The Heartwood so she walked away, devastation in her world

@Hieronymous :)

A wasteland it was, or had once been, devoid of life, as still and silent as the Ovate who infringed upon its borders. 

There was nothing for her here; beneath a carpet of fallen leaves and a layer of crackling hoarfrost lay only the barren fields of a razed forest. Even so, Dwyn prodded at clumps of ice, pawed damp leaves aside to investigate the land of death lying just beneath in the hopes of discovering a juicy salamander or toad hibernating within the chilled muck. 

Alas, no such luck; with a soft snort that plumed the air with pale vapor, the Dragonborn ambled on - turning resolutely north. 

There was no destination in mind, no end goal to strive towards. She was but a vagabond, drifting in a foreign sea towards whatever fate the stars had aligned for her. Again, as if on cue, Emira's last words echoed within her auds. 

"Find your own kind. Find your tribe." 

A grimace tugged at the corners of her rosy lips. This dispersal life left something to be desired, certainly, but Clan life? The former slave could scarcely imagine actively seeking out 'her kind'. 

Wolves were not fond of canines or halfbreeds, at least in her experience. And if she were to be basing such a decision off her past experiences, the girl would never again join any sort of coalition - not if that was what awaited her. 

"Alone, better," she whispered in the tongue of Druids, flinching as the scrape of her vocals startled her. 

Snapping her jaws shut with an audible click, cornflower and cotton candy flicked to and fro fearfully - as if expecting the wispy words to have brought down an assailant. 

Gooseflesh erupted across her skin as she picked up her pace, imagining vile monsters, vile men, lurking amongst the trees.

It was no vile monster or man that lurked in the shadows - but a smile on thinning lips as the hero trotted onward in the famine. Painted banister flying behind him in a friendly display, wandering around outside of Kaistleoki borders in hopes of bringing back anything for the pack to eat. A clean stream to fish perhaps, but there was no luck. 

Most would feel utter despair, the bleak and cold hands of depression strangling and choking out any ounce of hope they felt - and yet here he was, a stupid grin nevertheless. 

Times were hard enough as it was, there was no need to add to the desperation by bringing his own melancholy to the table. The least he could do was try to be that light in the dark to distract as many as possible from the torment of hunger that pained them all.

Just as he pondered returning to Kaistleoki empty-handed, which he dreaded most of all but it was better than getting lost in unknown lands for long, his head perked atop his shoulders as he spotted an unfamiliar figure in the distance. One with odd markings such as he, a diluted piebald which beckoned him to investigate and greet the figure. Perhaps see if they knew of any food that may be laying around. 

With a chuff he attempted to gain her attention first before speaking, lithe paws bounding forward excitedly despite how tired his body must feel. Salutations comrade in painted pelts, how do you fair today? Start off slow, there was no need to be greedy.

As if conjured by her addled thoughts, he materializes. 

He comes with the sound of a bear: thick, heavy footfalls thudding against the frozen earth. The Druid jumps to a halt, drawing back half a step with wide eyes. It doesn't quite seem possible for one man to be so large - the male before her is not quite tall but rather, bulky with muscle. 

It's not just the Commoner's build that distracts her but his coat; such a coat as his, she'd never seen - not even on her piebald dam and aunt. A patchwork of blacks, greys, and whites, the colors of truths, painted him; splotched and splattered like an abstract masterpiece. 

She might have almost mistaken him for a creature of the wood, if not for his eyes. Equally captivating, and mismatched much like her own, the mirth they held could not have been anything but evidence of sentient life.

Dwyn's feathered ears twitched at the string of words, brow rumpling in frustration as she processed through them - ears ringing as if she'd never before heard language.
With a thick swallow that tugged at the scars crisscrossing her throat, the halfbreed attempted to reply. 

"Hi," the northron nymph managed to lilt softly, going so far as to let the curly tail waving above her hocks wag welcomingly. 

She found she could not quite meet his gaze, scenting the cologne of pack upon his flesh. Some part of her was terrified by the notion of his being a possible paladin, ranging outwards in search of resources: food, land, women. Such was the way of Primul, the only way she knew. 

Yet, there was a natural exuberance about the man, something about him that put others at ease. Even the Ovate was relaxed, or as relaxed as she could be - slightly lowered on her haunches in deference, head ducked demurely as instinct dictated. 

Such was the cause for her alias to fall from rose petal lips with the gentle scrape of tree branches caught in a spring shower. 

"Dwyn." Her silver streaked chin bobbed briefly, towards her own chest as if to introduce herself, before her gaze shyly lifted to his chest - whetting her lips anxiously; it would not dare rise higher. 

"You?"

Friendly. Though shy, the young lady was friendly enough to offer Hieronymous an amicable swish of the tail and continue the small conversation he had initiated. Softly and quietly maybe, but at least he wasn't ignored. Now he was able to soak in her appearance, she was small, smaller than most wolves he had ever seen, perhaps she was one of those mix-breeds he had seen a few times before in his travels. They were more common than one would think, and he himself was often mistaken for one due to his odd coloration. 

Even her curvy tail indicated more so that she was a dog mix rather than a coyote, no coyote he has ever seen had such a trait. 

He couldn't help but notice how she wouldn't look at him in the face, it piqued his interest as his head naturally dropped just enough to try and beckon her to talk to him eye to eye rather than him staring at her from above the neck. Dwyn. he repeated her name softly before taking his own exuberant bow. Lowering his head closer to the earth, a paw tucked under his belly, while his tail flagged above him in its own rhythm of glee. 

 Greetings lady Dwyn. I am Hieronymous, a newcomer to Kaistleoki. I come seeking food, I know these are trying time for all, but it wouldn't hurt to ask? Lifting his head just enough, he kept his bow and winked playfully.