Windsong Fjord beautiful hell

@Kjors 
Heavy snow, 29 ° F, -1 ° C

The icy air burned through her airways with each steady breath, dandelion yellow eyes settled on the forest ahead with an intent, meditative focus. Not a hair moved on her body as she sat, the snow that flitted down between the leafless branches settling across Nova's angled shoulders and topping her head in a layer of steady accumulation.

Down the steep, sloping terrain of the Fjord she could see long, graceful limbs of the deer shifting through the trees in the distance. They weren't moving towards her, nor away, but rather cutting straight across her line of sight, perhaps using the Fjord as a shortcut to richer grazing grounds. She waited until they were out of eyeshot, only her eyes trailing their movement through the forest until not a single inch of brown fur or antlers could be spied between the trees.

In a swift movement she stood and began to tread after them, her own lean legs mimicking their slow, steady strides as she silently stalked after them. She had been following this herd for hours, what she knew to be a rather pointless endeavor on her own, unless lady luck was on her side and one of them tripped down the hillside and snapped a leg on the way.

The heavy snowfall was met with a certain amount of disgust reserved only for the coldest and wettest of hells. What Kjors had done to deserve this particular punishment from Mother and her nature, he had no idea, but it was with flat ears and a flatter mood that the swarthy male cut a path from the edge of Zephyr Rill into the northern territories. Some small part of him hoped he might spot his priestess out amongst the freshly fallen blanket of cotton white, but the dragon squashed down such a foolish thought with a determined snort.

If she wanted to come back, she would.

If she did not, then Karina was no more a wolf than Urotho. Another broken promise. He snorted in disgust and moved onwards, scenting the herd of deer as he moved. At one point, he considered how difficult it would be to steer them towards pack lands, but discarded the notion quickly. He was one wolf – it was an entire herd. It would be like trying to change the flow of a river with only his paws as aid.

Ears pressed further back as another scent filtered across the wind – a wolf. It stunk of the waterfall, and the demons he’d found there. Kjors immediately changed his course, seeking out the lone female with a low growl. “Yer far from home,” he rumbled, single eye narrowed. “What’re y’doin’ so far north?”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

A sudden growl off to her side pulled her from her reverie, a yip drawn from her throat as yellow eyes flashed wide. Her paws fumbled against the snow as she drew away, giving herself some room between her and the shadow coated male. Despite her greater stature she lowered her neck and tail in submission, ears folding at the accusation in his rough voice. As her eyes rose to meet his, she was surprised to find the solitary golden orb, mirrored by a empty socket, puckered by scars. She stared into the void for a few seconds, more than was probably polite, before she found her words.

"Nothing sir," She said softly as she pulled her focus back to the lone eye, her dandelion yellow pair blinking as her tongue flashed out over her nose.  "Just getting out to clear my head, is all." She answered. It was nothing like the fresh air of the mountains, but with the weather too wild to brave the passes, it was close enough. Her head tilted slightly, oversized ears tentatively lifted in curiousity. She wasn't sure how he knew where her home was, or that she was far from it. Was it simply the fact that she was a stranger to this region?  "Do you live here? I didn't mean to intrude if so, sir. I was just following..." She trailed off as she peered off over the man's shoulder, a sigh heaving from her barreled chest and meeting the air in a cloud of mist. They were gone.

“T’ th’ east,” Kjors replied shortly, tossing his head in the general direction of the tall redwood trees.  She didn’t need anymore information than that, not before he understood exactly who she was, and what her purpose out in the Snowmarch Expanse was.  Windsong Fjord was not his as it was not anybody’s in particular, but he still had pack interests at heart.  All strangers must be accounted for.

That she appeared submissive did nothing to ease the dragon, who remained vigilant and poised for action should the younger wolf try anything sneaky.  Size was to her advantage, and he’d not let her catch him unawares if skullduggery was her intention.

“Wha’s yer name, lass?” he demanded sternly, tail flicking over his narrow haunches.  “Lands ain’t mine, an’ neither is tha’ deer herd, though Ah dunno what yer figurin’ y’ were gonna do on yer own ‘bout them.”  She didn’t look too skinny, so Kjors doubted desperation would drive her to do something utterly stupid.  Still, she was far from own, all by herself.  One ear rotated back as he scented the wind a second time, double-checking his own assumption lest this be some sort of ambush.  

The one-eyed dragon paused, tipping his head to one side.  “Wha’s got yer head all a mess?”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

(This post was last modified: Mar 16, 2016, 04:58 PM by Kjors. Edit Reason: Tag bork. )

"Nova," She answered simply to his demand for a name. That was it. She was no longer a Zamora, wasn't confident she was an Aquila, but had no right to claim herself a Tainn. She was just a nothing. She breathed a small sigh of relief once she found she hadn't intruded and figured he wouldn't be chasing her off.

"I wasn't intending to do anything with them, sir." she admitted. "Just wanted to see where they were going." She offered in explanation. Was that so odd? That any other time she would crush the bleating life from their throats but currently she meant them no harm?

His question was one she herself wasn't confident of the answer. Much of the time she felt alone, but she didn't care for the company of her packmates, and her daughter no longer depended on her like she once had, too busy spreading her fledgling wings.

