Hush Meadow we would stand in the wind,

The meadow was a somber place—somber but beautiful. The wind whistled through the golden strands of browning grass in lonely, mournful tunes, and the lazy morning sunlight lanced in filtered bars through the fields—particles of dust falling and rising gently in the sunshine like stars. It was as if he were the only living being in the world, the only beating heart, the only breaths breathed, the only soul. This flat landscape was foreign and strange to Rhoderyc, who was a child of the mountains, bred and grown in the wild expanses of hostile peaks and cliffs, blizzards and ice. He had seen mountains in the distance here, and he intended to visit them. But not now, it would be too soon--the memories too fresh and raw of a wound to risk reopening. He missed what he had left behind, and as those unusual eyes strayed to the distant hazy peaks, he wondered if they missed him too, or if they were glad he had finally left. The grass bushed his dark russet legs as he walked alone, because that is how it had always been as of late. There were no others in his life, no home, no friendships. No, none of that. Sacrifice was Rhoderyc’s life, sacrifice of all those things for the chance at a new life. The pain of living a lie was gone; nothing more than a memory (a vivid one, nonetheless) carefully hidden, but hardly forgotten, in the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind. It was like a dusty music box, the meadow was, perhaps lonely and forgotten, but still carrying a song so beautiful, so sweet, that he appreciated it. His heart went out to the vast, sprawling land of gold, to the sky that swept above in smeared sapphire hues, and to the lonely, hollowed sun that warmed his back in pale beams. The only sign of the silent, green-eyed wolf’s passing was a trail of pressed grass and the scent of mountains.

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2011, 07:37 AM by Rhoderyc.)

<blockquote><i>sorry to have taken me longer than i wanted.</i>

The den was becoming an enclosed trapment where she could easily be nudged in the muzzle, poked in the eye, or used as a pillow. When she was smaller those had been oddly comforting things to her. Now she was starting to feel tense in the dwelling, that seemed to be shrinking for the there remaining Lyalls. Her mother was sleeping outside the den more than in, and Lettie was thinking she had the right idea. She didn't quite like sleeping outside, however. She had tried it once, in a little dip she had managed to dig up with some pretty leaves. It had gotten cold, and when she awoke the ground was covered in cold silver. Her mother called it frost, and said that's what snow wold be like.

The white falling flakes once more worried the girl. They'd have to step on the cold stuff, it would surely cover everything, and she'd get lost....really lost. Soft whine curled in her throat, not understanding why it had to snow. Ears pressed to hear head, and she slunk with her head low, along a new pat she'd discovered leaving the hollow. With her she took her troubled thoughts of winter, sadness, and questions as to her who father was.

If anything she had to get away, there was no where to hide in the forest where someone would not find her. Being home only reminded her of who wasn't there, and the stranger she hardly knew, but was to accept as her father. Meekly, shoulders down, she seemed to creep slowly along the half-beaten path. A scrap of a tree branch, or rustle of a tree causing her to flinch, and stare wondering if someone was following her. She much wanted to accept the idea of dad, but she wasn't sure how. She paused, as if eyes were on her now and slowly looked behind her, gawking for a long time against the tall rows of trees. She saw no one, not even Trisden, and her ribs let out her pent up breath while she continued on her way.

It was a good part she followed this almost invisible trail to the meadow, where everything as open, bright, and well beautiful. Best of all it was quiet, and no one was here. So she thought, she could not smell the wolf, nor see him in the faded grasses. It was there she would let out a woof for the sake of hearing her voice, then she would nose at the edge of the meadow looking for something to take her thoughts off of home or at least <span class='word'>migate</span> them.</blockquote>

No worries! There's no rush. <3

He stopped. A peculiar sensation bristled the hair along his spine, and he knew that feeling all too well. He lifted his nose, breathing in the richness of the earth, tasting the frozen flavor of a windswept autumn as a sharp breeze ruffled his fur. The scent was faint—almost nonexistent, and just as he captured it, the tang of foreign-wolf was swept away just as quickly. He was left with nothing but the taste of wild wind on his tongue and a strong feeling of unease, wondering if he was delirious with exhaustion. Sadly, he knew that wasn't unlikely as it sounded But if there was anything young Rhoderyc had learned in his wayward travels, it was to trust in his instincts, to have faith in his natural abilities. It was all he had to rely on in this lonely world. And so he turned back, following his trail of pressed grass and moving through the tall stalks smooth as the wind that murmured around him, curiosity compelling him to stride forward. He heard it then, a gentle bark carried on the wind, and he knew he’d been right. White and slim-legged, the she-wolf nosed along the edge of the meadow where his trail had begun. Intrigued, Rhoderyc dropped all notions of blending in with his background and jogged towards her, trying to rid his pace of the limps that plagued his every step. “Hey,” he called, hoping she wouldn’t flee. He pulled up no more than a few paces away, quick to take in everything about her. Her face was smooth and pretty, full of life, good health, and youth. He was suddenly very aware of his own unkempt appearance, the way the wind could practically play a haunting solo rattling on his his ribs, and the severely weakened state of his body. He had once been a glorious creature, a wolf of the mountains, bright-eyed, wild, and athletic. But those days had long since passed. The life of a lone wolf had its consequences. He wondered sadly if he would last the winter, and knew it was unlikely. She was young, too, though it was difficult to say just how young. A hesitant moment of silence followed and Rhoderyc found himself unsure of what to say. He hadn’t spoken to another of his kind for a very long time. The wind swirled around them, stirring their fur and the frost-dry grass at their paws. “Were you following me?” he managed at last, sitting on his haunches, indicating he was hardly the macho-aggressive alpha material that swaggered around these days (but really, he sat because his legs quivered with exhaustion). He only wished to talk.

(This post was last modified: Nov 22, 2011, 12:23 AM by Rhoderyc.)

<blockquote>Black nostrils quivered, and her tail swayed level with her haunches. Clearly there was something around here, she was starting to think she was not alone. Could she be right? She snuffled at the tall grass, but was hit with an array of information, it was hard singling the one thing she thought meant wolf. Tips of her ears folded, and she snorted to clear her muddled thoughts. Briefly she tinkered with the familiar scents she remembered, and tried to compare them. This was no hollow wolf, but something of it reminded her of Raigo.

She stretched, leaning weight on her forepaws, then tripped into a walk trying to find a stronger source. She was blissfully unaware she was being watched or for a mere three seconds. The very light touch of paws against earth, and the weave of grass she jerked her head upward seeing an wolf with bright green eyes as it was the first to gauge her attention.

White brows raise, mouth hung open, and her hair slightly bristled at her shoulders. It was not because she wanted to challenge him, he had startled her causing an instinctive reaction of I'm not as little as I look.

He said hey, appearing to want to talk to her? She folded her lips inward, and an ear flattened on one side of her head, the other drawn to him. His coat was an array of colors, stunning in her eyes coming from a pack made of more white then most. Moonlight toned eyes stuided each different color on his hide, caught up in the unique pattern she did not notice the lack of meat his bones had. His heigth was the next thing to draw her attention, but she hesitated to speak like she often did.

First she thought her silence would have him drift away, he asked a simple question.

<b>"Um...maybe."</b> Her words were high femine tone, and did not hide her uncertainty. He did not appear a monster, but she had learned monsters hid very well sometimes. He sat down, and it helped ease her mind if only a smidge.

<b>"I..I don't know what..you smell like."</b> It had sounded much better in her head.</blockquote>