Otatso Wetlands in the end the waves will discolor me.

takes place a couple days after the locusts but before that one thread Ku just started for present day I'll link it later...

Harlyn was silent as she stood; a dark silhouette upon the landscape. The air still hummed with locusts though not nearly as severely as they had when first they'd descended upon the wilds. For the first time in days, the Druid felt immune to their presence. They were but a backdrop for her stolen moments of solitude; their thrum just background music to the thoughts that now ran free in her mind. Thoughts she'd kept in the far corners of her awareness for days, until this very moment when she'd crept off to be alone with them, to give them the full attention they warranted.

The dislodged alpha had never been a good hunter. Her nose was not strong, her sense of direction lacking, and her senses in general simply not in tune with what was needed in order to achieve extraordinary success in such an arena. But even in spite of her shortcomings, she had been unable to overlook the fading stories she'd smelled upon the abandoned borders of the Maplewood. She knew who had marked them once upon a time, and she knew perfectly well what it meant that her friend had made such an effort to enforce the boundaries of this place.

It was this more than anything that pained Harlyn the most. Of all she had been through, of all she had lost; none of it hurt as terribly as this. The Druid turned her gaze up to the sky, staring in misery and anger past the twitch of locusts that swept past the moon like dark shooting stars. Her entire life, she had felt indebted to that moon. She had worshipped the stars, the earth, the universe, and thanked hen for all they had given. But this vendetta had reached a point past her understanding, and through all of the confusion, hurt, anger and frustration, one single thought unsheathed, shaking with emotion, from her lips straight to her gods.

"I did not deserve this."

The more days that go by, the more damage the locusts leave behind. The greenery is wiped from the mountain, down to the stubs in grass, and every surrounding territory that engulfs them. She doesn’t have to keep going from one area to the next to know there isn’t anything green within miles—days—of travel. Without completely uprooting their home, she isn’t sure how the next few months will play out. Sleeping Dragon has always been home to a plethora of rodents, and their activity has increased with the dying locusts they’ve been feasting on. However, a large colony of rats isn’t enough to keep them fed.

She travels down through the maplewood—the beautiful blooms, brightening the territory are gone—and continue south into territories she’s unfamiliar with. They begin to look the same from one spot to the next, nearly unidentifiable from one the last. The ground changes, softer, wetter, and she releases she’d stepped into a former marsh. Now it’s just an open expanse of wet ground. The towering, empty trees leave a haunting feeling, but she’s quickly distracted from the territory as a large bug hit the side of her head. She flicks her ears and shakes her head, feeling a weird sensation crawl beneath her fur. A groan slips by her as she moves further inland. The locusts seemed less dense in the last day or so, but their thinning is far from over. Until then, Thuringwethil anxiously waits to see the extent of the damage and what might be left behind in their wake.

Thuringwethil hears a voice, but the words are unknown to her. She turns to see an agouti-style female, a pained expression on her features. The dark female chuffs, realizes her voice is likely to fall on deafened ears, and she tries a second time, a little louder.

Harlyn had not anticipated that her solitude would be interrupted, but nor had she given much consideration to such. When she heard a voice amongst the steady thrum of insect wings, the Druid turned to gaze out through the shifting air. She did not see the woman at first for her pelt was as dark as the night that encompassed them, but eventually she spotted the shade and uttered a low bark of greeting in reply.

The woman seemed to be no threat, and yet as Harlyn waited to see what was to unfold, she felt a chill run along her spine. Was this another of the gods' minions, sent to deliver more chaos and heartache? Harlyn grit her teeth at the thought and felt the bitterness and frustration fall upon her again. When would it be enough?

Whether or not the woman heard her calls, she can’t be sure, but she’s noticed anyway, and makes a point to bark in her direction. Thuringwethil doesn’t quite hear it, but she sees the action and hear ears fall back against her head. The looming threat of the locusts above them are far more of a concern right now rather than some rogue female caught in the crossfire. The problem the bugs are causing is much bigger than Thuringwethil can imagine and worrying about it when she doesn’t know the extent of the damage will only do so much.

The dark leader takes a few bold steps forward to close the distance, perhaps an attempt to better hear should either of them speak, but she leaves enough space between them. “Have you seen anything like this?” she decides to ask with a solemn twist of her own lips before waiting to see if the other even heard her speak.

There continued to be no violence in her manner, and so Harlyn relaxed. She was too tired for such tension in any case. Her children were safely with the pack. There was no one to protect but herself, and the druid was too exhausted to worry much for her own well-being that night.

The shade came nearer while Harlyn watched in silence. This dark wolf was a female, and she could sense some power to her. It was understated in that moment, but still there buried beneath her inky folds. The druid was intrigued by her, but remained quiet to allow her the first words.

