Larkcall Lowlands waltz for the alone

Summer thunderstorm!

The open tundra stretched out before Oula like a hopeless task. Her paws burned with the ache of travel, muscles screamed for rest, throat begged for water, but still the grey female continued at her unwavering pace. There was so much ground to cover with only the faintest whisper of scent, or a worn track, or a tuft of fur serving as an all but useless compass.

A herd of caribou filed between the distant rocky hills, a trying temptation that Oula doggedly ignored. For her prey was of a much different sort; a murderous outlaw who Oula had volunteered for the task of bringing to justice. If she succeeded, it would be a point of pride for her. Her coming of age as a guardian within the pack would be secured once she'd returned victorious. As days gave way to weeks, and weeks to months, she considered her persistence would demonstrate how clearly dedicated she was. She thought of how any other wolf would likely have given up by now. Oula pointedly turned a blind eye towards the sickly core of revenge that rotted away inside her.

As Oula climbed up a mossy slope leading to the top of a ridge, she surveyed the lowlands she had yet to cross. Due south a glacier-topped mountain loomed above all, with a dark green smudge of forest curled around its base. Her pale green eyes narrowed, mouth setting in a firm line. That had to be where her wolf was headed.

She was about to continue when something else caught her eye from her vantage point. A massive bank of white clouds towered to the west, their dark base casting a shadow onto the earth below and their fluffy white tops reaching upwards and flattening against the heavens. Oula had been watching them all day, noting the still, warm air and figuring she had ample time to move out of the way. The storm was worryingly close now, and rather than stand staring dumbstruck at it Oula started off again, this time with a bit more urgency in her step.

She hadn't gotten as far as she had hoped when she heard the first rumbles of thunder. A steady wind had whipped up, seemingly trying to nudge the lone wolf right into the heart of the approaching storm. The forest was still far off, and only occasionally would she pass a lone pine or two that looked misplaced in a sea of heath and lichen. Not only would getting caught in a storm seriously delay her, but could wash away what little evidence remained of her quarry. The rain announced itself first with a few hesitant drops. Steadily it grew as the sky overhead darkened, to a tapping, then a drumming as Oula launched herself forwards on sturdy limbs as if she could still outrun it all.

"Damn it," She hissed through clenched teeth as the sky above exploded in light and sound.

(This post was last modified: Jun 20, 2015, 07:51 PM by Oula.)