Dawnlark Plains I drew that glass across his neck, fine as any blade.

He’d never found Orlaith. The snow that marked his departure from the wilds had also masked her own; it was only hours before her trail grew cold.

After a year of trying, Riley gave in. It took another year before he’d found his foothold in his new world — and another six months before he’d returned to his homeland.

There was nothing left. His hopes hadn’t been high, considering most of his childhood had toppled before he’d ever departed the wilds.

He coursed north. Here the landscape was more familiar to him, reminiscent of the wildwoods he’d stalked in the last few months. Savannah grass spread before him, heavy with sun ripened fescue grass.

Riley picked his way across the yellow field, scenting the wind as he went.

she ought not to venture from the Rise. last time she had, a bear had tried to behead her.

but the dynamics at home have changed so much, and so many faces missing. . . Avicus doesn't know what to make of it all, and seeks solitude, save for her children.

those remaining, anyway. (Redd—where have you gone?)

the man is a dark blotch upon green-gold fields, and she moves toward him, quick but silent, though not necessarily intending to conceal her presence. when she's in sight, she lifts her chin in a silent question.

who are you?

this was not her claim—not officially, anyway. but it gives her a slight qualm, always, to find other wolves here, in their hunting grounds;

and especially as summer begins to wind down into fall, and then toward the long winter. . .

Along the fields he went, seemingly alone until he wasn’t.

It was the wind that first betrayed Avicus’ presence. Years of hard solitude lead Riley to be wary, but he slowed his steps all the same until the red speck took on shape, and then familiarity.

His blood ran cold, for a moment — but he realized this was not Indra. Only a form startlingly similar.

His bladed hackles settled to something less defensive; as she came close and her gaze and chin lifted, Riley understood the silent question lodged between them.

He turned his shoulder to her, so she might draw from his fur the story of his travels; the scent of wood pine, of sun, of his last kill two days before (woodchuck), of his unbroken solitude save for now. Of who he was — male, moderately healthy albeit skinny, capable, but alone.

And if she allowed, he would carefully do the same — sift from her pelt the story she carried with her.

When Avicus drifted from the Rise, he silently followed.

He hoped to find her alone for a moment, to talk a bit, maybe just to be in her presence,

 to know her again.

His hopes are dashed by the outline of a dark-clad stranger. Strange to him in the least—he wonders if they may know one another, though it doesn't seem like it.

He approached the pair with a woof and tail lashing; curiosity mixed with muddled impatience.

she's primed to meet the dark wolf before—

Mulherin. she steps in front of him, giving him a gentle boof, placing her body between her son and the stranger. her eyes gentle upon his dark face, before hardening to meet the other countenance.

wha' you wanh' here? she questions, lifting her chin.

the plains are not officially theirs, but she considers them hunting grounds of the pack, and to have another wandering. . .

A second wolf arrives. Riley’s position tensed; he instinctively put space between the duo and himself.

He was now disadvantaged. While Mulherin appeared young, even teenagers had teeth — and Riley was in no position to afford injury. Plus, the red she-wolf seemed possessive of him by the way she pressed herself between the two of them.

He glanced beyond them, mapping a potential escape route. For several seconds, he struggled to manage a reply. Nothing. I was hunting. He put several more paces between them, beginning to pull off in a different direction to avoid conflict.

He is shielded by Avicus. The boy gently sidesteps to join her side; parallel. 

I can hold my own. He seems to say. Though it was ego that did much of the talking.

The stranger did not seem like he wanted to cause a fuss. After disclosing his intentions, he began to go off in his own way.

A frown lines his mouth. 

You're clohhe to the Rihhe. He informs the retreating figure. Then, looks to his mother for her reaction. Would she choose to pursue?

tacking on an ending <3

Riley could put two and two together. His gaze glanced past them, to the ridge that flanked the horizon. He supposed that was the ‘Rise’.

As he turned he heard the yearling speak out. A single ear cupped back in silent acknowledgment, but Riley said nothing else.

In a loose limbed trot he moved off, retracing his steps towards territory that would not be so closely guarded.