Heron Lake Plateau Drive there, then drive back again

WC: 878

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With the drearily early onset of winter came a soft dusting of snow that was wet and cool, but at least it came without the harrowing wind. With the temperature being on the slightly warmer side, the snowflakes that fell were massive- sticking together as they fell. Only an hour later into the day, those snowflakes had turned to freezing rain which had intensified, and Niamh had gotten caught in the middle of it while she had been out patrolling and calling out for her brother. Ice pellets fell from the sky- and they were slightly wet, so they had a bit of an impact when they hit, and then would melt on Niamh’s soft golden fur. The ground underfoot did not take long to get covered in an inch of ice pellets, and Niamh knew that if the temperature dropped they’d all be walking on a bottle. She had seen freezing rain before, and knew that it caused even more problems than snow did. Especially if snow came after the layer of ice pellets on the ground had frozen solid; then they’d be walking on a bottle without knowing it.

Niamh detested it, but couldn’t move too fast in the ice storm as even walking was difficult with the ground covered in ice pellets. It was similar to walking on sand, but even more unstable as the ice pellets were smoothe and moved away from her feet as she walked, sometimes twisting one of her feet sideways if she didn’t slow down enough. In this kind of weather, they risked having members wipe out or twist an ankle, so she called out warning the pack that the footing was dicey. But with the downpour of ice pellets, her voice only carried so far, and its message was perhaps a bit skewed by the white noise that surrounded her on all sides. She sighed gently, and resolved that she would just return to the den she shared with Colt, dry herself off, and nap until it was all over.

There was no point in hunting in this kind of weather either, so she decided to hit a cache later on in the day, in case the ice had begun to freeze. She was starting to get a bit hungry, but she didn’t want to be scuffling around in the ice and dirt to find a meal on her way back to the den. Truth be told, she was only hungry because she hadn’t eaten the day prior, and couldn’t remember if she’d even eaten the day before that. She’d tried to take care of herself, and Colt was keeping an eye on her too. While he was handling Ceara’s disappearance relatively well, Niamh could only think that the worst had happened to Ambrose. A lone wolf against a cougar wouldn’t stand a chance. Though no body had been found, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d only made it so much further away before the cougar had taken him down and possibly eaten him.

It frustrated her that she was not allowed to go searching for him the same way that several wolves had gone searching for Ceara. It seemed like the fiery woman had gotten special treatment, and that was treatment that was not on the table whatsoever for Ambrose. She had been jealous of Ceara before- after all, would the pack have moved so much to find her, if she’d gone missing? Or was Ceara simply a case that tugged on everyone’s heartstrings? She was the sort to be over-dramatic and blow things out of proportion so naturally, the others would want to see that she was safe. But what if Niamh had been kidnapped? Would they have gone searching for her, too? Colt would have- as he didn’t give a damn about what anyone else thought...But what about the others? She couldn’t help but doubt that any other wolves would care so much about her, as they cared about Ceara’s disappearance- especially now, when Ambrose’s injuries and disappearance were more or less being shuffled under the carpet.

Having been jealous of Ceara already didn’t help her at all in this current situation. Denied any right to search for him, Niamh had prowled the area endlessly, searching for any sign of either Ambrose or the cougar, but had found none. She was not allowed to go any further than that...And she found herself yearning to break free of those constraints. She wasn’t even allowed to send anyone else out looking for him, which damn near drove her crazy. Ceara’s special treatment had turned Niamh firmly against the fiery woman, who she was not sure she could accept if she came back. The little bit of progress they had made was disappearing like sidewalk chalk under the pressure of a heavy downpour. She knew that life allegedly wasn’t fair- but this amount of injustice was just beyond tolerance.

Still, she would abide by Quixote’s law even though it was beginning to turn her sour. Colt’s words resonated inside her in her mind, and she began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been right. Perhaps their alphas were corrupt, and had been doing things wrong. But would she ever be able to do better?

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a quicky <3

Colt knew that Niamh was struggling with Ambrose's disappearance.  He'd spoken a bit with her about it, and he was firm in his own opinion that she should go and search for him.  Quixote be damned.  He knew that if someone had told him no when he went to look for Ceara, he would have gone anyway.  He wasn't about to expect his mate to do any different.

He'd gone himself, just to see the spot.  The signs were disappearing, but what was left didn't look good.  He suspected the worst, and dreaded it for her sake.  

Colt was close enough to hear her scattered call of warning, and came out to perhaps join her, if she wanted company.  He fell in silently, with a glance over.  If it seemed she didn't he would leave, but if she did, he'd stay.

