knowing, the nymph purred with a small smile and a shake of her head, Your wisdom is as great as your elegance, I will seek out my destination with grace.

Fallen Sun was a man of few words; not that he knew many to begin with. He was a sponge of curiosity and frankly wanted to learn as many as he could, so he could one day speak the name of the woman he loved so dearly. 

If only he could find her again! 

The man bathed in dying sunlight pranced about not unlike that of a deer, so effortlessly against the darkness. His pelt unmistakable. 

If the woman in these woods was Aphrodite, he would bear semblance to Apollo. 

His nose against the ground, stirring scent that flowed as flower petals upon windswept meadows in bursts of breezes.

Sniffing.

Was there a trace of his Wind Flower here? What of Winter Song? But in the woods, he dared not howl - least those unkind to wordless wolves sought to end his noble quest.

As the tail of her prayer came to a close, Menthe fell quiet. Sweet, subtle songs of the forest swirled around her, Aphrodite's answer to her call no doubt. Peaking through the clouds for the first time all day, sun beams dappled the bracken at her toes, and the weight of the journey levitated from her squared shoulders. Her green gaze closed, breathing in the atmosphere around her. Just like the Gods to check in on their favorite creation so readily, building her a secret garden oasis within the confines of the woods.

As soon as she began to relish in it's beauty, another smell wafted through, and Menthe found herself pulled from her own mind and brought into reality. Thank you, Aphrodite.. she murmured to the stones, rising with ears pricked to investigate the scent that she picked up on. The river nymph turned, standing before the altar and gazing out upon the forest. 

Somewhere along the treeline flashed fire, but no smell of smoke tainted it's striking color. Menthe's gaze narrowed down the way, a careful few steps forward. Had the Goddess sent her a prize? A material reward for her devotion and triumphs? She could only assume so... As she slunk quietly through the woods the clouds pulled the suns glow behind their cover, and beneath them left a man the same color as it's beams. 

Deductive reasoning was her strong suit, so she would never admit the flicker of hope that swirled in her belly. A low, friendly boof sounded from the shadows, and Menthe stepped forward to reveal herself, posture neutral. 

Had Aphrodite sent her a God of her own?

The man knew nothing of Gods; instead a circle of sun and moon. The Sun, a beacon of heat, of anger, the ruler of prey that doth graze when its light spread across the horizon. The Moon, a force of predator, hunter; hunting those who spend their day growing fat and lazy, riddled with food that took time to digest.

Fallen Sun was the brilliance of dusk, a predator who oft hunted before the mist of twilight. His mother was shunned by the sun but not accepted by the moon, leaving his pack cursed to wander between no-man's-land and the borders of those who had been chosen by one or the other. 

Though he wasn't sure how he knew this, much less how to speak it. He wasn't even sure how someone would explain any of it if they couldn't use the Important Noises. He'd try, if he ever learned the secrets of articulation.

An ear flicked, and his head turned. Wind Flower?! his heart almost skipped a beat at the thought of her voice. Her scent. Their days in the meadow. Their adventures. How he missed her.

A stranger stood before him. But Fallen Sun was a boy in the body of a man, and had yet to meet an unkind face. Head tilting, he drew closer. Having passed his third winter, his feet had grown sure, steady - gracefully. Like he walked upon clouds instead of ground. He'd also gotten more interested in keeping himself free of dirt and debris, because he didn't want to find Wind Flower if he was unkept. 

Therefore, he was as bold as the setting sun he was named after. And he wuffed back a happy, breathy Hhi!

Anticipation built it's home in the air that stilled around them, sitting like pointed stones floating throughout the clearing. One single breathe dared to send them flying at her chest, but she released her lungs softly and inhaled as normally, hope prickling the fur by her cheeks. 

The green of the ocean met the hues of the forest as their eyes glossed one another's. Menthe's crown dipped forward in respectful greeting as he acknowledged her, still clinging to the idea of gift from Aphrodite... but his voice... Her head raised and she looked over him again. He was the color of the sun, she'd seen him herself when he arrived afterall, but the booming, demanding voices that she had been raised to believe in... didn't feel fulfilled here. 

Disappointment bred seedlings through her chest, though she knew better than think that a God could be delivered here for her. But, if it were to happen, it would of course be for her. 

Hi, She returned, with a bit more suspicion laced to her tone, I'm just passing through, do you need something? Her interest in his presence was now less in awe and more in general politeness, in case he was a God, but that dream was fading slowly.

Fallen Sun's head tilted. She seemed... less than enthused. He tried to speak to her, using the extent of his vocabulary of polite conversation. Fhindh... her. his throat roared with soreness. Ih... whan t- to - fhindh... her. before it quivered out into a whimper and a mental note to find a puddle to drink from. But even if his voice was rough around the edges, it was incredibly soft. Upon using it more, it reminded even its speaker of a fawn's first breath. 

A booming voice? Wait until this man howled. 

She was a pretty wolf, and in all fairness, kind of reminded him of Wind Flower in terms of pelt. But his long-lost love smelt of sea spray and jasmine, and that was definitely not what this one smelled like. It... wasn't a bad smell, though.

He supposed she'd come back one of these days, but the lands here were so vast! He simply couldn't find her overnight. The skin on his nose twitched, but no such scent came to it. 

Wind Flower wasn't here.

But this new wolf was! And she looked friendly! 

Whho... yah?

It was not plain english, but Menthe had enough sense to put it all together. Find who? She asked, a bit softer than her previous question had been laced. If her puzzle pieces could fit together perfect enough, it could have maybe been Aphrodite -- sending him here to find her. Perhaps the moons of travel had washed away her own sea salt scent, it had been ages since Menthe had anyone describe it to her anyway. 

Teetering between something that bordered not PC and something that was a story for a pup, Menthe took a quick glance up and down this man as she contemplated her answer. It was a fine line that her conscious danced upon, but she almost found his almost silent nature and friendliness more intriguing than not. I am Menthe, Came the river nymph's response before she turned it back on him Do you have a name? 

She continued to eye him carefully, ears pointed forward and tail still behind her. She was as neutral as one could hope to be meeting a stranger, even with his most non-threatening nature. Are you from around here? She'd follow after he answered -- if he answered -- before daring to sit back. Her trust in Aphrodite, even if this was not a God, was luring her kindness.