Dawnlark Plains why men great 'til they gotta be great?
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All Welcome 
She'd once more tried to get to the coast, only to find it utterly inhabitable. Waves, storms, chaos. . .fuck all that. It made her a little sad to see Mother Sea so angry, only she knew that it wasn't her that had incurred Her wrath. Astrateia had been a dutiful daughter from birth. A full-hearted Nereid.

Full-hearted, but not full-blooded. It hadn't been a thrall that had put his seed within Phoebe but some rogue, a blue-eyed, black-furred charmer. Hell, her mother hadn't even gotten his name. She had no way of tracking him down, ever. And so she would forever be fatherless. . .

Not that she minded. Really, why should she? Her mother had been enough for her. Would always be more than enough, just as she would be enough for her own brood, someday.

But no, even though Astrateia yearned for the sea, she could not reach it. It was too turbulent. So she remained within the taiga, traveling slowly, aimlessly. She was on a mission but had been scattered from her sisters; the warrioress had no notion of where to go next. She had been thrown completely off-kilter.

Instead, she trotted across the plains, looking for game that no one was finding, because they, too, had fled the chaos for greener, calmer pastures.
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are we all lost like you?
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Ooc — Jaclyn
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He had run from Easthollow, and had not stopped, not even to look back. His muscles burned from overuse, and he would feel the ache if he rose the next day. For now, his adrenaline numbed the pain, and he carried on. Needing to put as much distance between himself and the plains as he possibly could. They would know his trail, they would find it - but they couldn't find him. He would make sure of that.

Distance was his only ally. The further he tore from Easthollow, the heavier his reason and surety of mind returned. One, that Leta was fine. Two, that he had seen Greyback breathing. Three, that Indra -- 

His pace slowed. He breathed. Three, that Indra had found the herds, and had followed them. She would return, successful or not.

The trees thinned to reveal a large expanse. He finally stopped to look and see where his paws had taken him.

The same dusting of snow covered the ground of Dawnlark Plain, as it had way back when he had been not even a yearling. When he had followed his mother out to Elysium, and he first found her in a tryst with Grey --

A smear of grey distracted him; he thought no further on Elysium. Instead he watched as the stranger moved with a clip across the plain -- a pace that spoke of more than mere wandering -- and not for the first time, he remembered that there was life outside of Easthollow. That there were wolves who did not know them, who would never tangle in their affairs, and who had lives and goals and pursuits of their own. Most of these lives, he would never know, and he wondered how Easthollow, and all his problems, and all their problems, could feel so very big --

and truly next to everything, be so very small.
with quiet words I'll lead you in
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She saw the multi-hued wolf from a distance; her head turned slightly to better take him in. When it was clear that he wasn't on his way, and continued to stare, Artemis changed course with a huff, heading in his direction. Her tail flagged proudly as she approached—no distance from the sea would quell the fire of a Nereid, especially around a man. No. . .a boy.

What are you looking at? she asked, although it came out strange and stilted in her heavy accent, rather than the glib opener it would have been in her mother tongue. Her vivid gaze surveyed him impassively, her breathing only slightly faster than normal from the run.

She was in good shape, and she knew it well. If this one caused trouble, Artemis was sure she could handle it.
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are we all lost like you?
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He should have kept moving, and now was too late; the sterling woman had already turned in her course, already charted her way toward him, moving with a dignity that seemed less fitting of a stray, and more in line with the approach of a sovereign. Merrit turned his eyes from her, cheeks burning beneath his fur.

"Ah - no - I didn't intend - " - what was he thinking, staring down a stranger like that? And a woman, to boot? Get distracted by the clouds, fool -- and he hadn't been thinking -- at least, not in the ways he should have been. The skew of her voice suggested her roots lay somewhere other than the Wilds, a curiosity, but right now he could only focus on covering his slight against her. Merrit tipped his head in a shallow bow. "Forgive me of my rudeness, miss. I didn't intend to stare -- my thoughts were entirely elsewhere." 
with quiet words I'll lead you in
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Young fool. He stumbled over his words and she gained pleasure from it: schadenfreude. Still, she didn't let it show over her face, which was much like stone as he spoke. She wasn't interested in any of his thoughts. Those were likely of no use to her.

Your name? Artemis queried in a firm tone, staring imperiously at the boy. Your place? She might as well learn some of the local geography and politics while she was here, even if she wasn't here for very long.
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are we all lost like you?
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Her attitude chafed him, in ways that left his mind unsettled. Something about this felt decidedly wrong -- and he looked to her, to find himself met with pale eyes and an unwavering face of stone. He couldn't read her, and he felt heat sting the length of his chest. With his thoughts so fresh on Leta --

His face composed. What was his name and his place to her?

"Stark," he said, brusque and too easy, and he lifted his head as though proud to carry the name -- yet shame dug her nasty claws up the cavity of his throat, but he let her crawl no further. "I have no place," his tongue felt parched, "They are no longer mine."

And he ached with every word -- for this moniker, this history, this was not his own. But how much were they becoming his?
with quiet words I'll lead you in