Her heart sank. Damn; she had some conviction this girl may have sheltered Llyra’s disease, but the answer shattered the assumption.

Never before had she encountered a wolf who enjoyed to circle and count and be as particular about their food coloration as she had. Why was this? Certainly Llyra was of the same species as them; she confirmed this by turning her head and glazing across her pelt, comparing her body contours (though malnourished) to be equal to Pakuna’s. So why was Llyra so peculiar?

Llyra sadly let her head shake to and fro. “No, no… its not just walking in circles… its more… complicated.” She wasn’t certain how to phrase the burning, intense desires that overtook her when she became anxious or nervous. How could you explain such a thing?

Her auburn pupils grew slightly in size as the wolf began to exhibit more enraged body language, questioning whether or not she had provoked them. It wasn’t necessarily unusual; many times before, Llyra’s ignorance had placed her into trouble. The absurdity of her questions and the inattentive common sense usually seduced the annoyance out of wolves she met. Was this another case? Her head tilted slightly, unsure of whether or not to press her ears back as well, to prepare to fight and lose desperately against this girl. But luckily, she appeared to come down on her own.

Thank God.

No sooner had her confusion left that it soon returned when the next inquiry passed through the girl’s lips. Her heart began to quicken, desperately unsure of how to properly respond. Did she like to hunt? Hell no; it was far too traumatic and nerve-racking to try and find proper meals. She had learned over the years that most animals were brown, and that didn’t sit well with the almighty Neuroticism. Did she have to hunt? Duh, especially now… hence the reason why she should like it, because it was pretty important to sustaining her life, even if it sustained it to the bare minimum. How could she answer the she-wolf’s question? Quickly, her brain scattered to compile a rational response… nervousness overtook her as the mind attempted to think of an answer. She swallowed hard and began to shift her weight, paw to paw, her pupils beginning to dart to and fro in their sockets. “Hunting doesn’t… like me,” she answered. Yeah. Good answer Llyra. Content, she momentarily halted her shifting of weight, though she felt as though her answer hadn’t been as sufficient as her mind conjured it up to be. “The trees… they don’t like me. And I hate them. So I’m not very… good… because of that. And the animals… they’re so… brown. And white. And pure black.” Her body quivered, shuttering at the thought of a plainly colored animal that wasn’t silver. “So… as you can see, hunting doesn’t like me because of that.” Llyra let her head twist slightly to the left, her eyes darting to the protruding ribs, signifying to Pakuna that this is what she meant. “But as you can also see, I really wish it liked me more.”

Pakuna wondered about Llyra. Yes, she was unique, but was she so in a negative manner? Had she possessed a sort of mental illness? The older woman was not one to judge. All she knew was that the tawny wolf before her was kind, and so she returned the kindness. As Llyra looked to her ribs that poked out from the flesh, she frowned. "Maybe ye should join a pack." She suggested it lightly, not knowing whether or not the wolf was even interested in living with other wolves. "I be in Copper Rock Creek. They be a great family."


The itch started at her paws, and worked its way up through her legs. The woman wished to run, to dodge the trees, to leap over the mangled bracken. She loved the thicket, and would certainly invite Llyra on an escapade, but with the girl being mere bones, it seemed like such a thing would not happen. Pakuna looked to the thicket...the abyss. Her pale eyes blinked before peering back over to the skinny wolf. She reeked of the gray rabbit's blood. How much food would it require for her to return to her normal weight?


Teetering on her creamy paws, Pakuna brought her body backwards, stretching out. Her mouth opened wide, exposing several ivory fangs as she released a yawn. She closed her jaws, looking back to the thicket. Run. Leap. Dodge. The itching. It would not stop. The branches and trees seemed to pull at her, and she could imagine herself being tangled up in it like a fly in a spider's web. Tawny toned coat blended with the thicket floor, melting her into its surroundings.