All very much welcome, would like to finally start getting Bella and Duck integrated into SW... and I need a new thread to get back into the swing of things c:
It was the effect on the wind which she had noticed the most, for up in the rocky mountains the air currents had little and less to stop them, save for the shape of the mountain itself, and as Bella had always preferred the wide open spaces to those covered in trees, going from that kind of environment to this dense, overgrown one was something approaching a culture shock. In the thicket, the wind rushed noisily through leaves and branches, clattering everything against itself, and sometimes it was hard to hear over the rush of air. Far from disliking its intensity, what was disconcerting was hearing but not feeling; huddled among the thorns and bushes one night, a terrible gale had blown over the woodland, and Bella had watched the canopy bend and sway wide-eyed. Yet her fur was still, the world at the forest floor calm and quiet compared to the blustering overhead. She hadn't needed to hide away to escape the winds, the forest protected her of its own volition.
It wasn't just the weather, either. She was used to being careful with her footsteps, but because of the dangers associated with living high up as opposed to the simple danger of tripping or getting caught in thick undergrowth. She constantly seemed to be picking bits of something or other out of her fur.
But there was a distinct kind of tranquillity to be found down here, Bella had concluded. She missed the horizons and the cool, clean air and the lake, but in their place was birdsong and pine and blackberries. It was alive down here, rich and thriving, and everywhere she turned there was evidence of someone who had passed by not long before.
Bella did not regret her decision to join the woodland wolves, and that was not least due to the effect it had had on her son. She could not regret a choice which had seemed to lift a weight from his chest, and seeing him so much more relaxed was a wonder.
Despite that, she had her nostalgic moments. And it was in one of those that she found herself that day, for as she had been stepping carefully through the woodland, the sound of wings and squawks and honks from somewhere out of sight gave her pause. Curiosity grabbed, she had tried to find somewhere so that she could catch a glimpse of the flock of geese, and finally stumbled across a spot in the thicket with a clear patch right in the tree canopy - through which she saw the long wings and brown feathers of the large birds. As they flew past, oblivious to their audience hidden away between the trees, she realised that she could see the top of the mountain through the beating wings. She had hesitated, given it a second-glance, and then decided that a few moments of self-indulgence couldn't hurt. Sitting down with a wistful sigh, her eyes traced over the familiar distant shape, her mind taking her right there. If she were one of those geese, she could have flown to the top without a care - but such a trip was not for the ground-bound, and ground-bound she now truly was.
Irritated by her own selfishness, for she had had many goods reasons to leave her birthplace and had landed on her feet in Secret Woodlands, the woman nevertheless could not shake the own yearning in her chest, and honestly knew that she was not trying very hard to do so.