Rissa's Rest Let My Motives Be My Motivation

Dated to February 23rd, if that's okay. For @Sachiel :D

There were teeth marks on the left side of his rib cage and some more on his muzzle. His mom wasn’t the one that put them there, but he blamed her anyway. She was the one that kicked him out of the pack. If she hadn’t done that he still would have been at home doing what he always did, which was being awesome and way more useful than she could ever dream of being. He wouldn’t have been in the middle of nowhere heading north—north! The opposite direction of south and the opposite direction of home.

He didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. His idea of following the mountains south had barely even existed before certain assholes and cowards wrecked them. And, sure, he could have just given the mountains a wide berth and reconnected with them further down the road. But the more he thought about going home the less he liked it. He’d dealt with so much garbage within the three weeks he’d been exiled. Making the long trek home and acting like a brat for a week didn’t seem like enough of a punishment for his parents.

They thought they could live without him? Fine. Whatever. He didn't need to inherit Cutthroat Creek to be successful. He could—shit, he didn't know, make his own pack or something. It would be hard when the wolves in the area sucked in all meanings of the word, but that would probably make conquering them more rewarding. Or maybe he could just hide in the mountains until his parents came and begged him to return.

Hell if he knew. With an irritated huff, Daighre ignored the pain in his side and forced himself to stomp faster through the clearing.

The tawny boy was impatiently waiting for winter to end so the colours would return. They were still there, buried beneath a blanket of alabaster snow, muted and hidden in plain sight. One of the reasons why he’d chosen to remain in the northern forest was because of the array of colours. The tones, the variation of hues, the selections. Much more appealing than the obnoxious orange leaves in the south. It wasn’t just the snow Sachiel didn’t like, but the cold too. It made his bones ache and his limbs tremble. Sure, it meant he could snuggle up closer to his packmates in their shared den, but he longed for the warmer temperatures to return.

He was alone as he made his way south, which was unusual for the boy. Typically Pumpkin Eyes accompanied him, especially through the southern territories, but today was different. He’d slunk away from the shallows, unsure of whether he was pursuing a hunt or information, but eager to indulge in a few hours of solitude. When he had lived in the Vale the agouti had spent countless hours alone, but life in the shallows was different. He had packmates who cared about him and wanted to spend time with him, even if he did not necessarily want it. He was seldom alone in the north; sometimes by choice, sometimes not.

A loud huff alerted him of another’s presence, causing a frown to crease his dark features as his steps ceased. His nose quivered as he lifted his maw to locate the source of the sound, his ears cupped forward. Dare he greet the irritated stranger? The boy hesitated, his toes drumming along the frigid ground. 

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

The part that amazed him most about the clearing—not that he ever really gave a shit about his surroundings—was how quiet it was. There was only the sound of his own breathing and the crunch of snow under his paws. He couldn’t hear anybody snooping in the bushes or hear anybody coming to greet him. Really, the wolves in the area should have been proud of themselves. They could mind their own business. Who knew? Not him, that was for damn sure.

Maybe his idea of sticking around wasn’t too bad. It would piss his parents off and get them worried sooner or later when he didn’t turn up on the borders like they probably expected him to. He could take some time for himself that wasn’t spend patrolling borders or filling caches—not that he needed a break. It would be a luxury. Something he did for a few days or weeks until his parents came calling or until he got bored. And—

His paws stumbled to a halt and his eyes narrowed into a glower when he stumbled upon the kid standing in the bushes. His mind jumped back into the last few seconds he spent walking. Had they been there long? Were they following him? His shoulders tensed, his ears rolled forward, and his posture stiffened.

“What.”

He thought about fleeing the scene. Continuing along his trail or returning to the shallows. Anything but greeting the annoyed stranger he’d accidentally stumbled upon. Although he had a tendency to be outgoing Sachiel didn’t always have the confidence to back it up. Especially when he was alone, for he was used to either his sidekick or his grumpy leader being at his side.

Unfortunately, for the boy, the stranger had caught sight of him before he could disappear. Immediately he was greeted by a pair of orange eyeballs, which made his legs stiffen beneath him. He was quick to avert his gaze, focusing instead on the stranger’s chin and chest. A word followed next, heavy and dripping with frustration. Red. His tongue struggled to form words as his ears swept back against his skull, his expression neutral; unthreatening. I, uh— he fumbled, a frown cutting across his dark maw, sorry. I wasn't followin’ you, I swear. Really, he wasn’t. Just heard a grunt and was curious as to where it came from. No threat here. You okay? He asked once he noticed the bite marks on the pale wolf, his brows pinched tight with concern.

