Ghastly Woods tempus vernum

To put it straightforwardly, Mapplethorpe in his now slowly deteriorating state was afraid. To set him apart from all the rest, it could be said that the brand of fear that this grizzled man harbored was more terrifying than the one Angier Lyall suffered when he had found out that his son had gone missing, and more paralyzing than the terror that Borden Lyall had faced when he had learned that a sickness was coming his way from he heights of the Mountain of Dire. The shivers and unsteadiness in his step were far more demanding than the ones even Sköll Archer and Fenru Donata had felt when they had nearly lost their lives in a flash flood that quickly filled their den sites. Even Tannis Andreas, a man who constantly lived in fear of the world around him, could barely rival the Hollowheart Keep Leader when it came to the shakes that wracked his arthritis-stricken joints.

Something or someone was close... Watching him, sniffing him out, waiting for something... He could feel their ghostly eyes raking up and down his tawny frame, staring at his gaunt, masked face when he wasn't particularly looking. Every shadow, it seemed held nothing within it though each time he took a moment to truly stare at it and assure himself that no one and nothing had been there to begin with. It mortified him beyond words, which was something anyone could have easily taken note of. For man of tactics and worldly experience, nothing should have scared Mapplethorpe at all...

Yet, as he ambled along and between territory markers that had once been kept up by Sagacity (whose absence actually forced the Leader even further into his worries), he could not help but to try and keep himself on his toes. He felt that he needed to be one of the few on the edges of the Keep in order to protect his own cubs from the possibility of being captured by those who sought retaliation for little Deacon's abduction.

(This post was last modified: Jul 24, 2014, 12:08 AM by Mapplethorpe.)

Growing quickly now, the quiet boy was slowly gaining confidence. Bolstered by his sisters boldness he was gradually coming into his quiet, observant own. The missing members had not gone unnoticed by the child, nor his mothers clearly agitated state so he did his best to keep his sister distracted so she could have some peace. Some days he did better than others.

His small nose was trained to the ground as he tried to follow @Asphodel’s trail, but when he came to a small stream, easily crossed in two steps by a much larger wolf, the small child was stumped. As the water splashed at his nostrils he realised his sisters trail had ended. If he had bothered to take the short journey across the shallow stream he would have picked it up again directly across from where he stood - but he had neither the experience or willpower to do so without assistance. His rump falling to the damp ground in defeat he tipped his rust tinted muzzle skyward and unleashed a mournful high pitched howl to the sky, begging his sister to come back to him or for one of the grown ups to come and help him find her.

While he waited, his small body shook, his nose twitched and his ears swiveled. The dappled light made him squint as he tipped his muzzle skyward and the foreign brightness danced across his coat. A nervous whine built in his belly as the moments ticked by without a sound to indicate the approach of his sister or a pack mate. The trees creaked overhead and the small pup jolted. He wasn’t used to being alone.

So many wolves had left them since his reign - Gent, Taima, Karpos, Aponi, and Mercy among the few - but to ever think about being without Chulyin or Sagacity had not been something Mapplethorpe had expected. As neither Guardian nor Scout was around to come running to little Asphodel's call, Mapplethorpe found himself urging his limbs onward. The boy's voice was not as strained as it could have been - in pain, fear, utmost distress, or otherwise - but the undertones of panic was enough for the Leader to try and close the distance as quickly as possible. For a while he hobbled about, his staggered steps eventually bringing him to one of the small streams that snaked their way through the Ghastly Woods towards the Keep that was serving as a primary rendezvous for the cubs. And, there was Hemlock with his still puppy-blue eyes full of confusion and unmistakable incertitude.

The Leader was slow to approach him, not wanting to scare the boy even more. "Ahh, fili mi," he smiled, his tone nothing but gentle and soothing as he stepped to Hemlock's side. He grazed his tongue over one large ear and then the other. His own leathery nose twitched as he tested the scents borne on his son's coat. He let out a small, relieved sigh. No blood, no strange musk, nor even a hint of something out of place... The pack's scent still dominantly lingered around the cub.

His goldenrod eyes followed where Hemlock's line of sight had led to, assuming that someone - most likely Naira or Asphodel - had simply left the lad behind. A low growl bubbled up in his throat, a simple sound that should have comforted the youth and let him know that his father was there... absolutely reluctant to just let whoever had just left leave Hemlock behind.

"What's wrong?" He let his gaze sweep over the young master's form now, looking over the all too familiar markings on Hemlock's face. He might have looked like both of his parents, but his personality thus far was proving that he was definitely his father's son; and, Mapplethorpe was not just going to let the little prince just sit around, neglected.