She weaved her way through the thick trees, noting the pale moonlight that washed the foliage to a light silver. Her tongue slithered past her lips, uncertain as to why she was so drawn out here in the middle of the night. The scent of a certain silver pack mate was strong in her senses, and Kisla felt her curiosity stir her forward, despite the knowledge that she should have turned back towards home where she was needed.


But what about what she needed?


The image of Valkyrja burned brightly in her mind since that day. Marsh had become more than friend; he had become a valiant guardian to her. Naivety was something she was sure she held, and from that day on the pale tawny she-wolf had been well aware of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.. perhaps too much so, for she had become jumpy.. untrusting.


So she lurked the borders of Swift River. Every few days, she would trail outside of them, avoiding the questioning gazes from her pack mates and family, and seeking the solitude she felt might heal her wounds. Of course, it didn’t. The silence only allowed her mind to replay those moments of her life; Valkyrja’s flashing smile.. the burning pain that swarmed her throat as she had drifted to the bottom of Swift River during the flood. Kisla Tainn had branded herself a fool, and there was little she could do to shake the title now.


Edging closer, she could see him now. The plague of curiosity rooted her to the spot now, her pale tail casting a small flick in the cool night air. Swift River was made up mostly of her family; a band of Tainn’s that looked to Corinna and Indru as their guides. Ice was different. He was not of their blood, but he was of their family. And something about the musky smell of the male finally drew her forward from the shadows.


The whisper on the wind stirred her hackles, and she elicited a whine as she approached the Guardian. Thoroughly spooked by the sounds of the forest but unwilling to seem like a child, the lissome girl allowed the façade of bravery to smooth across her impish features, her green eyes seeking that of Ice’s pale gaze. “You’re out late in the forest,” she murmured, trailing up to him before bumping her nose along his cheek in the greeting a pack mate would deliver. Little did she expect electricity to course through her at the contact, and inhaling, Kisla pulled back to regard the male silently.

Had the girl known Ice’s thoughts of cannibalism, she might have turned tail then, afraid of a wolf who’s thoughts could turn so dark and macabre.. especially after her. There was not a moment of the day when the pallid she-wolf did not flash into the young Tainn’s mind, threatening to kill her, the hot throb of her claws and teeth against her throat, stealing her innocence in a way that delved far deeper than any sexual event or innuendo. Kisla Tainn had been tainted, and she spent her days roaming the borders of the River, unworthy of her family and pack. Marsh was her savior.


Kisla ignored his conversational inquiry; she wasn’t sure why she was so far from home, nor did she wish to dwell on it. Instead, she was far more focused upon the thrum of her heart as Ice reached out to touch her.. the lightest graze to the top of her muzzle. It was an ache she felt – unfamiliar in every sense, and yet it felt entirely natural.


Licking her lips softly, the tawny girl leaned closer to the warmth of the silver male, her tongue seeking to groom the pelt of his shoulder and back of his nape. She had never spent the night with a wolf outside of her family, and suddenly she felt nervous. Would ice reprimand her of her actions? Did he suspect the way his presence made her pulse quicken? Was he more interested in the older and more fitting she-wolves of their pack, such as Cali or Jessie?


Despite her doubts, the young she-wolf continued her administrations, grooming him the way one would to another of their pack. It was only until the unsettled wind raked along her spine and cackled within her ears did Kisla inhale sharply, her slender body shifting and pushing closer to the male at her side. “Ice.” Her voice trembled slightly, any bravado she had elicited on her entrance to the forest completely vanished. “Ice, what was that?”

The sudden movement from Ice as she had neared him stung – just as it would any adolescent girl. Kisla cowered back as if struck, the shock of his knee-jerk reaction fluttering a small bout of panic as she briefly recalled the attack. Her eyes widened as she looked to him, fighting the desire to flee then and there. Ice’s stammered words did little to soothe her, and she kept her position for a few moments, feeling the thundering of her heartbeat in her chest, this time.. not from the butterflies of what could be a puppy love. Only until the silver male touched his muzzle to her ear did she relax slightly, her green eyes looking anywhere but at him in submission and embarrassment.


