Note to self: set the same day as 'slim shady', and day before 'among the flares of flowers'.
<blockquote><font style='margin-left:20px;'><i>"I'm glad you found us," she said, and Trisden stared up at her, entranced by those rich green eyes. The large, silvery wolf was naturally commanding, and yet despite that, reminded Trisden only of safety. She had spent a lot of her childhood obsessing over the face of evil, of demons, of darkness - and this leader's face made her think of her mother.
</font><font style='margin-left:20px;'>She was still very much a child. Any reminder of her parents was an instant comfort. Hocus did not seem as convinced, but Trisden was oblivious to his agitation. She was aware of many eyes on them, the young, thin siblings who had been surrounded by the very wolves they had been trying to track, but her reaction was to do nothing but lift her chin a little. She had left her demons in Cedarwood. Whatever barrier she had once constructed against her fears had been abandoned; she was determined not to need them.
</font><font style='margin-left:20px;'>Trisden cocked her head, eyes alight. "You sound like you were expecting us."
</font><font style='margin-left:20px;'>"Of course. Nobody crosses our path by accident."</i></font>
Slowly she stretched, her creamy paws pushing forwards until they breached the edge of the rocky ledge she had stopped to rest on. Though completely safe, for she was laid down and her balance was far from compromised, she momentarily relished the bizarre knowledge that her paws hung out over many, many feet of empty space. She was not a mountain wolf, nor had she any intentions of becoming one. She had been born in a forest, and would forever feel safest surrounded by the might of bark and leaves.
But her existence was in a state of limbo right now. She was not a Cedarwood wolf, nor was she a wolf of the Pilgrimage any longer, and she had no right to call anywhere home.
Cautiously she eyed the expanse of forest in the distance, beyond the field of red, beyond the winding rivers. <i>That</i> was her home. Whether or not her mother would allow her to live there once again was unknown, and though the thought terrified her, she was prepared for rejection. What had she been but a failure, after all? She was not worthy of her mother's respect.
But these were exactly the thoughts that she had come here to challenge - that she had come here to prove <i>wrong</i>.
Yawning, she retracted her paws and placed her head upon them, content to rest for a short while longer. She had been travelling all night, after all, and there was no need to arrive dishevelled and exhausted. There was no rush, either. Each step was a trial, but each step... it was a little easier than the last.</blockquote>