Quote:OOC comment: A private thread for me and @Blackmoore . The first plot for Sharan, taking place right after she had come to the lands of Relic Lore.
Sharan did not remember for how long she has been wandering, and to be honest, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to remember. It was months at least, months since she left her stillborn and her deceased mate together, the family she seemed to be forbidden to have by the fate itself. They were free though, free from the ailments of the body and would, free from the cold, unwelcoming world she was bound to still remain part of. She was weak, she was weary and so numb to the point of not feeling hunger and weariness whatsoever. There was only the journey and the steady sound of her steps, the everpresent feeling of soil under her paws and the smell of the forest around her.
There was no mistaking it for anything else: it had to be the very same forest she had glimpsed days ago while walking forward - the green line of lush trees, once so small and miniscule, now was a whole new world around her, filled with dozens of sounds and thousands of smells and fragrances she should be happy to know. Her nose worked hard, but her brain did not work fast enough to record and analyze all the fragrances surrounding her.
Despite all the weariness of the body she felt quite.. Happy? Whole? She didn't feel that way for a long time and it unsettled her a bit. Was she so tired she was already slipping? Is this how she is supposed to feel, or is it how a dying wolf feels when there is no coming back? No, there was no way she was about to surrender. She had to continue, if not for her own sake, then for the family she had. She would live a life for each of her pups and for Malakai as well.
She stopped, feeling the soft moss under her pawpads. The feeling was soothing, for her feet were burning from walking and exhaustion. She forced herself to focus here wind-battered eyesight and take a few keen glances around in order to find a safe place to rest. And there it was, a small space under an almost-uprooted tree filled with moss and plant debris, too modest to be called a den, and yet better than laying in open space and remaining easy to be found by any who would chance to pass by and be a potential threat.
Sharan made a few steps toward the improvised den and examined it, removing all the unwanted pieces of wood, stones and other things, leaving the place filled with no more than leaves, tufts of grass and pillows of thick, soft moss she could rest on and feel comfortable. She paid no attention to the moist rumbling in her stomach or her parched tongue; these would have to wait until she had her sleep and well deserved rest. She wouldn't be able to keep much food down anyway, until the feeling of constant movement left her and let her recuperate. She would need to drink however, and fast, or her strength would leave her altogether.
Now, all was left under the uprooted tree were tufts of plants and moss, pieces of her gray mane visible here and there, and her pale blue eyes, partially closed, but soon to fall asleep. It took her unaware, and soon the air was filled with her soft snores, and the she-wolf was left on the mercy of anyone visiting this land.
(This post was last modified: Sep 17, 2017, 01:32 PM by Sharan.)