Blackfoot Forest In a World of Shattered Skies

@Hemlocke. Night. Light snow. Set just outside the entrance to Blue Spring Caves.

Tzila was restless. A feeling she was becoming intimately familiar with. She had adjusted to the death of Vengeance, struck down by Hela. She did not miss him. Did not mourn for him. However, to say she was thrilled with having a mere child leading the Nightwalkers did not settle well with her. But she wasn't so ruffled as to take matters into her own paws and challenge for leadership herself. She would wait in the shadows, as always, to see how things played out.

Hela may be the new Warlord, but Tzila was hardly the sort to bend to the wills of others. Much less someone significantly younger than her. Thus, she felt no obligation to be tied down back home. She did as she pleased, when it suited her. To cope with the tension and uncertainty buzzing through her nerves, the Shadow Queen reverted back to her old ways. Under the cover of darkness, with gentle flakes falling from a lightless sky, she stole away from the Haunted Wood for a time, alone. 

Happened upon a new forest of sorts, this one reminded her very much of home, minus the mist. The distant screeches of foxes rung in her ears as a reminder that this place was far from empty. Annoyed by the shrill cries...much preferring silence, she tried to put as much distance between herself and the vermin as possible. The land begun its transition from forest to mountain, and she let it guide her, as of yet unaware the secret withheld.

Hemlocke was, without a single doubt, completely and utterly lost. The young wolf didnt know where he was or where he was going and the constant screeching of foxes reminded him that this could not be a place to settle and call home. After being exposed into a livelihood of valleys, Hemlocke had come to fall in love with the dark forests that reminded him nothing of what he had long since left behind. The seclusion, the cover, the hidden secrets... wandering amongst the forests brought him a certain sense of comfort he had not held since the death of the crone. 

After his mother's death, he didnt know what to do with himself. Life had been clung at her side, both by her unrelentingly love and overbearing protection. He had never known loneliness and yet had never fully socialized with anyone but his mother. (Getting a Norman Bates vibe here!) He felt uncomfortable amongst the pack that feared he and his mother so and as such, left, only to wander months alone, cold, and hungry. 

His otherwise thin form was even more so, his ribs very much visible even with his thick, dark winter coat. Food had been awfully scarse, as usual for the winter season. Being a lone wolf at this time was horribly dangerous and yet he felt as though he had no choice in the manner of leaving. Sadly, the shadow paused, red wine eyes looking through the darkness of the forest, the cries of the foxes fading as the terrain had become rockier. Now he cries, lifting up his muzzle and howling out a low, haunting call to the heavens.

The screeches of the foxes grew more and more distant, and then stopped altogether when another sound filled the air. The distinct howl of one of her own. Kin. Somewhere out here in this great network of a forest. She pauses, a paw suspended in midair. Her tail flicks as she debates with herself. Is she really in the mood for company? Sighing, Tzila decided that it couldn't hurt just to see what this stranger was all about.

Tipping her head back, she returned his cry with a long, low howl of her own. Her voice was powerful. Haunting and mysterious. As she continued to make her way along her originally chosen path, he would eventually find her, tucked within the very shadows and blackness from which she was formed.

The shadow looked up to the heavens, every star, even the moon, smothered by the dusty clouds which gently spilled the snows the met the earth. Hemlocke fluttered his eyes at the flakes and devilishly pointed ears perked as his call was returned. It was a match of his own dark and mysterious tones, as many wolves were - especially in the twilight. Yet hers was more powerful, less melancholy of his own. 

She had accepted his lonely call by offering him a chance for company. He longed for it, for all his life he had been side by side with family. Yet, he feared it, for she was not his  mother. She was not family, but a stranger. But she was a wolf and a seemingly accepting one at that, company surely far better then the screeching of the foxes, silenced only momentarily due to the sounds of their much larger cousins. 

The shadow slipped forth, closing the distance between them, his heart heavy in his barrelled chest, fluttered. When he could see her clearly, not far, he would pause. Deep burgundy eyes regarding her curiously - her black pelt, those bright icy cold eyes and the bloody cloak which draped her nape. His muzzle dips, offering a silent greeting.

Ahead of her, tucked away in the midst of the rocks and hidden by dense foliage, was the entrance to the cave. She was as of yet unaware it even existed. Blind to the mysterious world, just out of her reach. A dark ear was cocked to the left, in anticipation of the appearance of her stranger in the night.

