Shadewood on the altar of a sunrise
Ghost
So then find Dodge, then get out of it
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Ooc — Jess
Warrior
Master Guardian
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#2
In the wake of Colt's death, there eventually came a time when Niamh knew she ought to inform those who were his friends and family. Her first task had been to speak with Towhee, and she'd chosen to leave the task of telling Quixote and Raven to another Blackthorn, as she didn't particularly want to face them. The news had spread, then, that the Frosthawks would be moving yet again- not too far away, but far enough that it would not be convenient for them to be considered a sister-pack, in Niamh's opinion. Still, she simply acknowledged their need to find a new place to live, especially with the Blackfeather wolves beginning to creep their way further West than they ought tread. 

She remembered being told about the alpha of Shadewood Keep, who Colt had spoken about from time to time as he might speak about an old friend. Cry had been his name, though Niamh wasn't sure she'd ever met him personally. She'd investigated the Shadewood wolves when they'd first come to found a pack in that area, and had let them know that the Plateau hunting grounds were out of bounds for them, if they wished to live in peace. They'd been respectful, and Colt had admitted that he'd gone to Cry more than once for advice, and for a friendly chat...So she figured she owed it to her mate to let his friend know of his passing. 

Of course, she'd had no idea that Shadewood had disbanded, and took off on her journey nonetheless. It meant crossing a few bodies of water that lay in her way, including one river which split in the middle...And she remembered the area well. She and Towhee had once tracked Screech all the way there, only to be distracted when they found Orca's body near the cliffs. She put that incident out of her mind as she forded the last river, pulling herself from the water and giving her golden coat a shake, but she froze as she took a few steps along the shore, only to notice a lack of markings. 

She sniffed as she raised her head, casting her gaze further into the Shadewood, beyond the rugged trunks and through leaves which were already beginning to transform to their autumn shade. Flicking an ear back in uncertainty, she moved forward, and began to slip through the shadows of the aptly named forest, moving as quietly as possible just in case she was making some sort of mistake. This was where Cry had lived- but with the more ground she covered, the more she became assured that the pack no longer claimed this area as its own. 

She felt discouraged. Yet another pack had disbanded in this area- how many others would do so before the winter? Was this the sign of some impending change that would tear them all apart and send them in search of shelter with packs far from what they considered to be their homelands? She felt shaken, and gave up on her search, turning from the woodlands and heading toward the river. She couldn't smell Cry here- whatever fate had befallen him, it did not appear as though he was in the immediate area. 

The glint of light on water caused her to squint for a moment as she neared the forest's edge, and she paused as she saw something dark silhouetted against the bright light of the edge of the forest. She swiftly slipped behind a tree trunk and peered out around it, unable to identify any particular markings on the creature as it moved through the shadowy woodlands. Anything could be disguised here, and with the scent of fresh water and moist earth so close and thick in the shadowy woods, it was difficult to peg the wolf's scent. The mushrooms and fungi growing on the forest floor had begun to turn and fade, releasing an earthy scent that would make stalking a difficult task. It wasn't until she saw the stranger move a certain way what she was able to make out the distinct, gaping socket where his right eye should have been...And the odd shape around his neck, some sort of materiel Niamh wasn't familiar with- but it did not quite cover the bald patch on his throat where a scar forbade the fur from regrowing. Whatever that thing was about his neck, she didn't care. She knew who it was she was watching. 

"I was told you were still alive," She said quietly, as she moved forth, still basking in the shadows so that he might not freak out and bolt away from her as soon as he realized who it was that stalked him...And if he did- she was ready.
Messages In This Thread
on the altar of a sunrise - by Titmouse (Ghost) - September 05, 2019, 02:20 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by RIP Niamh - September 05, 2019, 05:05 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by Titmouse (Ghost) - September 05, 2019, 05:30 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by RIP Niamh - September 05, 2019, 11:27 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by Titmouse (Ghost) - September 06, 2019, 10:24 AM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by RIP Niamh - September 06, 2019, 03:02 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by Titmouse (Ghost) - September 06, 2019, 05:28 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by RIP Niamh - September 07, 2019, 01:32 AM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by Titmouse (Ghost) - September 09, 2019, 04:10 PM
RE: on the altar of a sunrise - by RIP Niamh - September 13, 2019, 06:36 PM