Blackberry Fields I walk the line

Nightingale moved through the snowy lands without any sense of place. The songbird felt so forlorn and lost. Would she never belong anywhere? She felt so out of place among those she knew at the Caldera; so lost that she could not pretend to belong, that she had to leave them. She knew, of course, she was following dreams. Dreams she could scarcely remember, too, at that.

At this point she was exhausted. She slept uneasily, even despite wanting the dreams. Restless because she did not know what hungry thing might lurk. When she bedded at night, she made sure none were nearby. She did that now, sniffing around. None had passed through this part of the Fields in a few days. It meant that perhaps it was a difficult to reach area that her lither-than-normal figure could slink into. A myriad of branches created something of a den, thorns and twigs alike a blockade to wind. Nightingale moseyed into the area, letting her eyes drift to a close. Just a quick nap. The night sky overhead was open beyond the enclosed area she found, but she felt secure and safe. The delusions of exhaustion could attack the mind, and here lay the victim of its work.

Salix was hungry. He constantly had his nose lifted to the air,
hoping to scent prey or perhaps a carcass. Anything would do right now. The youthful looking man waltzes
casually through the snow, his icy-gray gaze scanning the land as he weaves between downed blackberry shrubs.
A long sigh is emitted from his nostrils; he pauses. Ears perk and his head turns, the thick fur around his head
shielding him from a dastardly cold wind. His lip curls slightly as to show his discontent toward the cold. His travels
hadn't yielded much results yet. Thus he continued.

His fur had already been thickening in preparation to the cruelty of the winter's grasp. He was ready, but he knew
he desperately needed to seek out a pack to ensure survival. Anxious to join a pack, he still had his wits about him.
Salix was not to throw himself head first into a pack that seemed to be barely holding itself up. Then again, he
could use his brains to gain power and rank through it. There were many options to weigh, but hunger didn't
allow him a clear mind.

As he descends a small knoll, his gaze falls upon a figure within the distance. The sky above was a bit cloudy, but
the stars were still admirable through its veil. The male snorts as the figure disappears. He couldn't see all too well,
but judging by its form, it seemed to be another wolf. He'd either regret or be content with what his next actions
were to bring. He plods forward, his eyes peering about as caution controls him. Unsure of as to where the other
wolf had gone, Salix stops in his tracks. Parting his jaws, he releases a gruff bark to alert her of his presence.

Nightingale had been ready to fall into the throes of sleep. In curling into a ball, her warmth pressed into her. There was the absence of something so tangible there that she lifted her head before her snooze to look behind her, expecting to see... what? But the emptiness there caused an ache so deep she could not fathom it. Sleep. Sleep would bring her... anything else. And anything else was better than this. She knew but one thing: she would see the face she had longed for, for as long as she could remember.

And so as sleep begins to work on her, the sound of the others approach is significantly mumbled and muted. It is only when they themselves make a sound that she comes to some semblance of awareness, and even then, reality, to her, is a fickle thing. She blinks her eyes open and tries to do what she can to gather her wits... and as the she-wolf sniffs, Nightingale notes that she is, in fact, not alone. Her paw-prints would betray her on the thin sheet of snow, there was no doubt of that.

So, from within her area, Nightingale only growled lowly. What could she do, honestly? She had limited expendable energy. But the other did not know that... and she counted on this hope.

There is a moment of silence, and the man remains still, his breathing steady.
With his ears straining forth, his mouth twitches at the sounding of a low growl. Well, it was better he
had discovered the wolf before it discovered him. With a ginger step forward, he pinpointed where
the wolf resided. She was blocked away by the entwinement of brambles and thorns to his right. Not
bothering to get any closer, he speaks rather than making another sound. "Not gon' hurt ye"
He says simply, his eyes falling the prints in the snow. He could have followed the prints toward her instead
of listening for her as he had a moment ago. Ah, well. Xil liked to use his other senses aside from sight. It
kept him well-rounded as a hunter.

"Ye gon' come out, hmm?" His deep voice was rather quiet as he spoke out to her. He didn't want to
sound aggressive; that would only make the wolf agitated more. Instead, his tone was rather stoic. He was
interested in seeing another wolf. After standing for a few more moments, his harsh gaze tears away from the
bramble. He couldn't make out her figure within it; her tawny pelt did well to camouflage her. The salt and pepper
backed male turns away now, his stomach knotting as he does so. Hunger was striking again.

Perhaps he could use this other wolf to find food with him... hunt something. He needed a lot of fuel to continue
his travels, and measly rabbits wouldn't do, especially with the winter approaching. The thin layer of snow below
them was only a warning.

(This post was last modified: Nov 24, 2015, 06:21 PM by Salix.)

Nightingale could only speculate at the character of the outsider. Why would he follow her? Why would he summon her from her carefully selected nap-zone? She kept in its protective, thorny confines, knowing the other would meet the teeth of the brambles before she ever needed to set hers upon him if he decided it wise to invade. Her own fur was covered in burrs, but given they were on the outer perimeter she was none too bothered by them... yet.

Even when he spoke she questioned his ingenuity, helpless to what others had built in her in her time away. The openly trusting wolf was literally forgotten. She was more than a little paranoid, as any lone wolf had the right to be. She bristled, I d'n't believe you, she dumbly remarked, and could only think to bite her tongue after the fact. What if this aggravated him into moving against her? She should've kept quiet. The whole time.

And as for his question? The songbird coiled tighter, narrowing her eyes. No, she responded. A part of her wished to, though. Company wasn't bad, usually. And she preferred it, for the most part... but her tiredness had turned her into a bit of a grouch, and she was wary in her exhaustion of the threat others could pose.

A grumble escapes the man as he remains turned away from the woman.
Her bitterness was observed, but he wouldn't act out of spite. That would be
lowly. Instead, he tosses his head to look back in her direction. "Lis'n. I don'
care if ye really wanna come out 'er not." His body turns, and he shrugs toward
the dome of brambles she was within. "Jus' hungry. Thought I could use a huntin'
partner." He wanted to give it another shot. If she was not to oblige, so be it.

He wouldn't suffer from winter. There were many options for survival, and this is what
he currently desired. He hadn't found a pack yet; food needed to be obtained on his own.
This idea of having a hunting partner could blow back in his face for all he knew.
Salix was aware of the slight risk his attempt was making. This wolf seemed slightly
hostile. He figured she may have been sleeping and he had woken her; he didn't
take into consideration that she was just trying to get to sleep first.

Salix was anticipating another unwelcoming retort. His paws crunch the snow below
as he leans a bit to the left, ready to turn his body and walk off. His patience was
beginning to test him.

Her mind did not so much as bombinate as he spoke. It seemed keen on shutting down. Her eyes crossed tiredly as he spoke and she shook her head quickly to rouse herself. Nightingale was interested in his desire to hunt but wasn't sure if she'd be more of a detriment than anything else right now, given how exhausted she was. He had come at the wrong time. Her muzzle went to rest upon her forelegs. She was trying to keep her eyes open but they, against her will, kept falling to a close.

Tired, she huffed from her cozy place. But also hungry... she left that out; while she sort of did want to get roped into a hunt for the sake of survival, she also wanted to sleep. For the moment it seemed that her exhaustion prevailed; her eyes closed this time and she did not even attempt to open them. The warmth of the tiny nook she had found away from the days cutting winds were enough for her. They in themselves were a lullaby... and it couldn't be ignored. Her pointed ears twitched; she still waited for the others rejoinder.