Duck Lake cloud shadows on the mountain and our shadow on the mountainside

for @Zephyr -- other tags for reference

She supposed the only way to go was North. It called to her with the winter winds and she wondered if Gleipnir was beckoned by it to. She knew not what waited them up there. All her life had been spent in southern regions. Tucked into trees that fell, caves that carried secrets she would never know, a meadow that had welcomed them with cold arms. None of it was like the places she had found here.

Especially the large lake that spread across the land. On the western end laid a forest of aspens. She wished to know what she might find there. So she roughly explained to @Gleipnir that she would return to him soon, that she was off to the woods. She would find him again soon enough if he did not trail behind her.

It was there that she would find an unknown, mysterious scent. Content to trail after it until she either lost it, stumbled upon them, or found herself in need of retreating to her companion. She knew not whether the scent was prey or predator though. Perhaps even one of their own.

sorry this is so long and not much interaction, i got carried away LMAO. no need to match it ofc. also pping sakhmet a bit, lmk me if it needs to be changed!

He's become more accustomed to the feeling of snow beneath his paws, and to the chill that never seems to leave him now that winter has come. More than accustomed, really; he enjoys it. The cold helps him focus on becoming numb, and numbness is far preferable to his typical range of emotions. Helios is gone, and he has no other comfort that is not tainted by foul memories, so he clings to the cold and his solitude as if they are beloved childhood toys. In some ways, they are.
It's easier to find solitude outside the borders of Uaine Gorsedd, and that is where he lingers most of the time. Though, truth be told, he enjoys more than the solitude of unclaimed lands. He has started to crave the foreign sights of places he has never been before, the thrill of new discoveries and new acquaintances he never needs to meet again. There is no pressure in traveling aside tending his own needs, and that alone makes it more appealing than anything else. So he finds himself here, treading lightly alongside the lake's edge yet somehow a million miles away.
He has met many strangers in the last few weeks — wolves of vastly differing demeanors, wolves small and large, pale and dark, kind and cruel. The only theme among them seems to be a strange sort of certainty in the way each had projected themselves, a solidity of self and uniqueness that Zephyr has yet to learn. None of them seemed to doubt themselves the way he does, or regret their words immediately after saying them. Because they know how to say what they want and be what they want, he thinks, settling by the water and peering out across the eerily-still lake, and I don't. That's part of my weakness. His gaze drifts down to the smooth blue surface directly below him. He's startled by what he sees, immediately recognizing his own platinum fur and skinny limbs, and the healing wound on his shoulder.
He's always imagined himself a bit like Helios and dad, only smaller and lighter, a little thinner. But the reflection staring back at him reminds him more of his mother, like some freakish pale caricature; grotesquely slender and almost alien compared to other wolves, with features sharp enough to cut and wary, darting eyes. His gaze traces the harsh upward slope where he should have a strong, broad curve of the jaw, the spindly tapering of his muzzle, the absurdly wide folds of ear-flesh tucked awkwardly against his skull. Narrow and odd, and nothing like Helios. He swallows, shifts, skin crawling. Even the smallest movement seems wrong, suddenly, like he doesn't quite fit into his own body. He shifts again, restless, imagining his skin as a suffocating, unwieldy husk that will split and fall away at any moment. It might even be a relief, but he knows it will not happen. Everything about me is wrong, he realizes, turning away from the water abruptly.
The ruddy girl in the distance is a welcome distraction from the moment he lays eyes on her. He's almost relieved enough to forget that she's a girl — but not entirely, so he lets her approach him, lingering by the water's edge and studying her in silence. He doesn't truly desire company, or he might have come up with something to say already, but he isn't about to turn her away either. A bad distraction is better than no distraction at all, surely; anything to block out the lingering image of himself for awhile.

She noted them upon the water's edge. Silvery, shimmery as if they had come from the waters. Lean and sharp in their build. Another girl perhaps? Such company had seemed to be a rarity in her adventures away from the woods. There was some relief in the fact that this was not a hulking beast. She need not depend upon Gleipnir to strike someone down for her or send out a wardog on a hunt.

Slow and mindful in her approach, it took her a few long moments to get close enough to feel confident in speaking as though she might be heard. Do you live here? It was not a traditional greeting but there was still softness (and curiosity) in her tone. The place is beautiful, stunning even in these winters, and should would not be surprised if others called it their own.

He's a little surprised by the question, but the feeling is quickly overwhelmed by his more judgmental tendencies; another trait inherited from his mother, though he'll never know. I should've expected a stupid girl to ask stupid questions, he tells himself, ignoring the way the thought makes him feel even smaller and uglier than before. If there were wolves living here, they'd be ripping you apart right now, He tells her, voice icy. There is a lingering undertone of "and so would I" to his words, but he leaves that unspoken. They wouldn't stop, even if you begged. You should remember that, he almost adds, but he doesn't want the girl to think he's concerned about her or anything. He's not.