Umbra Copse no one knows where the lone wolf sleeps

For @Skoll || Sunset, Cloudy, 17°F (-8°C) ||

She placed a small kiss on Cyril's crown and ushered him to stay near to Cheedo. They would be fine without her for just a few hours. Piety still had enough wits about her to not be stumbling through the darkness on her own. Not to mention she couldn't leave the duo behind. Both of them had been more supportive of her than they likely knew. It was with a thin frown she reminded herself that this wasn't a trip of pleasure. Piety did her best to block out the memory of Wraith's final moments. Even if their son was a hard reminder of his father.

With a heavy sigh, she settled on her rear, back against one of the many trees in this area. The tattered dove just needed a silent moment but not the grieving silence. She wanted a silent moment to herself. She needed to compose herself for another day of being strong.

# C W T

Since his little row with Niles, Skoll was determined to set his schedule back on track. Awake at dusk, asleep by morning; the daytime patrolling would be for the average pack wolf, leaving the night watch left for him and the unfortunate ones who found it hard to sleep. When he arose from his resting place - some unimpressive, wolf-sized crater in the snow in-between two tall aspens - the sky was still alight with the sun's last rays. He squinted, stumbling about until he found a decent place to relieve himself; it was far too light out still to function but he was determined to manage. Morganna was keeping an eye on him, making sure he ate and operated physically like any regular wolf would, though the healing process was still slow and there were days where he still would not eat, making his movements shaky and keeping his face much too gaunt.

He let out his own sigh several meters away, his breath laced with a shiver. His winter coat might have grown in fully by now but it laid flat against the whole of his body and stuck up at all angles where he could not reach behind his neck and some places along his spine. He looked out in the gathering dark, scanning his surroundings to make sure that no one saw him leave. His senses were sharpening again and he was confident could find his way back to his sister in the night.

His steps were haphazard, teetering one way some of the time before straightening and going the opposite direction. Like Niles, who grieved his late partner, Skoll, too, lamented the loss of his mother and the good teacher and father figure that Angier had been. Perhaps if he had not been so difficult, so wayward and unruly, he might have spent less time clashing with them and more time appreciating them. The more he thought about it all, however, he found that it was stupid to regret something that had not happened at all. It was energy wasted and he presently needed what energy he had stored up during the day.

It was only when he dipped his muzzle downward and found his paws in-between someone else's tracks did he realize that he was not alone. As some sort of precaution, to gauge the rogue's proximity, he let out a quiet bark... It wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but there was something within the Archer that still loved to flirt with danger.

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

sorry for the wait :c

It was a soft bark with notes of familiarity that stirred her far too tired mind. "Hello?" She called out softly, wondering if it might be Morganna. Perhaps the peach-eyed Archer was looking for a chance to play or simply wanted to stir Piety up a bit. The tattered dove stood up weakly, brown eyes peering into the darkness with the thicket of trees hiding whoever may be out there for her. "Not tonight, Morg." A small smile threatening to break her features. She would welcome the company but a game of cat and mouse was not on her menu.

Piety leaned into the tree, waiting. Unknowingly she was being a sitting duck for a different familiar creature. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Surely there'd be close contact soon enough. A nip at her missing ear or teeth raking through the thick fur around her neck.

"3...2...1.."

# C W T

"Hello?" his call was answered with a softer one. His molars clamped down against one another but he ultimately chattered as he unlocked his jaws. He would have damned himself to the worlds beneath if he ever forgot that voice - which was even more familiar as she verbally laid down something that was like a boundary: "Not tonight, Morg."

A breath released from him in a wisp that fled from his lips. Could it be? He tucked his chin to his neck as he shut his eyes and tried to center himself, just as his sons and daughters had done when they were instructed to settle down and manifest energy from deep within. A part of him was still certain that the hellebore was playing trucks on his mind, but he was so sure that the voice had been real.

He lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes again as he followed Piety's tracks further into the Copse. There was quite possibly no danger here now. Even if his past lover had changed for the better, had grown stronger in his absence, Skoll found that he was not afraid. If he really thought about it, he might as well have been suffering through Hell without her; because she had left, he had gone from lover to lover until he found himself between three sirens who wanted him for nothing but their selfish needs. If he could survive Anahera, Vesna, and Eremiel, he could survive Piety. Or so he hoped.

Careful steps brought him into her midst. In the gathering dark, she was easy to spot. His breath caught in his chest. She was just as he remembered her, even in dreams when he was rendered lethargic and out of his mind. Propped against a tree, she waited for him - or, rather, for Morganna. She was in for a surprise.

"Hello, little dove," he murmured as he drew into her line of sight, oblivious to the previous nickname she had used within Grizzly Hollow. His voice was gravelly, still sluggish with sleep. The way he saw it, she had always been his dove, just as Hecate had been his kestrel. Why birds, he had not really known, but he suspected that it was because he considered himself as a raven or a black vulture, eager to pick up whatever is leftover and wait for the next dead body to land at his feet.

There was no ill will in his tone, no hostility or dominating sort of jealousy that once laced his words whenever he had spoken to her before. Now, there was only curiosity and surprise, "I thought I would never see you again."

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away