Lost Lake The path of the lost

@Mojave

Lucien's impromptu quest to leave the west behind and journey over the mountain toward the east was not going quite to plan. The young wolf had found himself thwarted first by the height and ruggedness of the peak, and though he'd found some brief company on his journey up the mountain, after parting ways he had neither successfully managed to make his way down into the east, nor find his way back to the western slopes. Instead, he found himself trapped by a sudden snow storm, forcing him to take meager shelter among a pile of boulders, and leaving him rather disoriented once the weather relented a little. Clouds still blanketed the sky, dumping fat flakes of white that temporarily banished any preliminary signs of spring, and reasserted winter's cruel rule over the land. Lucien knew he ought to try and find his way out of the mountains, but the path he was on winding down into a steep-sided valley, with the mountain highlands still looming in upon every side.

He knew it wouldn't get him out of the mountains, but he found himself picking his way along the rocky paths down into the little vale anyway. He could see the perfect white surface of a frozen lake, winking back at him through the trees like a sliver of sky. He only hoped it wasn't entirely iced over - perhaps he could quench his thirst here, instead of just eating snow, which was never as satisfying to him as it ought to be. Maybe the little sheltering valley harbored prey to hunt, other beasts fleeing the snows like himself. Perhaps he might even find other wolves there. The idea brought a small smile to his jaws and put some of the spring back in his step.

As he broke past the last of the scraggly confiers to look out at the lake, he had to admire the sight of it. An expanse of perfect, unbroken white, where even the mountains came to dip their feet and drink. Letting out a quite visible puff of air, he trotted to it's edge and began to mar the perfect beauty, digging at the snow in search of weak ice at the lake's edge where he might drink.

I appear to have rambled a bit here; it's probably left over lunacy from coming home from work and trying to wind down.

Mojave wanted to believe that spring was right around the next bend.  That somewhere, perhaps even further down the mountainside into the wilderness, that there was a section where it no longer snowed, where it no longer felt chilly and miserable out.  And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy the scenery that winter brought.  She did.  She was simply fed up of dealing with it.  But it had also had something to do with her newest choice of travel — playing mountain goat.  Where some had found the pathways unintelligible or lacked the ability to navigate them, she had drifted through them with some relative ease.

Mountains weren't really anything all that different for her to venture across.  She had crossed them on her way there, probably crisscrossed over the very mountain range she had been trekking through at some point.  But she really didn't know or spare a thought about it otherwise.  Nor did she actually take into consideration of the actual difficulty there was in her travels.  She was weary and clouded, not quite thinking things through.  If not for a parting tiff with a coyote some odd week ago, she thought she would have been fine.  But instead the marks along her back were a fine sign that no, she should not have underestimated the temper of a hungry critter.

One would have argued that she should not have underestimated the temper of her uncle either, but that was water under the bridge now.  Mostly.  There were times, times like now she discovered as she unceremoniously slid down a rocky incline, that she felt like they still trailed after her.  Making sure that gone stayed gone.  Mojave sprang at the last moment as the incline came to a stop, bounding ahead as though it were effortless.  The snow slowed her, made her comical; the telling signs of a youth she was not so ready to leave behind.  And when she spotted another along the banks of a lake she didn't even know was there, she beelined for them unquestionably.  Along the way came the playful pauses where she jumped against the ice, making crude openings with her front feet.  A single bark left her towards the end, alerting him to her presence as though he would have been unable to see her coming.

(This post was last modified: Mar 09, 2015, 06:38 AM by Mojave. Edit Reason: oh god formatting what u do stahp )

I'm really sorry for the delay. The last month has really gotten away from me :/

The ice gave way easily enough before his paws; it seemed that shifting temperatures had left it mealy and half-melted already. Though he wasn't particularly fond of the bitterly cold liquid, it was far more refreshing than eating snow - he tried to go about it slowly despite his thirst, it was odd how cold water could almost seem to burn. Luc's head was dipped low down to drink, but it snapped up quickly as he heard the sound of disturbance. Chestnut ears perked forward, and his tail rose a degree and swayed in happy curiosity. It seemed he had company.

She was coming down the icy beach at him, pausing occasionally with a playful hop that left the ice shattering beneath her paws. When her bark rang out he had already taken a step forward, and quickly he gave his own bark in response, trotting ahead to stop short a few strides from the unfamiliar girl.

Tilting his muzzle into the breeze, Lucien sniffed at the air - was she part of a pack, or a loner like him? He didn't detect the tell-tale, overpowering scents of others upon her, just her own clear aroma. Probably not part of a pack, then. She seemed to be young, younger than him even - perhaps even as young as he'd been when he first left home last year. By the looks of things, she didn't seem to be faring entirely well, either - her coat was a range of colors from amber to silver, but it looked dull, and the scars on her back looked like more than just a conversation piece."Hello there! Fine day, no?" he glanced at the cloud-filled, snow-spitting sky above with a dry smile. "I'm Lucien Chastain, a traveler...." he began cheerfully, resisting the urge to let his enthusiasm get the best of him. Perhaps his least favorite thing about traveling was the part about being alone, but certainly his favorite part was the wolves he got to meet along the way - at least, those that weren't snapping at his heels for hunting too close to their territory, or getting too friendly with the members.