Dawnlark Plains Cucumber Michael

@Sanguinus 

Sarah had been unwilling to let Maia go so soon after she had reunited with her, but there was another place she was calling home now and it was a long way to get there. She had almost walked with her, but the sense of duty and loyalty to Terance had held her back. She was a ghost around Lost Creek Hollow, hardly anyone missed her there, but she had a tiny glint of hope that someone would notice and worry, if she disappeared without a trace. If they had noticed her being part of the pack in the first place. 

Still she had to shamefully admit that her heart yearned for Maia's warmth more than for the indifference at the hollow. Therefore even few days after the meeting she still hung around the northern territories, confused and indecisive of what she should do. And her mother was of no help here either, whenever Sarah closed her eyes to summon her presence, she was there by her side, but silent. This was something Sarah had to figure out for herself.

When the celebrations died out and those among the festival's gathering began to part ways, Sang bid a farewell to those he'd met with and slipped off into the cover of night. He'd spent the last few days aimlessly wandering through woodlands and fields with no true direction in mind, for he was unfamiliar with the northern parts of the wilds since he'd spent the majority of his time in the central and western reaches. 

But the arctic chill that stung against his face was nostalgic to him and he found himself longing for the wintry ice caps he'd grown up by. The plains did well to ease his homesickness for the scattered blanket of snow reminded him of the meadow he'd trained in with only one major difference. Unlike back at Astellapor there was a silhouette roaming the pasture like a lost ghoul and Sanguinus, the ever curious beast, set off to investigate the grayscale figure. 

Someone's here! Sarah heard Osprey's voice in her head and out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother's spectre disappear. She always did that, when other people were around. Probably her mind's way of compensating the hours spent hallucinating. 

Sarah remained, where she was and focused her gaze on the dark-pelted shadow that was coming in her direction. She was not a wolf, who fled, rather met both friends and villains standing tall and proud, calm and observant. She narrowed her eyes to get better details of the approaching person and, once he came within such distance that they were able to communicate, her posture and body language, her expression told him to respect her personal space.

Where he would have liked to take a few steps closer, to investigate the scents that weaved between each strand of her fur, she clearly did not wish to be intruded upon and he would not disregard that wish just to satisfy his own curiosity. And so he came to a stop a decent distance away and fell to his haunches instead, allowing her to be the one to approach should she wish to do so. 

He let his maw dip in greeting while his tail beat against the snow laden field, a hallway smile making its way to slowly form along the edges of his lips while his gaze ran over her figure. From what the wind told him she was not a rogue, however the breeze was fickle and broke off before he could decipher much else, much to his displeasure. 

The male was a warrior in build and the scars on his face and body (where they were visible) told her about experience in battle and skill in survival. How many enemies had he met, how many had lost their lives in his jaws? Sarah could not decipher that from just looking and therefore retained a healthy wariness of him.

She - on the other hand - though had not frequented the battle field, had survived fire and for the first time since the tragic events that had torn her family apart, she felt pride for still being here. For a moment there she straightened herself up and looked at him with the eyes of a queen she had once been. "You must have a name," she suggested, canting her head to the side and waiting for his response.