Emberwood again I will say: Rejoice!
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Colin prays in the dawn-- the Father, the Son, the holy ghost-- as the rest of the world slowly wakes up around him. He prays, I'm sorry, Ruth. Please forgive me, Theo. The words bleed out of his tired head into oblivion. Soon enough he's repeating those two sentences over and over again like rats chasing their own tails. Soon enough Ruth and Theo are not names, but just samples of pure phonemes. There's no rosary to follow.

When he gets up, he finds that his knees ache more than they usually do. It must be raining soon. The promise of it hangs heavy in the air. Overcast and suffocating, like seeing the underside of a blanket large enough to envelop the Earth.

Kneeling for too long has leeched the warmth from him. He sits in the forest, hugging himself until the feeling comes back to his feet. He is sure he hears a deer nearby, but he hasn't been hungry for weeks.
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Ugh, his leg was hurting. The joint on the bad appendage was aching, signifying a change in the weather, and Evien hated it. Usually it wasn't bad, but lately he'd been going out more often and exploring the area again, so perhaps he'd overworked it. That made sense, he supposed, especially with having to go out and gather more herbs with Rosina's injury. 

The medic had no idea what possessed him to venture into the Emberwood today, but there he was, under a blanket of clouds and a canopy of green leaves. And it seemed he wasn't alone in his ventures - there was a scent in the air of a lone wolf. Or, at least, Evien believed he was alone. But then again, even if he wasn't, what was the worst that could happen? Being attacked? Killed? It would be nothing that Ursus didn't do to other wolves. Images of Merrick standing over his victim burned into his skull.

The thought caused a lance of pain to jab through Evien's chest. He chased it away quickly. 

"I'm not the only one who thought today was a good day for a walk, it seems," he greeted the stranger, gesturing to the ominous sky. It didn't make sense, being out here like this, but perhaps that was just the way things went sometimes.
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The sound of footsteps catches his ear, and Colin turns around to see a young man. For a few moments, his face remained unchanged: furrowed brows, lips pulled in a frown, but he manages a benign smile before saying, "I'm used to the rain." 

It was true. The weather back at home were overwhelmingly made up of days that rained, and days that didn't were so rare they might as well have not been there at all. He'd never really seen a clear blue sky. 

"What brings you here?" He asks. He's still trying to extricate his mind from the rat race of apologies that runs in the back of his head, but for now, Colin's demeanor is seamless, if not a little preoccupied. He brushes dust off his cloak.
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The man would be handsome, if he weren't so... haggard. Upon closer inspection, Evien began to get concerned. He was a healer, after all, and this wolf clearly was not in the best of health. Thin, ragged, scarred. There was just something not right here, but not in a way that made Evien fear. Rather, he was concerned. 

"I don't mind the water, either," he responded, recalling his youth by the river. Muddy and soaking wet, most of the time. It was fun, when his mother hadn't freaked out about it. Get out of that water, Evie dear! You'll catch your death! "But I'd prefer some sunshine."

What brought him here? "Escaping, for a bit," he responded, surveying the man once more. "You look about as tired as I feel." The comment was breezy, lighthearted, but gauging how well the man was feeling. Perhaps he could help.
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His smile grows wider at the mention of sunshine, before it wans again, as if saying, yeah, me too. God had made light on the first day of creation. For twenty four hours, all there had been was a clear blue brightness. It's almost comforting to think about.

"From what?" he asks half-heartedly, before chuckling at the stranger's appraisal of him. "This is how I usually look," he jokes, though he self-consciously rubs his cheek, wishing for a mirror. He'd never looked radiant or completely healthy even when he was living through his best days. Ruth liked that about him-- made him look older, more serious, she said. He touches his temple where the hair had already started to gray.

"I think once you reach a certain age, everyone starts to look tired." He wasn't that old-- still in the prime of his life, but Colin had never cared too much about appearance. A reverend only had to look put-together and sane. It wasn't difficult to pull off.