Shadewood shake your bones
I once saw the end of my life.
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#1
All Welcome 
Hunter Specialty: Tracker 1/10 (checking caches)[Image: gamekeeper.gif]

Late afternoon brought a sliver of dim gold leaking through the thick clouds above, streaking across the frozen earth but failing to thaw enough for the brown dirt or vivid grass to show beneath. Gwen's eyes were trained sharply onto the white crystals, frowning at the tracks plastered below: similar shape to a wolf's, but slimmer, a touch smaller. Coyote, she thought with a small huff of displeasure - she had tracked it from near the fringes of the territory on a regular border patrol, and her frown was deepening the closer they grew to the nearest cache.

Her suspicions proved to be correct; a small mound of upturned soil and snow was piled beside the unearthed cache. A miniscule trail of crimson led into the undergrowth, and without hesitation the empress set about discovering the story of what had occured here. Searching the cache displayed that the leg of a rabbit had been torn and scavenged away, but overall the damage was minimal - at the very least, there was no danger to be found here.
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Okay, so he wasn't entirely up-to-speed on the Redhawks becoming two distinct packs or anything, but he knew his parents had moved to a territory nearby and he saw that as their retirement going in to stronger effect. He didn't choose to go with them - Tywyll was enamored by the idea of being parentless for the first time in his life, as any teenager might be. His efforts to be noticed didn't seem to work out either; those that remained within the Redhawks were too busy with the coming of spring (and Tywyll wasn't well versed in that yet either). Feeling somewhat abandoned but mostly free to to whatever, he decided to start exploring outside of his family home.

Today he went west, following the ridge until the plateau stopped being familiar and some dark trees swarmed in his vision. He was unafraid, filled with that stupid-kid-bravado that most tenth graders exuded, and thus he went traipsing through the woodland without any care to the scents or sounds around him. He noticed a collection of mark-scents that should have clued him in, but he was feeling particularly bold today — so he raised a leg and pissed all over that mark, chuckling to himself all the while. Once he was finished, he scraped at the dirt with his hindpaws and went on his way.

However, he didn't get far. The scent of wolf was prevalent but so was the scent of food, with an earthy twinge, and it got him curious. Tywyll bee-lined for that smell and only stopped when he noticed a pearly white stranger investigating some darkness ahead of himself. Maybe if he was sneaky enough he could get closer — but even as he thought this, reaching with a careful step and putting his weight down, the twigs beneath his broad paws crackled like bubblewrap, and would serve to pinpoint his location in the shadows.
I once saw the end of my life.
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#3
Sorting through what remained of the cache proved her hypothesis to be true - the coyote must have fought an attempt to thieve a rabbit's body, eager to feast on the warmth of the corpse, but it had not succeeded in finishing the job. Something had scared it off before it could complete the task, blood in small scatters around the mouth of the hole; likely, it was still around, awaiting the moment that the snow empress would depart. Unfortunately for the creature, she did not intend to leave until she had secured the safety of the rest of the prey, determined to keep her wolves fed and healthy. After al-

-Snap.

Whizzing around, Gwen's ears slipped forward and her nose reached into the air, stationary and noiseless, studying and anticipating. Originally, she'd believed it only to be the coyote, stricken with terror after having accidentally revealed its hiding place, but soon this proved false. Another scent washed to her on the waves of the wind, and an ivory tail raised instinctively; whoever this was, they were not one of the Keep's. "Who's there?"
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A voice called out — lancing at the dark, piercing the veil of shadow which shrouded him, and he startled back as if struck hard. Just as the woman was surprised, so was Tywyll; he felt his heart leap in to his throat and every hair stand on-end, and he stumbled loudly back a few paces with a sharp gasp. As he staggered and found his footing, he expected the feeling to drain away; he wasn't afraid of the voice, and the stranger who owned it was not chasing him or anything, but... For some reason he couldn't shake the anxious sensation that crawled beneath his skin.

