The dark Tainn carried himself swiftly through the dead wood. The man couldn't out run what he wanted to, but he could try.
His lungs strained for greater amounts of air, his open mouth could not pull in fast enough. The high snow was an obsticle he was damned to conquer. Thick legs broke through it time, and again propelling him deeper into the territory. Triell was becoming rather good at being invisible, rather than invincible. How long he avoided any long encounters with the wolves of the river. How long he had kept from wandering to the mountain, to breathe in those haunting scents, and let his heart crave their blood. The Tainn planned to do it a little longer just to keep what he could of himself. Who he was any more, he didn't stop to ask. The blood kept pumping through him, and he kept running to the one home he had barely had.
Scarred tree, after tree he let them pass in his eyes. Yes, his paws knew where they were taking him. No one would be there to comfort him, no one would be there to talk to. He was sure this time he might be alone. What would he do when agony again tried to crush him? When his grief, and pain made him crash to his knees? When he didn't want to get up, but be buried in the snow till he could no longer breathe.
Thick muscles started to quiver, and he coughed once, hacking up something he didn't let himself glimpse. The great tree was so close, he was almost there. Triell had to plow through the snow. How his muscles screamed, and burned beneath his black coat. He was amazed how painful it felt. He dragged himself over one last drift before collapsing just a breath from the entrance. His breathing wild, and uncontrolled made his sides heave, and he closed his eyes not wanting to open them again.
Climbing over the drifts, she finally spotted it. Breathing in, she could almost smell it. There was really no scent there. She imagined it. Some fuzzy memory on the fringes of her mind. It pulled her forward through the snow as though she was simply walking on the surface of it. Her paws worked desperately against the snow, revealing the always present entrance to the old den. Quietly, she slipped in, unconcerned with whether or not anyone else would be inside. It was dark inside, cold, but protected from the wind. Borlla found herself hypnotized by the dulled sounds coming in from the outside, and drifted off to sleep within moments.
She arose from the sound of moving snow. It wasn't wind, it was more. It was a powerful sound, and she felt her hackles rise. This was her place now. A low growl began to build in her throat, though she wriggled forward to see if it was an intruder or an innocent passerby. It was neither. <b style="color:#32527a">"Brother," Borlla breathed, a mere foot from his nose. She felt frozen, fear building within her as she wriggled back again, trying to let the shadows consume her. <b style="color:#32527a">"speech."