"Never," Harlyn replied as she turned to gaze out into the buzzing darkness. "I pray that I never will again," she added after a beat as a shudder ran along her spine.

I pray that I never will again.

Thuringwethil sighs and drops her gaze to the ground. The devastation left behind is apparently and she can see the feast the locusts have taken to their home. Their prey will disappear, the herds will follow along to other places, and the wolves left behind will be forced to make a decision. Pick up and leave and stay and wait it out. Thuringwethil would have to decide what is best for her own wolves, uncertain whether or not the land will be able to sustain them, even with the rival pack out of the picture.

The buzzing, at long exposure, feels deafening. She doesn’t know what it’s like anymore to have a quiet thought as the locusts take over the world. For how long, Thuringwethil isn’t sure, but the damage is long from over. It would take time for the world to grow back and even then, the herds wouldn’t return in full force. They wouldn’t walk into a place full of hungry, frenzied wolves when the earth had little to show for their danger.

“What will you do?” she decides to ask, curious. She knows little about the woman in front of her, has never seen her before, and doesn’t recognize her scent among the packs within her normal proximity. A lone wolf would be foolish to shack up with a pack already facing a famine and their luck would be beneficial to find the nearest green pasture for their best chance of survival.

The woman's question was a bit surprising, but Harlyn didn't wonder at it for more than a second. She gave a humorless laugh and bowed her head. What would she do? What could she do? She had no territory to abandon. She was already on the run with her family, and she had never had an intended destination for the locusts to force her to change.

"My pack was forced to abandon our home before the locusts came," she admitted, not bothering to hide the pain in her voice from this complete stranger, "We've been on the move for days with only a vague destination in mind - a relative of my mate's that may or may not even live where he did when last we saw him. I'm travelling with my children. They're only a few months old, and tired, and terrified."

Harlyn shook her head, hardly able to believe what she'd just said. It was all the truth, but hearing it out loud brought the weight of her decisions down hard upon her consciousness. She shook her head, feeling momentarily suffocated by what her world had turned into. She shut her eyes tight and took a steadying breath before her attention flickered to the other woman. "And you?" she asked, eager for a distraction from her own woes before they consumed her. The druid didn't mind being honest with this stranger, but she was not one to allow herself to completely fall apart even in her solely her own company.

There's a moment that Thuringwethil worries she might be standing in front of a former Phoenix but she's able to wash it away and assure herself they are long gone. A hint remains but she reminds herself there are more to these lands she's unaware of. Questions linger in the back of her mind, holding on to them and asking for clarification, more information, might be able to settle the worry rooting inside. Her knowledge of the Phoenix wolves has always been limited to a handful of wolves. If it weren't for the survival of her own, she might feel a little regret for pushing them out of their home before the world began to cave in.

"My clan is east of here, on a mountain," she says, lifting her gaze long enough to test the waters, catch the other woman's reaction. "I'm not certain what we will do, it all happened so fast. I wanted to see how far the damage reached." Thuringwethil breaks her gaze to look around, the buzzing in her ears a dull ache in the back of her head. Slate eyes slowly close, trying to force it out of her head and instead focus on the conversation at hand. A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes her then.

When she opens her eyes again, everything comes back to her. The buzzing is still there, the sky partially blacked out, and the foliage still stripped bear from their world.

"What made you leave your home?" she finally asks, ears swiveling forward to try and block out the world around them.

The woman answered her question, and Harlyn found herself steadied by listening to the rhythm of her voice. She too turned her head to gaze when her companion looked away, but not at where she looked. She took the moment to look at the inky black fur that lined her strong, youthful frame. She was an attractive girl, which did not go unnoticed by the druid even in her state of distress. Harlyn kept her eyes on the girl, unflinching when she turned back to look at her again.

"We were too few to keep our hold," Harlyn explained, "Our pack was set upon by a cougar that seemed to have a fondness for the blood of my wolves. He attacked my mate first and nearly blinded him in one eye. My beta he took next. Then my gamma was attacked, and finally it took one of mine captive after savaging another of mine who had tried to stop him. It left us weak and our numbers small. It was not safe, so we left." She paused to take a breath, realizing her eyes had wandered to gaze skyward. She heaved a sigh in frustration, wishing it would empty of locusts.

"I want to see the stars," she murmured irritably. Her talk of the attacks had brought her thoughts around again to Luke and the anger came to her again. Harlyn bit her lip against the rush of emotion. How could he?

"Have you ever loved someone more than you do yourself?" Harlyn asked suddenly, still peering upwards into the cloud of locusts.

Thuringwethil keeps her relief hidden and nods her head, easing some of the tension she's built up over the last few minutes of analysis. Not a Phoenix, she's able to determine, but a horrible reason for being forced out of her home. She recalls the cougar she'd stumbled upon just outside her own borders and how he toyed with her, rattled her, and had it not been for the bear of a wolf, he would have taken everything she had. Cougars are not the friendliest of creatures and if there are more around terrorizing wolves, it would not surprise her.

