Shadowwyn Moor For something to believe in

The sun hadn't yet reached its apex and a cool breeze pushed its way over the moor, making the grasses ripple like thousands of individual banners raised in battle. Had it not been for the rich green of the blades, a wolf could have been forgiven for believing that here was an area which was still seeing Autumn, not the warm Summer which touched the rest of the lands. The breeze was strong enough to whip Selkie's fur about her neck, the tufts framing her face.

On that narrow face was a frown. The she-wolf didn't halt, for she was rarely still except in slumber, and as she walked further into the smattering of trees a tutting sound lifted from her teeth and tongue. Some of the trees still stood straight and strong, but others had fallen. Selkie didn't know whether they had put up a good fight or folded like the grass beneath her paws – but it was a sight which invoked a feeling of disappointment.

Of course, there were far more important things the coppery female could have been disappointed about. She was a loner, and for now she was stuck in that narrow, lonely space between living and just existing. She had not eaten yet today, nor the day before, a fact which her stomach reminded her of with almost gleeful regularity. She hadn't seen a friendly face in days, or weeks – at this point she wasn't sure which. Selkie was alone in the world – but rather than facing that fact with drooping ears and self-pity, she was annoyed about it.

Her frown deepened as she passed another fallen tree. Selkie had struck out on her own with abundant optimism and energy, and now both were wearing a little thin. She paused to tilt her head back, leaf green eyes on the sky which would soon be brighter and bluer. Perhaps a Summer storm would be the catalyst she needed, though it didn't look like one was on the horizon.

He'd set out to that particular area, crossing the mountains, now that he was better on his feet again. Cicero still looked like a ghost of a wolf — he was thin, his ribs showing, his thin fur doing little to hide the impact the famine had had on him. But he was beginning to get more energy, particularly now that he no longer had to spare food out of his mouth to feed Malice and her pups — not that he had blamed them; it was his choice — and now that the herds were returning to the valleys.

There was something melancholic about the place he was in, he realised as he noted a fallen tree and a gust of wind blew through his thin fur, making it dance slightly. Mismatched eyes lifted to see there was someone else there, her head lifted to the sky as though she was contemplating something, or perhaps searching for a scent. "It is often great wolves who are of nature prone to melancholy," he shared, although he realised only after words left his lips that she might not have even been feeling as melancholic as he, not as touched by the scenery and the breezy summer weather as he felt.

The she wolf's frown remained as she contemplated the sky. It had always been a mystical thing to her, the endless blue which occasionally grew flushed with other colours. Today it was a flat but rich blue which was only punctuated by the blaze of the sun, almost hurting Selkie's eyes as she took it in. It was the sort of expanse a wolf could easily lose themselves in – but after a few moments Selkie looked away. The lure of musing over the endless sky was too great, and she needed to keep moving.

A breeze touched the loner's fur and it came as a welcome relief from the reverie she had slipped into. With it, too, came the scent of another. Selkie's ears flicked back at his words and her eyes widened slightly as her head turned to take him in: a lanky creature of black, greys and whites who put her in mind of a bird of some sort.

“Them's fancy words,” she remarked good-naturedly, a smile flitting across her muzzle. “Bit of a contrast, isn't it? All the brightness up there -” Her muzzle jerked upward, indicating the sea of blue, “- and then this.” Her gaze fell to the downed trees and that frown marked her brow again. Truthfully, Selkie had no clue why she found the sight as disheartening as she did. Perhaps her own failings were being projected onto innocent trees.

“I ain't no great wolf, though, that's for sure.” Her tone was lighter than the expression which marred her delicate features, the remnants of her optimism sounding in her voice.

There was a contrast to the way she held herself, for her voice seemed bright and full of optimism yet her face betrayed a deeper feeling. Her voice and the way she spoke did not necessarily relay much intellect, but he felt that there was more to her than that first impression. He followed her gaze as she pointed out the contrast and nodded thoughtfully.

Her comment in regards to her not being a great wolf was disregarded, for Cicero felt little use patting others on their backs. He rather allow them to do so themselves, when they were ready for it.

"An admirer of nature, then?" he asked of @Selkie , hoping to find the true source of her interest in the contrasts that she'd pointed out. "Where does the journey lead?" An assumption, perhaps, to think she was traveling, but he did not instantly recognise scents of other wolves on her and thought perhaps her melancholy had to do with being away from whatever home she came from.