Spectral Woods you push and I'm pulling away

July 11th; Morning, after sunrise; Hazy; 67.91° F, 19.95° C

It had been days since he had seen all that was left of Fools Gold Chasm. The glittering pyrite walls had been welcoming, but the cavern and pool offered no solace. Absent were the scents of his family - or any other wolf he knew. Here and there bits of birdsong rang out; along the cavern walls, a playful pair of foxes had left their marks. Even the scent trails of raccoons and coyotes were days, possibly weeks, old.

When he made the decision to move onward, Anatole kept denying the fact that he was all alone. Papa was supposed to come back. Tante Aubine said he would... Now Anatole was out on a mission.

Through the Red Fern Forest, he skulked, passing the peaceful glen that was Rissa's Rest. Solitude was not what he was after, and the wildflowers could not entice him to stay. Before he knew it, he had ducked into a thick wall of fog. Wisps of blue and white wrapped around his ankles, blanketing his shoulders. The deeper he went, the more it washed out his coat and turned his vision into a hazy blur.

Anatole wouldn't dare call out. One could not be lost if a destination had not been defined...

Small calculated steps brought him through the gnarled trees. Once or twice, he thought he could hear the frantic hoofbeats of frightened deer. He squinted as the morning sun shone a beam down through the boughs. Almost like lightning it came, blinded him, then was lost. When he recovered his vision, he swore he saw a shadowy figure in the mist before him.

Throwing caution to the wind, he let out a small woof.

Magg and @Leo had departed the Cove the previous day for their mission, and the yearling still vibrated with the same energy she'd started the trip with. When she thought maybe the older wolf had gotten tired of her excited chattering, she gave him a wider berth, still following his trail but also allowing herself to wander here and there.

After all, everything was brand new to her brown eyes. Like the way fog blanketed this stretch of forest, or how the greenery was darker, and all the new smells. Like... was that... wolf?

Magg detoured, nose twitching and ears pressed intently forward, but she moved just a touch more carefully now; strangers were unpredictable. Gaze burned through the fog as her paws crept closer, someone else coming into view. Or at least, forming a hazy shape that was just recognizable as her own kind.

It called out, and she froze a moment, crouching low. The child still in her begged for a game. With little thought, she darted for cover, hoping to be a ghost that the unknown other might try to chase.

(This post was last modified: Jul 30, 2023, 11:43 PM by Magg.)

Anatole quivered beneath his full-grown adult coat, but he would not bow. He expected aggression by default. A sign or warning that he had trespassed onto lands that weren't his. His tail held still and one of his ears flicked as the figure crouched down. This had to be real and not a figment of his imagination in the mist. The boy held back the churning growl in his throat.

Then, the unexpected. The shadow fled, blending into the rest of the forest ahead of him.

Those who knew Anatole knew he lacked the average canine's communication skills. His mind often scrambled to choose the appropriate words. Sometimes he was even unsure of whether to use his father's native tongue or the usual wolf-speak. However, he was observant enough to be an expert in reading lupine body language. And, this silhouette seemed to be more playful than afraid.

At first, he dropped into something of a play bow. Watch out... Then, single bark as his tail waved high above him. Here I come!

The youth might have grown into his full adult physique, but like the mysterious figure, he too, was simply a cub. He snapped at the air in jest before darting forward. Nose to the ground, he sniffed, uncertain about what he would find.

there used to be a greying tower
ANATOLE GERAU
alone on the sea

Again the stranger sounded out, indicating his participation in her little game. Magg was positively thrilled, a wide grin spreading across her muzzle as she snuck through brush and under blankets of vines. The fog was exacerbated by the smoke in the air, far off wildfires that would all too soon be dangerously close. For now, the effects were faint enough that the yearling was not recognizing them. To her, this was just part of this forest's magic, and the perfect cover under which to continue her antics.

She failed to get a proper look at him through all of the foliage she hid beneath, but his steps were audible when he would get close, sending her scurrying elsewhere until her luck ran out. Magg could either be caught or break into the open, and she chose the later, escaping the verdant growth in a burst of tawny and girlish giggles.

Her teeth clacked playfully and her forelimbs slapped down against the earth, changing the nature of the challenge. Would he still be up for it?

(This post was last modified: Oct 01, 2023, 02:25 AM by Magg.)

Just when he thought he caught onto her scent, the scampering of paws and the rustle of foliage told him he was close. In the dark and through the fog, everything beyond his nose was hard to discern. The peal of her laughter tipped him off, and he ran after her, lumbering yearling paws and all. When she emerged there was a blur of pale color, a mix of warm browns and tans, that streaked across his vision. The girl returned his bow and a click of her teeth. Anatole had to blink twice. It seemed she still wanted to play.

A crooked smirk formed on his maw and, he dropped down again, mirroring her stance. He barked at her before realizing that it was his turn to run. Or so he assumed.

As quickly as she had only moments before, he twisted about and began to sprint through the trees. There was no time to look over his shoulder to see if she was following or not. In haste, he went face-first into a shallow foxhole. Only his head and shoulders fit with a bit of space for his arms up to his elbows. The rest of him was left exposed. The earth was musty and old, and all attempts of fashioning the place into a proper den were long forgotten. Anatole's dark tail wagged as his rump fell to the ground. To him, he felt completely covered.

there used to be a greying tower
ANATOLE GERAU
alone on the sea

Challenge accepted. Magg's teeth showed she smiled so big, mischievous and confident. Her shoulders rolled, a soft growl began to hum within her throat, and then- he was off, before she could make her move. The young wolf snapped upright, head twisting in both surprise and curiosity. They only lasted a moment, grin returning as she took after him in chase.

The boy dove, and she expected to see the whole of him disappear. Instead he halted halfway, either stuck or content, and Magg had to dig in her paws good to stop herself. She blinked, and then the laughter began to bubble and well, genuinely mirthful at the goofy sight before her.

"Where'd you come from?!" she demanded to know through her giggling, unsure if he'd even be able to understand her past that barrier of earth. If too many moments passed without an response, she would bat at his tail playfully.

(This post was last modified: Oct 01, 2023, 02:45 AM by Magg.)