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

When he found the kid standing in the bushes Daighre expected the scenario to play out a few different ways. Either the kid would be stupid enough to give him attitude or someone else would suddenly appear and give him attitude. What he didn’t expect—and probably never would after spending a week of getting used like a battering ram—was for the kid to roll their ears back and avert their gaze. His own ears rolled back in displeasure and he fought the urge to sneer. Weren’t they just the epitome of politeness and good manners.

It was enough to throw him off his game. Was he supposed to let the situation deescalate like nature intended or escalate it himself because it was what he was used to? But then they kid spoke—finally stuttered out an answer and Daighre had half the mind to snap at him to spit it out already—and he recoiled like he’d been slapped.

The part about not following him was whatever. He knew how to deal with that. Except the brat asked if he was okay and Daighre stepped back with his body tensed and jaw clamped shut. Were they scared of him or worried about him? They needed to make up their mind before Daighre made it up for them.

“Fine.” He ground out. “Peachy.”

Why did he always find the grumpy wolves? Was it something about his sunny disposition that attract wolves with frowns permanently etched across their features? Or was it because he, too, fell under the grumpy category?

It didn’t matter. Sachiel knew better than to poke the bear. He didn’t want to harass the stranger any further—not if he wanted to return to the shallows with all of his limbs firmly attached. He remained quiet for a moment, his mismatched gaze sweeping over the scratched up stranger, his brows pinched tight in concern. Fine. Peachy. The boy didn’t believe it, but he also didn’t want to pester the yearling with more questions. Not when he already seemed irritated with Sachiel’s presence. So he shuffled backward, increasing the distance between himself and the ivory youth before he spoke up once more; his tone soft and disinterested. Okay, he started, his shoulders rolling with the word as it tumbled off his tongue, but if those cuts are bothering you you can eat some of the bark off the fir trees. He pointed to some of the trees in the area; the ones with the desaturated green needles. One of his favourite colours.

He shrugged once more, letting his words sink in as he readied himself to leave. The yearling clearly wasn’t interested in having company and Sachiel wasn’t interested in socializing with a grump. Even if he just wanted to help him. 

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

The kid spoke and Daighre’s features crumpled into a mixture of disgust and dawning realization. Because was he really acting dumber than some little brat? He knew about white fir. Grew up around the shit ever since his mom decided it wasn’t her job to patch up his wounds. His tail gave an irritated twitch and he followed the kid’s gesture towards nearby forest.

“Shit.” He’d been joking earlier when he thought stupidity was contagious. But maybe it really was because he was forgetting basic plants and their uses. And he’d only been in the area for a week. Stupidity and poor judgment must have been really contagious. His shoulders raised into a defensive slouch and he looked away from the kid and the trees. “Yeah. I knew that.” What kind of idiot didn’t know what fir trees did and what they looked like?

He was slipping. Getting lazy. Must have been something in the water or air. Would sure as hell explain the bastards he’d met before that got him into this mess.

I knew that. He blinked, a frown still present on his dark features. He hoped he hadn’t offended the stranger by giving him advice he already knew, but how was Sachiel supposed to know that? The grumpy yearling was difficult—if not impossible—to read. And the tawny Leigh felt as though he was overstaying his welcome. Okay, he repeated, his voice a little unsure as his head tilted softly to one side. Y’need directions or anything? He offered, unsure of what else to do. If the stranger wasn’t going to take his help then Sachiel would leave, as he didn’t want to impose any further. He had Edgy business to take care of and didn’t need some weirdo distracting him, especially when the weirdo didn’t appear to be friendly or in the mood for conversation. The boy remained where he was for a few more moments, waiting patiently for a response from the orange-eyed youth. Despite the sullen, wrinkled expression the blonde yearling didn’t appear threatening. A little battered and worn from travel (and whatever else) but certainly not dangerous.

Or maybe that’s what he wanted Sachiel to think.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Sachiel was ready for this interaction to be over if the stranger didn’t want any help from him.

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

The longer the stilted conversation between them dragged on the more trapped Daighre felt. Was he supposed to eat the bark and start doing back flips to convince the kid he really was okay? Bare his teeth and verbally tell them to leave? Walk away and hope for the best? And it was for these exact reasons Daighre couldn’t stand others. They focused on pointless shit that wasn’t their business and always—always—acted surprised when decided he had enough.

Case in point was when the brat had the nerve to ask him if he needed directions. He wasn’t an old man that needed to be escorted from place to place. And like hell would he ever be one. He fought the urge to snap at them and settled for a derisive snort. Did he need directions?

“No.” And just to really drive the point home—“I know where I’m going.”

There is a moose carcass that has been scavenged by coyotes nearby. +15 Health