The Wildwood A Wanderer- Revisited

Simaea trod through the charred remains of the forest tired, and hungry, her form had shrank and even still with no one around she did her very best to look tiny. She was terrified of everything here, It looked so dead and cold. "What happened here?" her voice rattled through the trees. It was the very same path another wolf had trodden moons ago yet still she did not know that he had stood upon the very same patch of earth she took up at this very moment. His scent had long since been scattered to the winds and she would catch no trace of it, and now that he was in a pack and unawares of her survival it would be harder to distinguish their mothers faint trace. There was no hope of finding him here, but the farther she trod the more her eyes began to play tricks on her. Simaea thought she kept catching glimpses of a dark patch of fur, a set of oddly colored eyes, and once or twice she thought she actually saw the yearling, dwelling in Secret Woodlands. But no, it was merely exhaustion eating at her bones and mind.

The scarred black she wolf began to whine, she lay beneath a black tree and rested her head upon a charred root. Her eyes closed for a few moments and the young girl inhaled. No trace, of course you idiot! she told herself. I'll never find him. For all intents and purposes he could have been dead already and she would never know, but something told her to search, an inner voice almost called to her and would reassure her that he was alive. The echoes began, she knew deep down that it was in her head and that the charred forest was silent. But still the echoes of her memory rang in her ears, the small voice, "Momma? Poppa? Simaea, Cane no! Get up! just get up! Please!" He had fled, too young to check for life, he hadn't known that Simaea lay there, terrified and bleeding, waiting for death before she realized she could breathe but not speak without a great rasp and pain. She had wanted so much to call for him but she couldn't remember his name. Just the unbridled sadness in his voice. Simaea began to whine much more at the thoughts that swirled in her head, if only she could remember it would all be okay. But it wasn't, it never was, not since then.

Cisco felt nearly useless lurking outside of the borders, just waiting for news of Koda. He knew that he lived and was physically getting better, but as far as he was aware, he still had no memory of his last year of life. This saddened the old wolf to no end, but he was now suffering from the pure frustration of wanting to help, but he was little or no use at all. This was the reason that he'd taken to wandering further and further from the borders. Today, he'd left early, before the sun had risen and headed north. There was no rhyme or reason as to why, except perhaps that he had not done so yet. The distance fell behind him and he felt better than he had in a while. His old hips had warmed up quickly and they gave him little trouble as he moved. He was no healer, but he had realized that the more he moved in general, the less his joints bothered him so he made a point of keeping active.

He stopped a couple of times to drink from small streams and realized that they seemed to be flowing a bit faster. As cold as it was, perhaps winter was losing it's grip on the lands. He hoped so. The lanky wolf loved springtime with it's new life and new growth coloring the land, eradicating the endless blanket of pristine snow. He came to another woodlands and decided to explore a bit deeper. He didn't scent any packs, so he shouldn't cross anyone. The last thing that he wanted to do was bother anyone, so he walked in silence, chocolate eyes scanning as ever for a possible meal.

For the moment, his sensed detected nothing to eat, but a barely audible whimpering sound came to him. His brows furrowed in immediate concern and he turned in the direction that he was sure that it came from. It led him to a lovely young yearling, her black fur a stark contrast to the snow covered ground. Stopping a few yards away, he asked gently, "Are you all right, Miss?" His voice was soft with concern for the unknown fae.

Simaea jumped at the sound of a voice and looked up to see a male much larger than she standing a short way off. She stood slowly keeping her tail tucked between her legs and her head low. Her tail was stuck to her underbelly in submission but her head was ducked low to cover the scar that marred it. The yearling was very afraid that any wolf who would see it might think it weakness and attack her. She was shaking slightly, he sounded concerned but what if that changed, what would she do then? Instead she shook her head and kept her jaws shut. She was reluctant to speak at first until she had evaluated him further for she was afraid her voice might set off an attack. No that couldn't happen, he was too nice. At the same time maybe that was how these rouges worked... she couldn't tell, she knew so little of how to tell who meant harm and who didn't. Maybe she should just ran away.

Instead she tentatively approached the male, until she was a good two tails away from him and sniffed, he was an elder, and he was alone. Those were both good things, the girl began to feel safer at once her senses telling her that he was no threat and that there was no one following him. His voice had been gentle and the fae drew breath to speak, it was low and quiet. "I'm l-lost, and I'm looking for s-someone, my brother, he has strange eyes they are... imperfect, blue and one has some green in it, black... l-like me." Fear of unknown caused her to stutter the words and she was sure he could scent that fear on her. The dark she wolf began to glance around, still looking for any escape route if need be, she was not the largest wolf but she was fast and agile. "I don't know his name, but could you t-tell me if there are any packs n-nearby I can ask?" It was the best she had, her quiet words would still reach his ears and so would the roughness her voice held.