Little Goat Mountain it's a happy new year

ooc notice i'm terribly sorry for the delay; work had gotten unexpectedly busy for the past couple of days! but, i managed to complete her profile, whoo ~ 

· · · Heavy snow, nearly no-visibility (less than quarter of a mile), 26 ° F; late afternoon

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While the Storjford daughter was no longer coated with the ash, soot, and other debris caused from the wildfire that happened a couple of weeks ago before the first fallen snow in her hometown, it was clear that Chumani wasn't out of the woods just yet. Her air-ways still sounded clogged up; hoarse and raspy, this was clear by the congested cough that erupted out of larynx every couple of steps that were taken as the heavy snow covered across her blackened coat, hiding the graying hairs on the back of her neck. Her ears were flattened against the top of her skull as her head was held low, tucking the narrow chin close to the pit of her crowning plume of hair that surrounded her neck, eyes squinting to instinctively protect the iris, as her long, lanky, but somewhat sturdy limbs carried her starving physique across the base of the Little Goat Mountain. Her ribs and hip-bones were protruding through the thin layer of skin that protected her muscles, vital organs, and bones.  
 It only took a split of a second for her attention to lift; ears rolling on top of her skull, standing at attention as if she were bearing arms and it was held at a stance of: ready and waiting, tail falling limp behind her rump, as a scuttling sound was heard in the snow as if the critter was trying to bury itself further away from the approaching black she-wolf. The sound was non-mistakable: it was a small rodent, a mere morsel in the case of the larger canid, but it should satisfy her. 
Her muscles tensed, allowing the blood and oxygen to run rampantly throughout her entire body, as her dull green eyes were narrowing, immediately focusing on the rustling sound that was trying to get further and further away from her as a grumbling sound exploded out of bit of her stomach. At that particular moment, the critter seemed to instinctively scurry faster, burying itself deeper into the snow — and Chumani knew that it was now or never! She arched her back slightly, tucking her front half closer to her rear as the black she-wolf suddenly leapt into the air and dive-bombed into the thick snow below, similar to how other smaller canids (i.e. foxes) were seen doing, burying her head and part of her limbs in the ground as the narrow snout began to shove through the snow.

no biggie <3 weird post b4 benadryl takes me lmao

A moon ago, the fairylight might not have ever dared lope so near to the wayfarers' foxen hollow; but all regard had been as autumn: flushed, brimming, and utterly ephemeral. Yuletide had deigned fit to bestow upon her wormwood, rather than wishes  —  thus, there was much ado about nothing as Andraste flit past the golem-limned hold of Diaspora; much more in favor for what remnants of Sunspires has since remained unseen.

More hill than mountain, amongst the majesty of these frore-peaks;
she can only assume that this is some restlessness within her errant spirit at the selkie's proclamation; that which has driven her to take flight so far from her own Court. Perhaps it is a bit reprieve of duty; perhaps it is to see where now that bedamned lioness lurks; perhaps it is some wreathing request of said spirit that the fée cannot question, only follow; and, perhaps still, it is to see the sight before her;
a yearling embodiment of spilled ink.

Had she looked the same, when she herself had sacrificed dignity in the name of diving for the sake of dining? Quiet, wary; disturb the rook she would not;
but if she were to be without breath, the stricken would not hesitate to aid in some manner or other.

ooc notice: no worries it is still a beautiful post (despite the med), now im just waiting for my own med to kick in~ 

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The black she-wolf knew that her hunting strategy was a bit bizarre for a larger canid such as herself, but the Storjford girl was simply playing the role of a mimic in order to hopefully be successful on getting a ‘happy meal’ size bite for her noisy gut. Her head had forcibly shoveled her snout into the thick blanket of snow, eyes closing shut to protect her fragile eyelids, as her ears flattened against the top of her skull, blissfully unaware of the white she-wolf that was silently watching Chumani as the yearling continued to make a feeble attempt for a tiny morsel that likely wouldn’t even satisfy her hunger. But, her hunger urged her to push onward and command her to try. 
However, it was quickly deemed as a failure and with a soft growl vibrating out of her larynx, Chumani lifted her nose, pulling her snout out of the white blanket of snow, as a hoarse cough erupted in a hasty attempt to clear her airway. At first, the black she-wolf didn’t notice the other she-wolf, but when Chumani did, it caused the Storjford daughter to jump out of her skin. Her heart began to race as fast as speeding automobiles circled a track, pumping a supply of blood throughout her entire body, as her adrenaline was kicked up a few levels in response. 
 “Oh my god—” Chumani announced as her tone reflected her jumpy behavior, trying to catch her breath as the black girl probed herself to calm down. “I didn’t realize anyone was watching!” She mentioned, refusing to say that she was actually thinking about; it was rude to stare!  

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Thin ears faltered from their curious cusp;
yet the silver was anything but offended. She was not one for staring  (or, so she thinks)  yet it does not take all that long to muse lightly, fairly,  "Forgive me. I only meant to look after your wellness,"  argent halfsights flickering over the inkspun figure out of a herbalists' habit,  "for it is not so often that I find another in a situation that was, once, not unlike my own."  Shorn brow writ itself with calm concern, neverminding the airy bite of the youth's words:  "You ... are well, are you not?"

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At first, the Storjford daughter had the strongest urge to blurt out a question to her white counterparts' decision to look after her well-being; for she was a mere stranger after-all. Chumani didn't know anything about Andraste and vise-versa, Andraste did not know anything about the black she-wolf, but that didn't stop the white wolf from inquiring about her health status ( . . . not one bit ). She could've asked, but she refrained as Andraste continued to speak. Within a few seconds, the white she-wolf had finished and her ears instantly flowed back against her skull as a loud sigh escaped passed her parting mouth. 
She couldn't lie! Chumani knew that she wasn't well. Her chin dipped for a brief moment before it begun to repeatedly shake itself from one side to the next. "GAAAHH—!" The Storjford girl stressed as her chin angled itself to look at Andraste as her dull eyes stole a quick glance at the white girl before it was shamefully shifted to the side. For a moment, Chumani didn't know what to say. Should she explain her whole entire life-story from beginning to the end? A lot of her problems reflected events that happened during her childhood, but the black she-wolf didn't want to burden the white counterpart with her novel of a story. Should Chumani just inform her about the cough? Maybe, Andraste would be able to assist her with aiding her health— but, that was only simply because Andraste had seen her failed attempt to grab a tiny morsel. "I'm not well," Chumani admitted with a raspy tone. "—And, I don't know where to begin. . ." the Storjford finished. 
She was being truthful, Chumani didn't know how to respond. 

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