Clearwater Tarn Beauty in Destruction

anaeia "pebble" wraith She was a shadow, coming and going with little impact to the surrounding area. The young female had entered the territory claimed by Lorcan and Piety, standing side by side with the companionship of Daesamar. But it appeared that as soon as she had entered, the wolf vanished. Scent trails were present but whenever one would come across them they would appear faint. Always on the move, never lingering in one space too long. That was just the way she was brought up till this point. It was not that she disliked this place, more just indifferent to most things. The brown wolf didn't even sleep or spend any time in the main den, odd as it might be. She seemed to always find a new place to rest for the night, feeling a strong desire to avoid the caves since the time Lorcan had led her there to heal the shoulder wound. And perhaps it would come to bite her in the rear now. Pebble had been resting beneath a tree when the temperatures began to drop, a coolness crossing the territory with thick clouds rolling through the sky. But she was not in a full sleeping state, a single eye opening to peek at the lack of warmth from this morning. It came down hard and fast, a surprise for the young woman which in itself was a strange thing. The rain seemed to shoot straight through the canopy, giving a small sting here and there as it made contact with her body. Lips curled in annoyance at this change, eyes closing as she slowly began to lift herself from the ground. A rumble of thunder shook the sky, bringing a lash of the girl's tail. Ears swept back against the skull, thoughts racing in an attempt to think about where she could possibly go for enough shelter till this passed by. The cave, however, was off limits, which didn't leave too many options."speech" always watching...

(This post was last modified: May 10, 2018, 09:12 PM by Anaeia.)

Posts may be vague to show her silence and lack of body language to communicate with others. She simply stands there and stares, with the smallest of body gestures.

With the due dates of both Lenae and his mother drawing near Cyril kept close to the borders, the dark fur on his spine prickled as he meandered along the borders. He marked frequently to ensure the coyotes knew that they were here and were not threatened by them. He would not allow them to breach the invisible walls and terrorize the future of Clearwater. During his excursions the ebony Kael-Santoro made sure to cover his tracks, to ensure that the vermin did not follow him home, but it did not mean the others were as careful as he was. It was possible that they had discovered where the tarn was carved into the mountain and that they were waiting for their chance to pounce… but he would not allow it.

The sudden onslaught of rain was relentless, causing his permanent grimace to deepen as he stalked through the mountain terrain. Like the mahogany-coloured female, Cyril did not spend time at the pack den. He chose, instead, to sleep nestled against a lone pine tree at the edge of the lake. But with weather like this Cyril knew his tree wouldn’t be ideal—which was why he’d scouted out another cave carved into the stone; a hidden sanctuary within the mountain haven. He was in pursuit of the shelter when he spotted the dark stranger through the downpour; his pace slowed, his dark brows furrowed. Instead of offering her an array of useless words he gave a sharp woof; a invite for her to follow him and escape the undesirable weather.  

(This post was last modified: May 16, 2018, 04:03 AM by Cyril.)