Only when the howling wind sweep past them once more did the haunting echo stir the young she-wolf to press against her companion. Ice was uncertain, and Kisla withheld a whimper, though just barely. At the male’s suggestion to explore and figure out the sound, a light frown marred her features as she pushed lightly away from him, her gaze finally seeking his out. “No,” she stated flatly, her tail flicking nervously. “Nothing good ever happens when you go looking for trouble.” There was a waver in her gentle voice then, the uncertainty she felt and the knowledge that he would hear her fear emanate from her vocals. What good could happen if they sought out the horrible noise? Like any horror story, they would be the ridiculous protagonists’ that sought out the antagonist.. and got their asses handed right back to them.


Any previous emotiosn of mesmerization had quickly fled; now, the pale tawny girl's paws kneaded at the ground with antsy movement, her eyes flickering from Ice and to the direction of the noise.. and then swiftly in the direction of home.

The silver male allowed a sigh to escape his lips, and for a momentary pause Kisla felt the struggle of pleasing her packmate and friend versus sticking up for what she believed; she knew she was exasperating him, and the young and immature part of the she-wolf wanted to bristle and snarl at him, to call him stupid for not taking her seriously. That she had seen darkness, and there was certainly no need to search for it.. it always found a way to come to you. And yet she could not speak.. her mouth felt dry. Instead, a low whine emitted from the Yearling’s muzzle, and she turned her muzzle from him, her eyes desperately seeking the way to home. Even as his words swallowed her, the girl would give a shudder. As right as they were, she did not feel the desire to change; did not see the purpose. Fear was natural, and it plagued for a reason. Because there was something out there to be fearful of.


She could hear him move to her, and finally the pale tawny girl’s muzzle swung to his direction, her eyes seeking the pale irises of his. A sardonic snort escaped her muzzle then, and her cinnamon ears flattened to her skull then as her eyes narrowed at her pack mate. “If it’s just the wind, there’s no need to go investigate,” she challenged, her muzzle canting to the side now as her tail gave a sweep through the air.


No sooner were the words bitten past her jaws did the girl flinch at her tone. So angry with the world. At the unfairness of it all. But not Ice. She was not angry with him. “Ice,” she murmured, taking a plaintive step forward.. toward him as her voice turned apologetic. She dared not touch him, dared not tilt her nose up and bury it to the soft of his neck. She could not bear to watch him flinch from her touch again.

She accepted his comforting gesture readily, her muzzle tilting up to nip fondly at his cheek before her green eyes found his silver – watching as he stepped past her now. As fear thudded in her heart and chest, she still felt a trickle of satisfaction at being in his presence. Her gaze drifted from his features to note the silver off his pelt and the fade of it to a stark ivory as it came to his belly. He was a handsome specimen – something she hadn’t noticed until now.. but then again, Kisla had never put much thought in to the opposing gender.


Shifting her paws to favor her left side, the pale tawny girl rolled her shoulders back, still nervous at the situation she stood in. As much as she felt Swift River was drowning her, like it literally almost had, the she-wolf felt a strong desire for her paws to be walking on the familiar terrain at this very moment. Ice seemed adamant about his new purpose to chase away her fears, and her gaze lifted once more to his own.


Her ears flickered forward as he spoke, and in turn, Kisla gave a light shrug of her shoulders. “Yes,” she murmured, unsure of how this was truly relevant. The whistling of the wind was not always that – sometimes it masked the dangers that hid underneath. Sometimes the rustling of leaves or foliage wasn’t just the wind – sometimes, it held hid a dangerous predator, waiting for an opportune moment to grasp one of them. Sometimes, a smiling she-wolf was not as kind as she let on to be – her true intent was to main you right on your pack borders.. And sometimes, the place you called home was not the safe haven you envisioned it to be, and the river would on wide and attempt to swallow you whole.


Her bright eyes still challenged him on this, but she did not place forth the argument that when she had heard these noises, she had been in a familiar terrain. Instead, Kisla Tainn practiced patience, something she lacked at many times, as she waited for him to continue his thoughts.