Shadowwyn Moor half awake, i wander through this house

Dreary weather was oftentimes the perfect component for her schemes. Among the Monkshood, she’d had a penchant for it. Even before, back when she was named for running, rain was her favorite weather.

But slogging through a moor with her body drenched to the bone wasn’t on her schedule. Even then, Nephele couldn’t find it within her soul to care beyond a substandard huff at the sky when it opened up and cast her into a world of squinting through the rain for shelter, before deciding it wasn’t worth it and trotting a little bit faster through the moor. Sure, she was flecked with mud from her shins down, and she was fairly certain she hadn’t gotten leaves out of her fur from the last time she passed through a wooded area, and if she turned her head just so she could see a small stick tangled in her grey pelt, but this was fine. Everything was fine. Sure, her world was on fire, but if she closed her eyes she couldn’t see it and if she couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. That’s how it worked.

She tipped her head back after a bit, feeling a short breeze ruffle her fur and unsettle her stick buddy. Her only consistent travel companion, good ol boy. But Nephele allowed her eyes to to skyward, asking a silent question to the clouds. Their answer came in swift retribution of one raindrop smacking her in the eye, and the other going right into her nostril. Nephele gave a short hurk, snapping her head back down to her chest, blinking rapidly.

Ow ow oh shit ow- She wiped her leg down her face, one eye kept closed as she rapidly tried to sneeze out the raindrop.

Ashlar was guilty in his unhappiness, as he felt it was entirely ungrateful. It was his own fault in a way too; he saw no path he could follow in this pack he served that would make his presence worthwhile to them. It was a problem that ate at him, one that he mulled on as he ghosted through the territory.

Frequently he took trips out to gain some space, as the boy found he was lighter when he did not think on the ways he had failed. When he was alone he could sing, forgetting the future and recent events. This was what he did today, and his quiet voice was carried on the light summer breeze of the rainy day.

I wish that I could have wings like the birds,
Soar high above like a feather, carefree
Up there, there's no need for explanation or words,
Just the wind and the sun, you and me...

He hummed the next few bars, looking up with a smile at the birds that now flitted between the branches above his head. One, a small red-breasted songbird, seemed to like the song. At least, he chose to take its trilling accompaniment as a compliment. He laughed, dipping his head, and continued on. Oblivious to the company nearby as he shook damp from his fur.

The soft song brought her out of her rolling thoughts, dragging her forcefully back into the present.

Nephele sneezed out the water finally, listening, always listening, as the song drifted across the grasses. Holding her tongue, holding her breath, holding her stance as she lowered it to hide among the grasses. Her gaze went to the sky again, droplets catching on her lashes as she prayed to every god who’d listen to her to not let this be Pidáo. To not let this be someone from the Monkshood. Prayer to fall upon the deafened ears of the creators, no answer to come from their sewn together lips. Nephele pursed her own, closing her eyes, before opening them again, trying to use the brief darkness to focus her gaze like a camera lense. Eyes didn’t work like that, she chided herself after a moment. After a moment, she took a breath. It wasn’t lost on her that she needed allies, to avoid an inevitable conclusion that she would die somehow if Pidáo figured her out. She pressed a breath out from her lungs.

Hello? It was a start, a recognization of a need. She was a brilliant actor when the situation arose, and here was her curtain call.

H..hi. Ashlar managed, stopping and staring at the other wolf before shyly averting his gaze and taking a small step back. He did not know why he suddenly was overly aware, as though he'd intruded somehow... and the shame brought a slight bend to his legs.

S...sorry. I'm just... I'm Ashlar. He added quietly, not looking at her. She'd heard his song. He was proud of such things, but when a stranger heard him, he never knew how the melody would look. Some had mocked the practice and he winced with the expectation she might be one of them, though that flicker of fire newly found within his belly told him not to care. That what she felt did not matter.

This was new and it did not set well. Disconcerting.