WC: 572

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As much as she detested the thought, it was time to give up on patrolling for the day. With the ground covered in a sandy blanket of ice pellets and the downpour of freezing rain, any markings she made would be gone in a matter of hours, and any trails in or out of the pack would disappear all the same. Her presence along the border would not be felt at all, until after the storm was over and she was able to return to reinforce their markings along the borders. Her spirits were as damp as the golden fur along her back as she turned her back to the borders and started on her way home, looking up when she finally saw movement in the distance, and through the falling, wet ice, she picked out the features of her mate.

She felt still that she was betraying him with every day that she lived and chose to abide by the set of rules she was given. Colt wanted more for her, and didn’t want her to bow down to someone else’s rules simply because they outranked her. She knew that he thought she should do what she want- she was a leader too, and had to be able to make her own judgement calls...But foolishly programmed to abide by the laws of the pack, she had only gone to the limits of the guidelines she’d been given before she turned back. Day after day she repeated to herself what she believed to be Quixote’s logic...And slowly it had begun to win her over, but her broken heart still begged her to give it all up and go searching properly for Ambrose. She felt she’d failed him, and had the growing sensation that she’d simply let him wander off and die, by not going to search for him.

She approached Colt with her head and tail hanging, back-turned ears clearly showing how much she hated the weather. Rain was one thing, and snow was another- but combining the two into heavy, wet ice pellets was just a cruel feat of nature. It was like walking on sand, with the ice pellets underfoot- and with the sudden downpour the layer of pebble-like ice pellets on the ground was about two inches thick. She had to spread her toes as she walked, and pick her way along slowly and carefully, making her look all the more downtrodden by the horrible weather, and the situation she was in. She paused, spread her legs a bit for stability and shook out her pelt a bit, and lost her footing in doing so as the layer of ice pellets beneath her feet shifted under the force of her shake. She swore loudly, but still her voice might have been lost on the clatter of ice falling on ice, and she colected herself indignantly and walked up to her mate, keeping her gaze down so that she didn’t get dinged in the eye by another pellet. They bounced off her muzzle and temples, and made her growl softly.

”This shit is garbage.” She muttered angrily into the fur of his ruff. ”Fuck it. Let’s go home,” She said, and made a beeline that would lead them directly back to their den, where she could finally get the layers of water and ice off her pelt, and shake the cold from her skin.

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She didn't seem to mind, but there was a pallor over her that worries him, as it had the last few days.  When Fire had gone missing, he'd felt he crackled with a sort of electric rage; every cell in him had raged against inaction, and he'd gone searching as a result, unable to stop.  Since then it had petered into a sort of unhappy worry, a gnawing in his gut.  But he didn't sense either of these in his mate.  She had lately seemed closed off and quiet, two things that very much did not bode well.

He nodded without speaking right away, then followed along back, his own brow wrinkling with annoyance at the weather.  What a shitty afternoon, really.  Winter wasn't the worst thing but combine wet and cold and you tended to get a special sort of hell out of it.

He'd woken up that morning with an ache in his legs, but luckily the run about had worked most of it out.  No fuckin way was he about to admit age was starting to hit him this winter, though he could feel the cold in his bones, and he knew it was probably all downhill from here.  Shit.  And here I was thinkin maybe we'd do a picnic by the lake, he said softly, trying to lighten her mood a tidge with a wry joke.  Would it work? Probably not.

wC: 298

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In response to what Colt said, Niamh wriggled her shoulders and walked past him just a bit, before she lifted her tail and unceremoniously slapped his shoulder with it. Having collected layers of water and ice, it made a loud, slapping sound against her mate, and sent water spraying so far that Niamh felt a few droplets land on her own nose. Fiendishly, for some reason, this worked out much better than she’d expected and prompted a sharp snort from her that immediately made her feel foolish afterwards. She turned her face a bit, to offer Colt a half-hearted grin which wasn’t terribly apologetic...She was still somewhat pleased with herself for that one. She’d have to remember that her tail worked perfectly as a sponge in the future, and slap someone else- someone like Tegan, who was just begging for a good slap at the best of times- or something like that.

”Y’ever wanna live somewhere that doesn’t get snow?” She asked. She wasn’t terribly serious about wanting to move- it would have taken a lot to drag Niamh away from the Plateau, even with all current things to be considered. One of the last conversations she’d had with Ceara, though, had been about where she’d lived before, and that was a place full of warmth and sand, where it didn’t exactly snow. Where this place was, she wasn’t sure- but she was aware of the fact that North was cold and the South was warm. ”Or just doing what the geese do, and go South for the winter.” She said, considering that maybe it’d be easier to travel to another winter home and then come back for the summer, rather than staying somewhere that it was hot and dry all year round.

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