Blow by Blow

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Jack lay comfortably at the mouth of her den, watching the storm with warm eyes and an infinitely better attitude than she had the night previous. She was feeling more like herself. The world didn't end when she had left her pack. Hell, she had survived an entire year on her own. She was young, she had much to offer, and she was pretty much a bad-ass. Any pack would be happy to have her really. Not that she was looking at settling down for good.

With this change in outlook Jack got to her feet suddenly. The night was young yet, and she wasn't ready for bed by any means. One singular and savory inhalation of ozone christened her evening voyage, with little note being taken of the torrentous rain which had conquered the day.

Stealing away from her newly constructed den Jack headed southeast at a solid pace. Chances were she'd be back before long, even though her intent was threefold on this trek. One, to find some reliable form of sustenance, two mapping the area immediately about her den, which held clues of canis population on the moist wind, and lastly to accidentally run into something, anything, to interact with. It would be nice if she could speak intelligently to someone. Beggars couldn't be choosers though, and it was likely that she’d settle for talking to her dinner if things came to that.

Her thin body disappeared into the tree line nose to the wet ground and ears alert and searching. It wasn't long before the ground became spongy and moss became the prevalent decoration.

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Set 10/14/13

(This post was last modified: Oct 15, 2013, 04:56 PM by Jackal.)

River had awakened later than usual. It wasn't easy to rest with so much on her mind, but it had to be evening by the time she finally opened her eyes. She woke to the rushing sound of rain outside her den. As much as she wanted to curl up again and sleep through the unpleasant weather, she was already alert; besides, prey would be much less active in the downpour. If she could find any, of course.

She was somewhat thrilled at the prospect of being awake deep into the night. It had been some time since she had felt energetic enough to stay up until dawn, but maybe with a short nap, she could continue her search into the sunrise. As a loner she had several tasks to choose from each day depending on her mood: hunting, scoping out packs to potentially join, and getting to know layout of this strange new place which she found herself in. Being so well-rested, perhaps she could do a little of all three tonight.

It was still early evening when she reached a mossy area of the wood. She had passed through here once before, but it was an even lovelier place in the rain. Lovely, yet eerie. With no sun, there were no shadows and the wet moss almost appeared to glow. The pale woman slowed her pace and made her way across the damp moss, as cold as snow on her paws, but much softer. Something dark moved in the corner of her eye and she looked over her shoulder, her ears up and her nose twitching hopefully. To her surprise, it was not a rabbit, a deer or a raccoon moving across the spongy ground. It was a dark, slender wolf, nose skimming the moss.

The Arctic held still for a moment. Since this female was just about her size, River saw no reason not to approach. Turning around, she relaxed her posture, not wanting to appear threatening herself. "Hello," she spoke warmly, adding a smile as well. She hadn't seen another wolf in at least three weeks.

(This post was last modified: Oct 20, 2013, 11:10 PM by River.)

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If living alone had done anything positive for Jack , it had been an increased sense of awareness. Fearing for your safety and yearning for sustenance made one constantly looking into the smallest of smells, the most miniscule sounds. Due to this honed aspect, River’s approach was not unexpected. In fact, it was orchestrated. In her tracking escapades Jack had made a hard decision. Follow the fresh tracks of a vulpine, or attend to the increasingly strong fragrance of wolfess riding the damp evening air. Though her stomach protested, her sanity took the helm, leading inky paws as if she were in a trance to head off River at a nonchalant pace.

So here they were.

Raising her rubicund eyes from the mossy terrain Jack looked casually at her new companion, before letting out an inconspicuous chuff in response. Pivoting her body towards the blonde female Jack returned the smile and raised her new companion an enthusiastic wag. ”Pack-less as well?” the question came punctuated with an animated and playful sniffing of the air. Considering the incredible downpour it was a wonder she hadn’t accidently inhaled water as well. ”My name is Jackal…” she added with a raise of her dark brows, encouraging the healthier female to offer hers.

It was in part Jack’s personal mission to make this wolf feel comfortable around her enough to stay. This was a difficult task considering a strong weakness of the cinnamon female had always been the admiration of other females. For Jack as well as her family the fascination had been pinned as wholly odd, and entirely shameful. How could beauty concentrate itself so cruelly within the fairer sex? Sinuous curves danced tauntingly beneath her acquaintances fair fur. The serene innocence of her cornflower eyes pulling gathering Jack’s attention so entirely, and with so little effort. . For these reasons Jack was torment inwardly, all the while her practiced body language did well to hide her satisfaction in this meeting.

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