She moves on and she glances up, unable to see much in way of the locusts. The buzzing makes it hard to concentrate and she takes another step forward to close the distance if only to better hear. How long the locusts are expected to stay is unknown to her but the destruction they've made so far has left a sour knot in the pit of her stomach.

The next question catches her off guard but it's enough of a distraction, her gaze returning back to the pretty female. The tone of her voice causes a frown and she's uncertain how to answer, looking down at the ground. Her movements are mostly hidden by the dark surrounding her but they feel awkward and uncomfortable. The question the woman asks feels like an impossible answer where just simple yes isn't enough and so Thuringwethil remains silent with no notion of a reply outside a contemplative move of her muzzle.

:0 You got post 500!

The woman said nothing, and it was all Harlyn really needed from her. She took it as a sign that her companion had no experience herself to relate, which may easily have not been true, but it was what Harlyn hoped for in the throes of her heartbreak. Loving freely and without caution was a beautiful thing. She had allowed it of herself so very often in her life and had been rewarded with moments that she would not trade for anything. But it did not come without risks, and Harlyn suffered now from the very worst outcome possible from such foolish carelessness with her heart.

"There is no greater way to love," Harlyn said after a moment of waiting for some verbal response from the girl, "But there is also no more dangerous a thing to do with your heart." She flicked an ear as a locust buzzed uncomfortably near to it, then shook herself when it proved to not be enough to deter the little fiend. "Sometimes I wonder if it is worth it," she finished softly, swallowing hard the emotion that rose from saying such a thing.

i passed you!

Thuringwethil can't help but wonder what it would be like if she were allowed the same chance as everyone else. If she could love freely, to not worry about her status and the safety of her own. From the moment she could understand words, she'd been taught and groomed to become who she is. She'd have to sacrifice things she's never experienced; the love of her family, the love of another's embrace, and perhaps even that of her own children. Taken away from her family as soon as she'd been able, before she could form memories, she never knew the pair that had given birth to her or if she'd have siblings. A suspicion lay somewhere but nothing that has ever been confirmed.

And to love another is a weakness she cannot afford. To divide her affections for one wolf puts them all in danger, learning from the past mistakes of those before her. Hearing the woman speak of it as she does makes her wonder if she'd want to experience it or if following the teachings of her wolves continue to be the best thing for them all. The sadness in her voice isn't drown out by the locust and she might consider it to be the loudest of all. Thuringwethil takes a deep breath and a few steps forward so that her nose gently touches the cheek of the woman, wondering if it might be any assurance at all, if she could empathize.

Harlyn's words echoed painfully in her mind after she'd said them. She swallowed down the sobs that rose again to refuse them permission to come. She was stronger than to fall apart completely. But, try as she might, the Druid could not control herself completely. So finally, She closed her eyes silently and at last, gave in to allow her thoughts free access to her memories of Luke.

In retrospect, she had loved him almost instantly. She'd fallen for his carefree nature, optimism, and innate charisma. She had built the pack at the Hollow almost as much as for him as for herself and Mordecai. He had been the one to discover it with her, and he had been at her side to claim it. Never once had he shirked from her when learning of her dreams of a place of her own. Mordecai had accepted her desires and nonchalantly agreed to help her accomplish them. Luke had actively pursued them with her and encouraged her to take the steps she may otherwise have never taken for fear of what they might lead to. 

Her heart ached for those memories - for her friend the way he was meant to be. The demon cat had sent corruption through his very soul, for the wolf she remembered would never have abandoned his family to take up with some other pack. He would never have forsaken his commitment, no matter how bruised his ego may have been at her rejection. But this one had, as was evident by the markings on the borders she stood near now. Harlyn felt the bitter sting in her heart. She had waited for him, faithfully ascertaining that he would be back. When he had been here the whole time, forgetting them, forgetting her.

The nose that pressed against her cheek was cold, and yet the touch felt warm. Harlyn did not open her eyes, but leaned into it, selfishly absorbing whatever comfort was available to claim from it. She turned without thought to brush her nose against the other woman's, her tongue reaching to glide across Thuringwethil's muzzle as it was withdrawn. It was a comfort to make a move of such intimacy with another, particularly someone she did not know and had no real feelings for. A wild rebellion rose in her and she felt the powerful impulse to pursue this flickering flame, but instead she let it smolder and stood to leave.

"I hope our paths cross again," Harlyn said quietly to the dark female, even then fighting her baser instincts that were so very tempted by the desire to be careless and free from troubles, if for only one stolen moment that would only lead to more pain and strife. A smile flickered across her muzzle before she turned to go, her fiery eyes lingering on the younger woman for as long as possible before settling on the landscape ahead.