The glimmer of his red eyes betrayed him first when he came. Her silver one's locked with them, reminded of her now deceased Warlord. No...no! He had never been her Warlord. Nor would Hela be, or any others that came after. Tzila followed her own path, all too happy to string them along. This single act tonight, of her extended absence, was testament to her defiance. That she could not - would not be chained.

He was a perfect match, as black as the night itself, unbroken by splashes of color like she was. His physique...his features, were peculiar. Long legged and lithe in build. Unusually large, pointed ears. Though capable of friendship, Tzila was anything but harmless. Her tongue swept out to moisten her lips in a flash of pink, ears then cupping forward. "Good evening. Out doing a little exploring, are we?"

She turns to him then, silvered eyes, like the brightness of the stars above, pierced unto him, locking. She regards him with interest, curious, as he is of her. His heavy chest takes in a deep breath, long legs shifting over the cold forest floor. Her ears perk then, questioningly to match with her words. Yes, He speaks at first, hesitant because he just wanted to 'get it right' when it came to conversation. I've much time to do so. He added, a hint that he wasnt just exploring for the night but that he was unlimited, yet without a pack, a home. He could only think that perhaps she had? 

Watching her dark beauty curiously, his bloodied gaze shifts, his head straining forth. Have we found something? His deep tones spoke in question. Something to explore, other then the forest of foxes itself. Maybe this was there den? Of course, Hemlocke didnt know the vast cavern system which lie within.

"Ah. As do I." She replied, opting to leave out the details of why she was away from the Nightwalkers. As she came forward, slowly to inch closer to the object of her curiosity, the faded scent of others on her fur would give away her status. As she whisked by, she too, also noted that it was only his own scent he carried. Briefly she thought about recruiting him, but held back. She was discontent enough as it is. Why subject another soul to the petty rule of a child?

"I think we have. Something is here." Parted jaws opened, polished teeth clasping around several ropes of toughened vine. They were no match for the force of her bite, which snapped them like splinters. A dexterous black paw raised to move aside the rest of the tangled curtains. With the view no longer quite so obscured, the narrow crack of an opening in the rock revealed itself.

She comes nearer, her curiosity tugging at her. At this point Hemlocke is still, long legs stiffened to their placement as his eyes are ever watchful to her as she moves. A larger woman, there was a good chance she was heavier then he given the fact that he was made of mostly long limbs, large ears and an oddly and extreme curvature for any normal wolf. At this time given, he was even slighter then usual, his heavily barreled torso taunt and should lighting cast upon it, ribs may be spotted even with the darkness of his coat. He was, of course, a loner and for the very first time in his life. As she neared him it could be certain for her that she was not. However, perhaps unhappy, given the fact that she spoke of much time for exploring. That, or she was a scout or huntress. 

As she begins biting and pulling away at the vines, he waits until she is pawing at them. He too lifts a large paw, digging away at the brush and tumbles in their path. A narrow crack, through as he peers within he could not see the ending, having assumed it to be a small area one like a badger or coyote could use as a denning. To be side by side, surely the pair would be quite close to one another so he spares the woman a glance, wondering if she wanted to take head position.

Further conversation could wait later until they had squeezed past this entrance. Once the work of clearing the vines, leaves and brush that blocked it, thanks to their combined efforts, Tzila eyed it carefully. It would be a tight squeeze, she knew. More so for her, with her large frame. Luckily she wasn't bulky like many males she knew, and the one beside her would have a far easier time fitting inside. She shared his glance and nodded to him. He could go ahead first, warn her of the spaciousness within and whether or not she should even bother trying to follow suit.

Hemlocke took note of the woman's gesture and allowed himself to push forward first. Their scouting exploration together was comforting. Locke, well, he really hated to be alone. All his life he had nearly been clung to his mother's side and without her... well, it was difficult to be so lonely and crave comfort and yet far too awkward and fearful to gain it. 

Silence fell between them but he needed not words to enjoybrhe comfort of someone's presence. He moved forward slowly through each winding tunnel, the darkness suffocating to some perhaps but weighed down on Hemlocke like a warm weighted blanket. Easy here... He whispers, stirring the silence. He might have been taller then she but she was larger. Where he was taunt angles she was curvy. This part here sloped downwards and was a tighter fit, not for he and yet would for her. 

He slowed only to allow her the time to wriggle through the space. Hemlocke stood before a crossroads, trying to decide his next move. Devilishly large ears perked. Was the trickling water? He turned right down that tunnel and some time before them they were met with the open chamber of a bright spring. Still waters, clear even to the bottom and even seemed to glow here, lighting the room even without light...