Whitefish River What did you have left to lose?

<3

She wasn't sure she wanted to be here. The sky was dark, presently, and the dove's white muzzle was tipped upward to the sky - no, she wasn't sure she wanted to be here at all. It was too familiar, all of it, every nook and cranny of the Teekon. Perhaps even some places she had not explored, it was too much. The memories that coursed through her mind burned, causing her heart to thump like an beast making an escape from a locked cage. She'd been back to the Bypass already, but could not stay. No, too many memories, too many thoughts, too much. Too much. 

Storm. No, not one in the sky, though she did feel her own rainclouds whenever she pictured the man. A monster, cold and brutal, powerful and obsessive, he was after her somewhere. Perhaps he had given up his pursuit, seeking someone different to tend to his needs, his wants - that was why she had run. The fear that he would find her again, the pure terror that swallowed her heart in a stoney grip and squeezed, it was more than she could handle. And the waves of sorrow that all in her life had left her was a constant reminder that she hadn't belonged here. In the Teekon. She hadn't belonged anywhere.

Yet here she was, at the edge of a river. Ghostly, frail figure, standing solemly still. Like a spirit, lithe and quiet, mysterious to the eye - a thick coat, despite her petite frame, masked her body in a cloak of white, and if one was simply passing by they might miss the dove halted by the water's edge.

Hurt, her heart hurt. Pain, it was all she felt.

Lonely.

She was alone.

vague reply is vague

With the help of the healer, her physical wounds had healed well enough; scabbed over and knitted together, bruises faded beneath her pelt. It was her mind that hurt the most, and for the first few days thinking had been hard, remembering harder still. And so, she did not remember. She did not dare cross the borders she'd placed in her mind, dared not think of it and him. The source of her security had become suffocating, suddenly, and she'd simply unfurled herself and slipped away, followed the sounds of the river. 

The harsh angles of her body had returned, carved there by her empty stomach. She craved the burn of the springs, but remembered the cold that came after painfully. She picked her way along the wet stones, stopping only when her gaze traced the ghost. She stood motionless, fragile, as if a gust could tear her into wisps of fog. Anatha's hackles prickled, then lay flat, waiting for the next gust of wind. It came in a moment, pushing through her fur, and yet the ghost did not dissipate.

Thanks for joining :)

"That time wasn't his ta give, little dovette. That Knew of yours was a rat, thievin' the only time I shoulda had with you, if ya hadn'ta run off like some whipped dog. I loved ya, biscuit; still do. Always have, and I'll be damned if I ever stopped. But that rat ya snuggled up to all them night's wasn't for you. He used you, Gwen. I never woulda did that to my baby girl."

The voice echoed in her head, the lies etched into her brain. They'd been there so long... she wasn't sure now whether they could even be true, and Knew had been using her all that time. But it was so difficult to believe - she had found love again, she was certain. But her beliefs had been crushed the moment Storm reappeared in her life. By that point Knew had gone... where, she'd never know - so she supposed there was a chance the monster had been telling the truth. But how was she to know?

Her ex-mate had brought a skull to her doorstop, claiming it to be Knew's, and her heart's cracks had filled with loss, a heavy weight crushing every ounce of compassion she once held within. Was Knew dead, or had he simpy abandoned her and the man she wanted to leave behind had simply fabricated more lies to take her off guard and steal her away? She wouldn't doubt it. But maybe her poor lover had died, in his state at the time it was unfortunately likely. Oh, how love stings.

The gusts of wind did little to break her trance, small form lingering in that one spot, unmoving. Lost, in both her thoughts, and reality. Again, again, the words, the hurt, the loss, the heartbreak, the self-doubt, it killed her. She was dying. Her mind was dying, her heart was dying. And she wasn't sure she even cared anymore.

The scent - a scent, one unfamiliar and strange, it finally removed her focus from the darkness inside, and her body tensed. White ears flicked backward to press against her skull, her head pivoted around, dark, ocean gaze landing on the wolfess. No words, just silence as she stared - perhaps it was unnerving, but she lacked the energy to try any different.

The ghost - no, it was not a ghost, but a woman - tensed, and her gaze met Anatha's. The girl stood motionless, and did not look away; but took the woman's staring in stride. Her own umber gaze was dull still, haunted, but eventually, something sparked as she stared, and finally she broke away to pick her way to the river's edge, dipping her muzzle into the frigid waters and drinking deeply, heavy and numb, until-

- she was made motionless by confusion and something akin to interest, in the male and his oddness. his muzzle he stretched out to near touch her chest, breathing in her scent in a manner that had her wary and ill at ease, stepping back slowly as confusion glinted in her gaze, unsure of whether to slip away or - 

She lurched, moving back with a violence that broke the trance of the brief meeting, tail curled high and heart pumping. Rounding on the woman, she glanced at her once before turning on her heel and making her way back up the bank, propelled into motion as her mind struggled to sink back into the numbness, step back over the border she'd crossed.

There was a silence between the two figures as the girl returned the blank, hollow stare - as if she was void of emotion just as the ghost herself seemed to be. The tornado of pain dimmed sometimes, and in her current state after her escape from the boogeyman, she felt not disimilar to the pebbles and stones lining the river. Lodged into place but able to wash away with the gentle push of water that would shift the stone and sent it floating down to the unknown.

Then the moment was broken, and the stranger moved toward the river's edge, intent only to drink while the scarred dove seemed to drift in and out of reality. That's how she felt inside, though whether something as subtle as the blinking, drifting thoughts swirling through her head could possibly be noticed in her stance was a feat she did care to know.

Suddenly there was a snap from the ginger-furred girl, who lurched away from the water with a violent surge of what seemed to be fear, perhaps a reminder of an event that had long since passed. She could understand the movements if that was the case, for she had suffered many flashbacks to the days that she wished so desperately to block from her mind with the force of which she used to block others from warming the heart she locked with a rusted key.

The meeting was brief, and as it ended, Gwen nodded to herself in silent acceptance before trailing away into the depths of the wood. This river as it continued to flow, would likely not remember the day the pair in their quiet approaches split away, departing as though the encounter had never taken place.