Thicket of Secrets aching head, empty heart

"My name is Thestrel," she murmured, over and over beneath her breath. Her body felt as though she had slept for days—maybe even months—and was stiff, tense. Experimentally, the dark female shook out each extremity in turn: her tail, her hips, her left and right hind legs, her left and right fore legs, her head... and finally, an awkward wiggle of her ears. "That feels better," the yearling spoke, followed abruptly with a sneeze. "I guess." The process had freed her coat of most of the snow that had collected as she lay... where?

Her moss green eyes, which hadn't been focusing on anything in particular, now swept across her surroundings. Filled with a mix of trees, some barren and some evergreen, but all coated in snow, Thestrel couldn't quite make out anything between them. "My name is Thestrel," she repeated again, this time more loudly, "and I am lost." There was no way of telling which direction she was facing, nor where she should begin to walk to eventually find some kind of civilization. As she breathed the cold, winter air, the dark yearling was disappointed to find that it contained no information for her.

She was alone.

She sat.

She waited.

"My name is Thestrel, and I am lost," she muttered again with a sigh. How irritating.

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It was such a rarity to see the large beast from the Ridge pack lands, and yet his rush to settle before the long winter months spread across the land had meant his exploration of the land they called Relic Lore had been limited. This exploration was not just of his own gain however, for the ivory wolf was sure to keep his eyes and nose trailing a lone male elk. He had yet to come across the potential victim of Willow Ridge’s next pack hunt, but that did not deter him.

He came to the thicket with apprehension. The thickness of the brush ensured that he would likely not find his prey within its depths, yet that was not a certainty. Lifting himself up, the ivory male allowed his claws to rake the bark of a tree, leaving a prominent scent. With that, the Argyris wolf slipped in to the woods, his eyes raking over the wooded area with intrigue.

The gentle murmur of another came to him before her scent or the sight of her. The pause in words before a repetitive response caused him to hesitate momentarily. Crouching lower, the large male crept forward, the words becoming more clear as she came to view now – the dark of her fur mingling well within the brush. He listened, her words came, again and again, and he blinked. He could not leave her to this fate, and clearing his throat, Phineas slipped forward, his muzzle lowered non-threateningly as he gave a gentle ‘wuff’ in hope that she would not balk at his presence.

I'd like to continue this if you do, Rachel! Since Guinevere is inactive, I'm just going to ignore her post... not really sure of the protocol.

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Absorbed as Thestrel was in the conversation she was having with herself, the she-wolf did not pick up on the cues that would have alerted her to the approach of another. At least, not until he was in her field of vision and offering a soft chuff in greeting. She tensed, the fur along her back rising slightly, but the reaction was born of surprise and not aggression. Her green eyes studied the male for a moment, nostrils taking in and analyzing his scent. Thestrel could smell others on him, though the same scent did not overwhelm this place—she was not trespassing, then, but the fact he belonged to a pack required some caution regardless.

"Hello," she said carefully, her posture slowly moving to one that could in no way be interpreted as threatening. "Can you tell me where I am? I seem to have forgotten, well... everything. Except that my name is Thestrel. Nice to meet you."

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Pfft.. of course I do! <3 I'm glad you're still with us. <33

He studied her – the cautious way she held herself now as she in turn regarded him back. Her thoughts were unknown to him, but he could not help feel that there was something off about the she-wolf before him, even without taking in consideration the words she had repeated before he had interrupted her chant. His muzzle swung slightly lower in a brief nod of greeting, his tail swaying nonplussed behind him as his gaze settled upon her cheek rather than directly to her own eyes.

Of course, her mantra and behavior became more clear as she introduced herself, and Phineas found himself giving the she-wolf a confused blink. He had never heard of such a thing – memory loss – though it would appear he would soon become far more accustom to such a fate, given his leader was about to suffer the same illness as the girl before him. “Phineas,” he offered, his tone giving way no inclination of his own weariness to this meeting now. “You’re in a land called Relic Lore. I am uncertain of what the inhabitants call this specific territory.. I come from a pack South of here.” He paused in his words, soon falling silent, uncertain of what was expected of him, given this stranegr had no recollection of anything but her calling.

(This post was last modified: Feb 10, 2013, 03:16 PM by Phineas.)