He felt a bit light-headed at first. His jaw hurt, and he realized he'd started to clench it, and willed himself to relax — just chill out, go talk to them or something — and Tywyll managed to step towards the stranger's location in the dark wood. His own swarthy body was made to look like a sentient shadow; his bright eyes like sparks of fellfire drifting between the trees, lured close like a moth to her bright, pale coat. The boy opened his mouth and said, Sorry! I didn't mean t'scare, uh, scare, y.. y--hhhwhh but he couldn't speak for long, the air seemed to get thin around him. He tried to gulp air but -- he just -- couldn't --- what was going on? Why did his neck hurt -- his chest? He couldn't breathe --- he ---

— and just like that, the boy plopped to the dirt, his heart straining to beat while he floundered, fish-like, gasping for air.
I once saw the end of my life.
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#5
What had presented itself to her in a flurry of gasping was not what she had anticipated.

Breathless, stuttering, and then gone. His shadowed body collapsed to the frozen earth, and the empress swept her gown forward in hurry to his side, any fraction of defensive caution cast away to the wind - she didn't care if this caused her trouble, there was a young boy in need, cut off from whoever he called family. For now, with whatever transpired next, she would give herself over to aid him, coyote and stolen prey forgotten. "Hey," came the voice that fled her lips, void of malice and stuffed with warmth. Her stomach bubbled with concern, but the snowbird willed herself not to tremble at the sight. "Shh, hey, I'm not going to hurt you, alright? It's okay. I promise," feigned confidence was all she could produce.

His lack of ability to breathe shook her deep to the core... she'd seen it before. In herself. In others. The lack of control you had, when pressed to the ground and heaving, head dizzy and mind whirling, was one of the most horrible experiences to befall anyone, let alone a youngster - so she tried her best. "It'll be over soon," she crooned to him, leaning down so she was close but failing to touch him; it might have triggered something further. "Breathe slowly. In... out... in... and out, don't rush, everything will be just fine."

She prayed it would.
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Age was typically a factor when it came to heart-attacks, but maybe he'd been born with something wrong with his. Someone had always been missing in Tywyll's life and maybe it was a piece of himself. He was down in the dirt, fluctuating wildly between feelings of anxiety and the sensation of his chest constricting, forcing a numbness to creep through his limbs. Was he dying? Maybe. Was he frightened? Very much so. He wanted to kick and scream and call for help — call for his mother, who had left him for the Firebirds — but all he could do was gasp for air while the stranger watched over him. She seemed just as startled as he was, and tried to calm him down. Telling him to breathe. Telling him things would be fine. He'd be okay once this - whatever it was - passed.

Gradually the attack softened. He could suck in air at a more regulated pace. The ache in his chest would not subside for quite a while yet and he felt weak, weaker than he'd ever felt before — but Tywyll was just a kid and he'd never known his own limitations, never gotten the chance to figure that stuff out. Now he was limited because the attack likely left his heart fragile. The boy let loose a pathetic whine and crawled towards the safety that the stranger's warm body presented.
I once saw the end of my life.
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#7
A breath of air fled her lips as the ebony boy's heaving slowed to a far gentler pace, gasps softening, steadying; never was there a more relieving sight. "See? You got this," the snow empress lowered herself to the frozen earth, allowing him to creep closer in comfort - she would let him rest beside her for as long as he required. It would be cruel to send him away from the keep's security so soon.

But what to do?

Gwen had no knowledge of where this youth had come from - the scent on his fur reminded her briefly of the redhawks claim, but she knew it better to ask than to assume (what if he had no home?). So she'd wait, wrap him in her warm embrace until he was steady enough to speak.

Eventually after a while of quietude, the silence grew heavier, and the queen's mouth parted to speak softly to the boy. "...Do you mind me asking your name?" came the half whisper, though she'd understand if he found himself unwilling to speak as of yet - she had plenty of patience, and waiting was no issue.
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