the chill of coming winter

She had grown thinner and weaker. Hunger clawed deep at her belly, pain striking like lightning bolts through her innards. It was when that pain stopped, Sorren knew, that she was truly on the brink of death—not that she was all together healthy and vibrant at the moment. She tried not to allow the panic to consume her. It would be more difficult to join a pack now, even if she found Silver. Who wanted to take on a starving, weak yearling? Wouldn't it be best to simply allow nature to take its course?

Sorren could smell her kindred in the territories surrounding her, though nothing quite so strong as a pack. She had hoped that by following the river, she would run into someone (or something to eat), but it appeared to be a poor guess on her part. Without really knowing where she was—the territories seemed to all look the same, at least from her perspective and unfamiliarity with the area—Sorren lay down near the shore of the creek.

Stretching her neck out to reach the shallows, she drank deeply and desperately. It would not provide her with the same sort of sustenance as food, but it would fill her belly for a time.

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The creek's levels had finally stabilized more after the torrential rains they had witnessed. Of course, the temperatures had dropped drastically as well, and as his pumpkin eyes fell upon the flowing water, he could see pieces of ice within its depths as well. The crunch of the ground beneath his paws was the only sound besides the trickling of water within the still air of Cold Water Creek, and yet he welcomed the silence as much as anyone would who had turmoil on their mind.

His pace was leisurely at best -- the gentle lope only driven by his desire to scout out the outskirts of the pack lands in hopes that one of the local herds had moved to their direction. Of course, he was met with none, and once more the ivory beast felt the pull of wariness upon his chest; perhaps this side of the mountain had been a poor choice in settlement.

These thoughts absorbed him, and in turn, he almost missed the sprawled figure of the stranger. Only when his gaze flitted over her agouti form did he truly notice her, and he paused abruptly, surprised by her presence. His nose quivered then, finally taking in her scent and realizing with stupidity that had he been paying attention, he might have not been taken by such surprise. His tongue smoothed passed his lips, and shifting his weight, a guttural growl escaped his jaws -- not one of threat, but simply alerting hr of his presence. His eyes regarded her thoughtfully. His stance lifted slightly, natural instinct pressing his dominance upon her as the leader awaited for his presence to be noted.

Truthfully, as desperate as Sorren was, she did not notice the icy cold of the water she drank until she paused to catch her breath and found her throat burning. Indeed, the shallows were not really the shallows, but the break-off point from where the water was yet too deep to freeze. Her ears went back, ashamed that she hadn't noticed the drastic change in weather. Winter wasn't coming; it was here, and it was time for her to either find a pack or give in to nature's elements.

When she came out of that revelation, Sorren noticed the sound of pawsteps falling on the cold ground nearby. She swung her head in surprise to be greeted by the presence of an older male that appeared to be just as surprised as she was. Her ears went flat at his growl—submissive—though the sound did not seem terribly aggressive. Still, Sorren didn't want to press her luck. She shifted to her paws, painfully aware of how weak and thin her body had become. For the moment she did nothing other than acknowledge his presence and authority; she would wait to see if he would kill her, or if he deigned her someone worth saving.

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Look Out!

There is a rabbit's nest nearby. +1 Health

Phineas regarded her with silence, his emotions unrevealing. Her ears flattened submissively, placating him enough that he did not push anymore acknowledgement of dominance between the two. An agouti pelt wrapped around a thinning body. She was a yearling and perhaps too youthful to truly be facing the elements of such a harsh season alone. He himself had sought refuge within Willow Ridge just last year to avoid the bitter months ahead, and it was painfully obvious she had not yet done this.

His tail gave an idle sweep in the cool wind, contemplating the situation at hand. His nose lifted slightly at the scent of possibility, and casting the ragged rogue one last look, he gave a nod in the direction of something that might perhaps renew her energy. "Come this way," he rumbled, not waiting for a response before his paws swiftly began to pace down the creek edges, his eyes darting along the crevices of the terrain he knew so well.

It would seem his nose had not lied, and within moments his eyes captured the rabbits nest. Stiffening, he prowled to the side, his eyes shifting to her as he expectantly awaited for her to capture a possible meal. It was an opportunity to feed his kids, and yet the pack cache was full... The Argyris wolf could not fully decide why he felt compelled to offer this small bit of encouragement -- she was a lone-wolf, and meant nothing to him. And yet perhaps it was the fading glint in her eyes.. the shift of her figure. She reminded him slightly of Hypatia, and for now, he would allow the softer side of himself reign over this interlude.

He remained silent for an uncomfortable—at least it felt thus to a terrified, yearling loner—amount of time. Her submission seemed to placate him, however, for the elder and stronger male made no move to attack. As he lifted his head and his nostrils moved to glean what information they could from the wind, Sorren straightened her posture slightly and ventured to do the same—were they in danger? She never took her green eyes off him, lest he change his mind and attack, but they widened as she realized what he had noticed. As he nodded and rumbled in command, Sorren's body slouched in slight embarrassment—she had not noticed the scent of prey so close when she had first come to this place. If he did not think her inadequate before, he may very well believe so now.

She followed obediently, in hopes that his mood would not suddenly change for the worst. When they arrived at the warren, he waited expectantly, and Sorren realized it was a chance to prove herself. It would perhaps be in a small, pathetic way—but for the moment, she was a small and pathetic creature. It would have to do. She moved towards the entrance and began to dig a wide enough hole that her head might snatch whatever lay inside; she desperately hoped that there were no emergency exits, or that at least one of the small mammals would be slow enough for her to catch.

After a swift spray of half-frozen soil, and a dart of her head into the widened gap, Sorren emerged with a single rabbit in her jaws. She had been lucky, for it had taken a wrong turn and she caught it at a dead-end. Though her mouth watered around the creature, she set it delicately between the male and herself, and nudged it cautiously towards him. He seemed well-fed, but she did not want to presume too much and offend him by eating without his express approval. Sorren had no way of knowing his position in the pack, but she could smell other wolves interlaced in his own scent—and a pack wolf stood tall above those with no place to call home, no matter how highly or lowly they were ranked.

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She followed after him, and the male only took a moment to pause and tilt his muzzle back to catch view of her, noting the lanky thinness that could only be gained by absolute malnourishment. She could have been a pretty thing, and perhaps one day would be again if she found a place to call home.. especially with the upcoming winter.

The snow crunched beneath his paws – a quiet solitude of sorts, despite his company, and yet after he had stepped aside, it was almost eerie how quiet the land had gotten in this small pause as he awaited for her to present to him that she did have some form of sense and desire for self-preservation. Of course she did, and as the silver tawny female moved to dig a hole and begin her claim to food, the alabaster male rocked back to his haunches, his tail curling against his limb with eager patience.

She emerged victorious, and yet the Argyris was surprised at her offer to him – such absolute submission in which she gave him her meal – one she surely needed far more than he. Standing, his eyes studied the rabbit before glancing back up to her, and with no words, his muzzle lowered. His nose grazed the animal, inhaling it before he finally nudged it back toward her. As if to reiterate this meaning, Phineas took a pace back, his tail giving an idle flick. No words were needed for now – she could feast without worry, and introductions could be made once the ache in her stomach was less raw from hunger. He was in no rush.