Cedar Sweep he lost his way and found it in the dark
Ghost
he came and stole the wild
1,808 Posts
Ooc — Chan
Master Coach
Master Historian
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#1
Private 
ATTN: @Allure
Note: Set at the Froskhawks border, but he'll make a move in his next post if she doesn't see him!

Rannoch had taken it upon himself to frequent the territory's perimeters, as Raven and Quixote's newborns had claimed their full attention. Rannoch and Liffey were in an entirely different season with their youngest litter; Aengus, Tiarnach, Eshe, and Sionnach had become more independent, allowing him more time to devote himself to the pack. 

The sky was awash with periwinkle and peach, as dim implications of the forthcoming twilight twinkled overhead. Rannoch knew that it was around suppertime and that he was expected to return home, but something had prevented him from abandoning from his patrol. He had spotted some fireflies in the distance, a considerable treck into the neighboring sweep, and he was all too tempted to watch the show. Pulled between duty and diversion, Rannoch lingered at the borders and looked longingly into the forest before him.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
he came untied, solid as a stone
all is almost lost and it starts to show
you can't wake up, this is not a dream
205 Posts
Ooc — Rachel
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#2
@Rannoch sorry for the wait, hun!

They traveled quietly through the Wilds. Shrike was her ever-patient companion, humoring her as the bi-toned fallen angel tried to figure out what it was she expected in the next chapter of their life. Children had eluded them, and Allure felt the abuse of her body from her previous captors could be the only logical reason, and the thought always stirred pain and panic in her white chest.

Every so often her shoulder would brush against her mate’s, seeking unspoken reassurance from him.

Today she ventured further from him, though @Shrike was never far. Her paws led her to the sweep, her eyes roving the forests before her with appreciation. She had been born to a mountain—but she had lived among forests for most of her life. The trees within the Hinterland were comforting to her, and her aqua eyes stole over the dancing fireflies.

Dusk was upon them, and the woman considered seeking the warm embrace of her mate for the evening, but her eyes fell upon a broad figure nearby—his stark silver pelt seeming to brighten within the dimming sky.
Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me?
Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?