There was a distance between her and her pack, and whether it was the disappearance of so many members, or something else, she didn't know. In a way it didn't surprise her. Every home shed ever had had fallen apart. The mountain had cast her from her birthplace, violence had torn apart the Keep, she'd turned her back on Secret Woodlands for a mate who ended up leaving her not once but twice, the Fen was left behind for little Nalda's sake, and now her heart could barely bare the Timbers, the house that had never truly been a home. Perhaps she was not meant to have a home, cursed as she was with a nomad's heart.

"I'm not really sure... I think, maybe I don't belong, anywhere." She answered slowly, as if tasting the words for the first time as they crossed her tongue.

She introduced herself, and the male puffed his cheeks, briefly wondering if he should be honest with his own calling. He had no way of knowing whether Nova was actually the name she went by, but – well, if she were to report back to her Queen, how many one-eyed dragons inhabited the wood, anyways.

“Kjors,” he sighed in response, uninterested in her intentions towards the herd of deer. The group had taken advantage of the distraction the older wolf had posed, disappearing further into the fjord without looking back. If she really tried, the homely female might have found them again – but what was the point of wasting one’s energy for no gain? She was only running, he noted dryly.

Perhaps she faced a similar internal debate.

“Wha’ makes y’think a wolf is supposed t’ belong t’ a place?” he asked, brows furrowing. “A wolf’s a wolf, no matter where he is. Belongs t’ himself. T’ himself, an’ th’ All Mother.” His tail twitched behind him as he looked her over, wondering if that meant anything to the woman at all. “Y’can give yerself over t’ any number a’ things, but.” A shrug. “Tha’s a choice. Ultimately, y’only answer t’ yerself, an’ t’ th’ Mother when yer done.”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Nova suddenly felt very small, like a child who still had many things to learn. The concept of belonging to herself was nearly inconceivable to her. She shifted on her large paws, a bit unnerved. She needed somebody, something, someplace to form her own identity around. As if without an anchor she would simply float away into the ether, unable to exist as her own being.

But then he said something else. Had she heard him right?  With his thick accent it was hard to tell. A mother? Her thoughts momentarily drifted to Naira, bringing with it a sense of dread as she realized she had no idea where the woman currently was, she couldn't have tracked her down if she tried.

But Nova listened close, and as the one eyed man continued it became clear he was not speaking of her mother, or his mother, but the Mother. With his rugged appearance, Kjors looked like he had been places, seen things, and certainly spoke as if he knew something. He had answers that she craved like a parched throat thirsted for water.

"Who is Mother?" She quietly voiced the question, her wide brow lifted and batty ears leaned forward in curiosity and a tinge of worry. She almost hadn't wanted to ask at the risk of outing herself as uninformed, but she had to know. This was apparently someone she belonged to, somehow, and she had no idea who they even were.

If Kjors was speaking of his mother, the words would not have been so reverent, nor would they be even remotely kind. Fortunately, the thought did not occur to him, and when the woman looked at him with honest curiosity, he found himself willing to speak. He was not a prophet, not like his princess, but his father had taught him well before the man had passed. Even now, the wolf put his faith in the Mother, in his dragon, and he hummed softly, wondering where to start.

“The Mother,” he emphasized, trying to catch Nova’s eye. “All-Mother. Some call Her ‘Mother Nature’, mhm? Same. She is Mother a’ errything. Bugs. Birds. Deer, moose, squirrel, coyote, badger. All a’ it. But see, She is a wolf herself – the first wolf. The Mother a’ Wolves, yeah? An’ so we live as wolves. Tha’s wha’ th’ Mother seeks for Her children – t’ live as wolves, an’ naw cause unneeded destruction to Her other children ‘lest they need punished. Huntin’ a deer t’ eat? Tha’s okay. Huntin’ a deer fer sport an’ leavin’ a dead animal t’ rot? Tha’s not okay, y’see? ‘Cos th’ deer ain’t Her favorite child, bu’ it’s still Her child, an’ y’don’t waste it.”

The wasteful would be punished, he thought darkly to himself, but that was not something he needed to impress upon Nova. Even if she had been tracking the deer out of curiosity, she had already admitted she had no interest in taking one down. “So when we go, we answer t’ Her, in th’ end. Were y’a good wolf? Didja take care a yers an’ live as nature dictates? Or didja waste yer life bein’ somethin’ else, or didja waste others lives for no purpose? Tha’s all She wants t’ know.” A pause. “Ah’m – not a priest, fer th’ record. Ah’m doin’ me best here.”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Nova listened intently as the man explained, nearly holding her breath. The moment he said 'mother nature', she intrinsically knew of what he was speaking. She'd seen it, felt it, the life that pulsed through the land, ebbing and flowing with the days and seasons, just as the sun and moon came and went. Stronger in some places and some moments than others, but ever present none the less. She'd seen it in the shining face of the moon, felt it in the raw power that rumbled up her paws besides the falls, heard it in the calm of whispering leaves and singing birdsong, scented it in the first blossoms of spring. She'd always known there was more to this world than what could be seen, but never before did she have a name for it. Mother.

"I didn't know-" It? She, of course it would be a she. What did men do but disappear or die? A woman was a constant. "-she had a name. I've seen her, felt her... Sometimes I think I'm the only one who notices." Her long limbs shifted beneath her. "You know so much for someone who's not a priest." She said with some awe.