Fox's Glade she's wearing rags and leathers from salvation army counters

@Indra

The moment she'd broken past Kalganov's hulking form, her legs carried her faster than she'd ever run before.  She ran until her paws cracked and bled, she ran until her tongue lolled out of her mouth and her eyes watered from the cold.

She didn't stop when the rain began to fall, or when the rain turned to snow.  She didn't stop even though she knew she was running further and further away from home.

All that mattered in this second was that she was free.  Captivity could have been so much worse, but god, she'd always been cold and hungry and so fucking lonely.  

She only stopped when her body gave out at the edge of some other pack.  Her terrified form scrambled into a ball as she tucked against the outer walls of Bearclaw Valley, and she hoped to still the beating of her heart.

Soon she would go home, but for now all she could think is: i'm free, i'm free, i'm free.

their small procession was hardly out of Bearclaw before things went awry; rupert had made a mad dash from marten’s jaws, and merrick had attempted some sort of bloodless coup on his siblings and was setting up such a caterwauling ruckus it was a wonder they were making any headway at all. indra had forged ahead to ensure their way was clear; she expected little trouble, but trouble found her just the same.

ahead of her slumped a form, red as autumnal fire and yet, seemed somehow broken and subdued as raked coals. indra initially felt a ripple of protectiveness for her home overcome her — but wait, what home? the only thing that mattered now was her family, and despite the initial prickle of possessiveness she felt, indra realized this wolf was battered beyond reason, and visibly hurt.

she paused and lifted her muzzle to the sky, scenting the grey air carefully: there was a possibility whatever had inflicted such harm on fire was nearby, but indra could smell nothing on the wind.

and so, the russet redleaf wrestled with herself - her hardened mind said to walk on, to leave this wretch to whatever end fate designed of it. yet somewhere in the darkened corridors of her heart something shuffled to life; something long silenced and tenderly concealed. it moved from organ to organ, crawling and twisting as it fanned outward with a warmth that had not visited her body in months.

in the end, compassion won out against the colder nature of her heart, and the redleaf woman stepped towards fire and lowered her muzzle to look at the curled figure. are you okay? the question seemed stupid in light of the battery of wounds on the wolf’s fiery pelt; but indra didn’t know how else to get her attention without scaring her.

"Are you alright?"

The question came from a million miles away, though the woman was right in front of her. She didn't know how long she'd been here, but she couldn't remember laying down.  She looks at the stone wall, astonished, then back at the woman who is more or less a mirror image of herself.

Yeah, she mouths, and is once again shocked when her voice catches on the "ah."  No, she follows immediately, shaking her head as the "oh" becomes audible.

Where is this?

the firebrand was slow to stir, but in those eyes indra saw an old watchfulness slowly come to the surface; as if the conscious mind had been submerged and slowly filtered upwards.

she set back on her heels and inspected the stone walls alongside fire. ardent, grim walls; walls that protected them from the world, and yet, were capable of being their prison as well.

"bearclaw -- or, was. we -- those that live here -- are leaving." there was a hidden invitation in the clinical tone of the beta - either fire came along of her own volition, or indra would leave her there: there was nothing left in bearclaw worth protecting, and her energies were better spent marching ahead than looking behind.

She rose wordlessly.  Even though (and she was sure of it, that it had happened this way) Nashoba had seemingly relinquished her grip on Fire's voice, she found it was easier to stay quiet.  Maybe she'd be quiet forever; maybe wherever these people were going, she wouldn't need to talk to anyone ever again.  She clears her throat and trails some distance behind them, but something draws her close to the ruddy-coated woman who has, at least for the moment, made her feel safe.

indra's words were so firm, but inwardly, she felt conflicted by turning to leave. fire, sitting at the cusp of her old home, was potentially in jeopardy if she remained -- and so, indra couldn't help the sinking relief that settled in her stomach as she heard footsteps behind her.

they were a ghosts' footsteps; quiet yet dumb -- she wondered what horrors the she-wolf had endured, and ground her teeth in stewing silence. the world was fucked, and its occupants more-so -- whoever, or whatever had done this to the firebrand, indra hoped dearly they died a tormenting and horrible death.

fire remained quiet, and indra did too -- she would spare words only when necessary once they rejoined the group. she wasn't worried the she-wolf wouldn't be accepted (though she did expect some sideways glances), and as far as indra was concerned, nothing would derail their exodus to the hollow. not even a newcomer.