Meadowlark Prairie turn your wounds into wisdom

set at meadowlark prairie, between redhawk caldera and blackfeather woods (: AW!

Now that the herds were returning and things were looking up, Cicero enjoyed taking strolls from the pack territories again. He still slept in Damien's den, but perhaps it had become more of a custom thing now than a necessity. He enjoyed being close to his brother very much, and had missed him dearly in the many months that he had slept alone. To be able to fall asleep with his face nestled against Damien's fur was a privilege he now enjoyed and appreciated even more than before, and one that he intended to keep this time.

It was around dusk that Cicero crossed into meadowlark prairie, a place previously bleak and empty due to the locusts, but was now starting to grow again. It was good to see that plants were returning, and with them, so were the herds. Cicero sifted through the plants, looking for something good. He found a piece of poison ivy after some searching, and looked around to see if no one was near before he intended to chew on at least a small part of it. As he sniffed the plant the familiar itchy and painful tingle on his nose was felt. How he had missed his green friends.

The weather was fair for travel, and the quiet steps of the lynx carried him far from the sea in search of the spirits of the fel. Bajeera was certain that there would be few on the water’s edge that would have the glow about them, but his whiskers had twitched curiously with each passing scent that carried promise of wolf packs in large numbers. The Gul’Dan had never truly been fond of the beasts, but they had never done him harm, and so he had lived alongside them for his first year. Few of them spoke his language, and he found himself stumbling over the common terms that were used. Still, the great fel spirits spoke of promise in that land, and the quiet cat was intent on finding whatever it was that was in store for him.
 
Picking his way through the prairie, the feline could scent two packs on either side and frowned thoughtfully; they were neighbors in that land, though far enough away that he was nowhere near the scent-marked borders. It caused his fur to prick to be out in the open with very little cover. Even more so when his gaze caught the sight of a patchwork beast nibbling on poison ivy. Tufted ears swiveled atop the Gul’Dan’s crown and he breathed heavily the scent of this male. Bajeera turned his head as he inspected the creature before him, careful to keep his distance, but curious.
 
It was only within the moment that he realized the canine had mismatched eyes. Widening his own vision, the lynx crept forward to peer at the brute with a quiet reverence. He had been blessed by the spirits in a different sense; this wolf had been given two bodies inside of him.

The sensation of the blisters crawling through his tongue was pleasant and yet uncomfortable at the same time, as it always was. Before taking another small bite from the poison ivy Cicero took a glance around, and it was good that he did so, for there was someone nearby that he had not noted before. He stiffened, mismatched eyes glancing in the direction of the feline while he tried to gauge whether or not the feline would pose an immediate threat to him. The feline did not appear to be threatening, for now, but Cicero never truly trusted other beings; there were few wolves he truly trusted, let alone other creatures that inhabited the lands.

His mismatched eyes sought the face of the feline, whose eyes were a bright, nearly poisonously so green. His gaze lifted, he left the poison ivy alone for now as he asked, "What does the cat want?"

The mismatched pair of eyes swiftly snapped upward and onto the cat. His tufted ears swiveled on his skull and pointed back. The thick muscles in his body tensed and the lynx wondered if the wolf who spoke before him represented the silver or the orange eye on the boy’s face. Though he did not truly know the character of the canine well enough to make such an assumption, Bajeera’s people and his culture were superstitious beings, and the mismatched gaze of the black and white brute was a sign of multiple souls. It was something strange for the Gul’Dan to witness it so closely and to be so involved with one who had been granted the honor of housing more than one. Bajeera’s own destiny was great in and of itself, but he often marveled at the lives of others.
 
Flicking his ears back so that they sat erect, the feline’s mouth seemed to curl upward into a soft smile. “Bajeera wants nothing. Bajeera was only passing through,” he purred to the wolf with a curious lilt to his voice. The poisonous green of his gaze was still curiously playing with the features of the canine, but in a manner that would – hopefully – not be perceived as threatening.

The cat's posture did not seem threatening, so Cicero relaxed somewhat, believing he was in no immediate threat. Yet Cicero knew that his words could be like venom, creating wounds on the egos of those he spoke to, so he would remain vigilant. The words of the other caused a curious tilt of Cicero's head, for he wondered if he was being mocked for the cat to speak in third person, or if this was, in a way, a kindred spirit. His experience was that it was usually the first.

Just passing through. He could not help but wonder aloud, "To where?" For Cicero was ever the curious creature, and he was always longing for answers. This creature intrigued him in some ways, with its poisonous green yet enticing eyes, and he felt that the feeling was mutual between them.

The cat was none the wiser of the canine’s own speaking habits. He was merely acting as a vessel for the great spirits that required him. His body had allowed for Gul’Dan to traverse a great stretch of land and see many things, but they had not come across what they had been searching for… not yet. After having stated his case, the two-wolf seemed interested in Bajeera’s intentions. Passing through, but to where? It was a fair inquiry to have fallen on the feline. He peered at the stranger with a peculiar intensity in the electric green of his gaze, taking another step forward and gesturing with the flat of his nose to the world around them with a sway of his skull. “Bajeera searches for the fel spirits,” he explained in a raspy voice.
 
It was not likely that his present company would know anything of the fel, but the lynx was intent on his goal, and he would not waver. Gul’Dan required the spirits, and so the vessel would carry him wherever he was inclined if it meant that there was a chance. The wolf, though, seemed to have a strange glow to him. It was not the fel – no – but something else. And it riled a curiosity in Bajeera.

It was a curious being, this feline. Cicero did not remember ever seeing any like it, but then, he usually steered further clear of them. This one approached on its own, almost as though it had a particular interest in Cicero, which was a strange thing indeed.

Fel spirits were things that Cicero had never heard of and he shot the feline an inquisitive glance as it gestured around as though he should know that the feline intended for. "What are fel spirits?" he asked, unknowing but, as always, eager to learn.

The vessel drew his tufted ears forward at the sound of the canine’s question. His eyes were alight with knowledge as the prospect of sharing the spirits with this wolf grew near. The feeling of Gul’Dan inside of him had caused the fur along his neck to rise and for goosebumps to form on the flesh beneath. He had traveled his whole life in hopes of finding those who were willing to learn the ways of the fel. The magic was involved in those acts was… immeasurable, but Bajeera knew that he could not speak so soon of the great things that could occur. Instead, he forced himself to take on a level head and breathed through his nares with a quiet exhale.
 
“They are the spirits that are touched by fel magic… the strongest magic in the world,” the cat spoke in his raspy tones and his mouth curled in a smirk. “Bajeera has been touched by fel magic. You can see it in Bajeera’s eyes,” he then breathed before taking a careful step toward the wolf as if to demonstrate the great power that coursed through his body.

Cicero knew a thing or two about magic, but he had never heard of fel magic. Truthfully, he was not so sure he believed in the magic of Mephala either, even though there was a undeniable pull towards all that she represented. But magic..? He was not sure, even if he had seen things that would convince another. But was it magic, or simply a delusional wolf's mind? Even in cases where he was involved — where he was the subject — he was not so sure of this.

So he was interested if this was just a delusional feline, or if there was really magic involved. Still, he was interested to find out more about this and so looked into the feline's eyes (by now convinced his speech was not a means to make fun of Cicero, but simply a kindred spirit when it came to speaking; Cicero could not help but wonder if Bajeera held an additional personality with him, too). "It is strong," he noted, though only because he felt there was something alluring to the feline's poisonous green eyes. He liked poison; and so he liked fel. "What sort of magic does it do?" he then asked with a note of interest to his voice, keen to find out. There were many different kinds of magics in the world, after all.