Deepwood Weald and between offering and banquet

sky grey with thick ominous clouds that block the sunlight carry with it the soft rumble of distant thunder when he is judged in the court of the sea and found unworthy by the seagoddess of lore; flung from the angry waves frothing with seafoam like the piece of driftwood he was draped unelegantly over.

that was hours ago.

when he wakes his pelage is caked in sand and he coughs up torrents of saltwater —

throat raw and burning and tongue coppery with the taste of salt; head cottony and path clumsy and wobbly like a sailor that has yet to get his landlegs.

his muscles are weak and scream with exertion but survival make her demands of him; pushing and pressing. he drinks from a puddle; his thirst is endless ...until he vomits it back up into a watery puddle at his paws. he licks his jowls and tries again; slower this time.

where there should be familiarity in the unfortunate event; the rasping breaths of throat raw from unforgiving seawater only feels unwelcome as does the ache in his belly from saltwater and lack of food for a few days. there is only survival whispering in his ear; guiding him with patient nudges that while have his best interest at heart are commanding.

[size=small]

Saw this one and couldn't resist sending Keyni on over. <3

[/size]

After hanging around the Honeyed Pasture for a short period of time, Keyni moved on again. She circled back to the south, in the direction of home. Moonglow. She had been away long enough, she decided. A part of her felt guilty for having been gone this long, although she did take care to notify Kukutux of her brief departure. A female of her word, she was certain that it went unsaid between her and her leader that she would never just up and leave. Trust needed to be earned in the eyes of her new pack mates, and by keeping communications open, was a good start.

The route she took led her through a forest she had not visited before. It was a maze of spindly trees, their upper branches and leaves obscuring most of the sky. Added to that was the gentle layer of mist that seemed to cling to the air. Alert jade eyes squinted. She was indecisive. On one hand, this woodland could be seen as very calming. Peaceful and relaxing. And on the other, eerie and unsettling. Haunting, almost. She hadn't decided how she felt about it yet. If you asked her, she would have told you it all depended on the kind of wolf you are. 

Ahead through the mist, there is movement. Sounds of shuffling. Coughing. A struggle? Her brows knitted. She was still too far away, obscured by the annoying layer of fog to see them. Airing on the side of caution but opting not to leave the soul to ail any further, the half Tundrian relied on her other senses. She padded on soft paws, calling out gingerly in hopes of not inciting any alarm.

thank you for joining! <3

it takes him longer than it should — mind cottony and unfocused — to realize a light mist had started. he doesn't even feel it, fur already clumped and damped, looking as unattractive as a cat that just got a bath. he stumbles and pauses, pressing his shoulder against a tree trunk for support. there is a small swell of relief to be found in the small rest; jade eyes closing against the strange mist-laden world as survival and the desperate need for rest go to war within him.

he is miserable and only want to sink down in the soft, damp moss and sleep.

his body slides down, bark of the tree ruffling the fur, snagging damp tendrils as he convinces himself that he'll just rest for a few moments, just a few —

a noise penetrates the sirensong of sleep; somehow breaking through the cottony buzz of his head despite that it was ginger; soft as the brush of a feather. he takes a deep breath, slightly pained as it, damp and cool, settles into his lungs. he does not have the strength to return it but does not doubt that he is hard to miss.

She heard no response, yet she knew something or someone was out there. And something would not let her leave this little mystery unsolved. Painted ears pricking, sitting high atop her crown, she strained to listen for any further sounds of movement. Slowly, she carefully weaved onwards. Mindful of her placement of each pale paw. Leafy jade eyes tried to pry through the obscuring shadows, to make out the details of what she knew to be real.

Sight and hearing would only go so far. In the end, Keyni wound up relying more heavily on her sense of smell, in this particular case. The tinge of saltwater and sand were her guide, striking her nostrils heavily. It was a peculiar smell that she had not encountered before. A sharp contrast to the fresh scent of spruce, stone and soil. She didn't care for it, she decided immediately. 

Drawn closer, she seemed to materialize out of the mist, the paleness of her base coat having hidden her thus far. Only now, here, could she lay eyes on the form of a slumped wolven figure in a heap at the base of a tree. Water logged, tussled and bruised, he was in a sorry state. Knowing nothing of him, she dared not move in too close. But she did lower her head harmlessly, offering a low whine. She was curious of his plight, but more pressing was his obvious need to recoup. These woods and the moss, known for thriving on moisture, weren't exactly convenient.