Sex: FemaleWarbler could only stare at the ugly thing that jut from the earth like some horrific abscess; she need only look at it for one moment to decide: No, I will not climb this thing. It was not so easy as the slopes of the Caldera, and it looked like death. She hadn't the courage to even look the grand landscape in the eye, and so she turned from it with a sneer. The narrow woman settled a bit of a distance from its base and looked to the sky. It had just turned morning; she had just arrived to this land, wherever it was. She had to find that Nightingale. Her mothers prophecy had damned the both of them, but it would be Warbler who reaped the benefits in the end. That could only happen when that tawny songbird, so curious, so loud and annoying, was put to her end.
Perhaps she should find a meal, or perhaps a wolf of this land to tell her just where she was. Maybe they would have met a Nightingale. Maybe she could coerce them into helping her find her. What sort of wolves lived here? What sort of mask must she wear? At present, she was too tired to pretend much of anything. Too tired to desire company, even. But she kept her wits about her, hunkering down. It was a damn cold day, and her thin, straggly coat did her as much a favor as the fog. No matter what, for the time there was no moving on from here. Resting her bones sounded the most appealing thing to do, but she did not yet lay, wary of this place and prepared to flee if need be.
Birds were chirping all around, greeting the new day in an insistent choir, apparently determined that it was now morning, despite the sky still being dark. It wasn't quite the deep, almost-black blue, illuminated by the myriad of stars, that she remembered from her very first nights outside the den; A sight so captivating that she had stayed awake to stare at it for hours, before exhaustion finally won out and she collapsed, nestled snugly against her father's belly. Rather, the heavens were painted a bleak, sinister charcoal grey, seeming too light for the death of night, but dominating it none the less, and often lasting far into the day as well. Under this heavy, winter ceiling, sat a young wolf, tall enough to level with most adults, yet obviously still in her first year, mostly long, thin bones covered in fluffy winter-fur. She had been up even before the birds, restlessness having drawn her to the edge of the Pines, where she had sat down under one of the trees that were still standing, watching the nighttime landscape of the forest. It was no new activity for the curious lass, studying everything around her was her favorite pastime, and she had long ago realized how things changed at night. New animals came out after their rivals or predators had gone to sleep, soon followed by other predators who had adapted to the new waking hours of their prey.
But having seen this change, over and over, Nalda Zamora was, like with so much else, bored of it. She longed for something new, and as the harmony of the morning birds grew increasingly loud, she set out, leaving behind her home, that meant little more to her than tedious familiarity and a full stomach, to hunt new adventures. She went south, soon joining up with an out-runner from the Secret Falls – barely a trickle in the winter frost – which she followed for a time on a mostly southward route. At some point, after the land had gotten as light as it would probably be, the overcast sky diffusing the suns distant light into a sickly, dimness, the russet girl reached a spot where the water disappeared among scattered rocks, soon building into a rigid highland of strange, rounded cliffs, almost glowing in an even deeper sienna color than her own fur. Surprise and wonder marked the young wolf's face as she looked up at the hills, shocked that this had been so close to her home all along and she hadn't even known. Her movements slowed to a still as she stared, considering whether she should try and climb the rocks, to get a closer view, when a sound suddenly caught her attention. Ears swiveled, followed a second later by the rest of her head, golden eyes wide as she stared through the fog. When she caught sight of, not just another life form, but another wolf, her gaping jaws instantly clasped, a sharp intake of air releasing a whining sound, way too loudly into the quiet space between them; Shit.
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"Speech" Thoughts
A figure seemed to form before her eyes as the mist swirled and parted, shifting all around the moving being. Warbler knew she could move, and perhaps she ought to of. But the rude, indignant woman sneered at the thought. She had been here, first. And when the other seemed to notice her at last, the only thing that came to pass was a long whine. Warbler could hardly see the other, but her jack-o-lantern eyes narrowed at the sound.
Warbler lurched forward to snap threateningly at the others face; if she landed a hit upon anything, she did not know, for she thrust her body aside in one short, stiff bound. It was warning enough that she wanted the other to keep her distance.Watch it,came vehement tones, and then,I nearly thought you were dinner.She sniffed loudly to gather what she could about the other who had invaded her space, ears aggressively thrust forward. Warbler tried to gather her bearings in the meantime.