Otatso Wetlands bottom of the river (p - marek)
<i>and sweetly she did sing</i>
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#1
weep not for roads untraveled

The cool dark lent no comfort to Alo as she wandered the wetlands. Otatso had a reputation for being a haunted land, the idea of lost souls trapped within the strangely lovely territory was troubling to the Alpha. But she knew no way to free spirits so her visits to the territory were often tinged with a touch of sadness. But the wetlands held herbs like no where else in the Rising Sun Valley, and so she made the trek as the sun set.

A strange vision — inky black with flashing green eyes danced in the distance and a faint chill ran up and down the silver lady's spine. She would not seek it out and instead her mind whispered a soft prayer of protection to Kamali, the one true god. A rush of brackish water, salty and warm hit her abruptly as she sidestepped, spooked by the strange apparition. Sinking into the waters of Otatso was not uncommon, but the waters were never pleasant. Swiftly she moved, front paws clutching at a patch of land as she pulled herself up, fur plastered to her body as she snorted out a blast of salty water. "You test me, Otatso." The female muttered darkly beneath her breath, eyes narrowed to unlovely slits as she looked around.

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Życie wykupienia
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Was this punishment? North had provided him with a cooler climate in his youth, and now this place that he had traveled to was a sweltering swamp of suffering. He was not daft enough to believe that he was being punished but it certainly felt like it on a day like today. Otatso was a wetland and thus, humidity came with the heat and the ground threatened to swallow him with every step sojourned. He was humored that his eyes mimicked the landscape before him, green and brown and rather hostile to the untrained, unfamiliar.

Hours earlier and Marek would have stood out like a sore thumb. Hours past and now his thick coat of white fur was marred by dirt, mud, and decaying plant materials. He knew he was not a pretty sight to be seen, but sought to be seen by the stranger sighted just a moment ago. Was he camouflaged? Marek couldn't say, simply because there was no reflection in the brackish swamp waters, but he imagined he looked like quite the dashing fella.

Hey. You're all right. He remarked aloud, trying not to startle her (which he assumed which might result in him making an ass of himself, but at least, not of her, eliminating the you and keeping the me). He stated the obvious, since she was breathing and appeared to be in one piece.
<i>and sweetly she did sing</i>
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A decidedly masculine voice brome her from her solitude, and she briefly wondered if the speaker was the black creature she had seen. The male she spotted was as pale as the snow (she guessed anyway, most of him had lovely shades of swampwater) and the mystery of the black shadow quickly left her mind. Alo was keen to make friends at all times, and her silver-white jaws parted in an easy grin, swampy brackish water dripping from her wet chin. "And glad for it, I don't think falling deep in these waters would end well. You look like you've gotten into a fight with the swamp....new to these parts?" She had fairly managed to avoid getting too filthy but he looked as if he'd taken it upon himself to wear the Otatso Wetlands.


The male seemed strong beneath all the filth, sizable and well built. He weighed more than she did, and possessed lovely earthy eyes - a few shades darker than her own bright apple green. She shook her head lightly after she spoke, sending water droplets flying from her ears and chin, tail wagging lightly in the stagnant air of the wetlands.

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He was in fact the new kid on the block to put it lightly. Eventually he'd have the place as familiar as the back of his... thought process paused for a glance down: dirty paw. It still looked relatively familiar, anyway. Swamp 1, Marek 0. He said with a grin. Although he didn't feel like he'd actually lost, he didn't want his good humor to go to waste. Still getting my bearings, my full name is Marek Serafin. He introduced a little more properly this time, taking a few steps closer and dipping his head respectfully.

Truth be told, Marek lived to experience life. If that meant covering himself in swamp, sand, snow, so be it. He hoped to eventually redeem himself for the lessons he had been taught and eventually rejected. There was something sacred about savoring every sense that life had to deliver.

I'm not imposing on any pack grounds, am I? He questioned. Marek wouldn't have thought a pack would claim wetlands quite like this, but it would have been easy to miss a marker and he wouldn't want to be a total jackass by not showing more than a neutral, I'm not going to kill you, display of respect.