Lost Lake The Way is Winding

Water. Imperative to the survival of any creature. But so hard to find in a place such as this - a jagged peak with a heart as merciless as any killer's. Surely many had found their deaths on its trails; few were strong enough to survive. It was unlikely Asta had thought of the mountain in such a light when she began climbing, however. She saw somewhere she had never been, heard the calls of someone she heard never met, and she wanted to go there. So she did - her mind was made up, and she would make her way up the mountain. The way was not easy. But that never deterred the small she-wolf.

Tucked into the mountains, the azure water was a blessing to any who were able to find it and reach it. And Asta, by fortune or skill, had managed to sneak a glimpse of the sparkling mountain oasis in the fading sunlight. It was both curiousity and necessity that drove her to find a way to the water's edge now, for she was thirsty and had been on the mountain for more than a day. Her breath was a misty veil around her muzzle as she chuffed softly, her yellow eyes scanning the sudden drop to the lake warily. She could not see a way down. But, her mind told her, there must be a way! So she paced slowly along that drop, eyeing the ridge uneasily and the water with more desire than she had felt for water in a long while.

If she had wanted, Asta could surely turn back and find water elsewhere before she became too dehydrated. But this seemingly unobtainable water was far too tempting; Asta would not fold so easily. There was a momentary pause in her pacing as the she-wolf latched her eyes onto something else - a small ledge. Was it the beginnings of a way down? She approached it slowly to peer down, her head tilting just slightly as she observed. If that was a path, it was the steepest she had ever seen. It would be dangerous. One misstep could be fatal. In the case of a lone wolf like Asta, it would be. She would never survive on her own if she were injured. She couldn't help herself at that moment: a low whining stole its way from her dark lips. She'd have to gather her courage before she could do anything.

Oh if Cohen were here! He wouldn't be afraid. He'd know what to do... With her ears splayed in dismay, Asta seated herself a few feet from the ledge and considered. Was there another - better - way down she did not see? The cliff was steep, but it couldn't be impossible.

(This post was last modified: Apr 03, 2013, 03:23 AM by Asta.)

The burly male traveled in his usual silence, content with his solitary patrol. He had been a pack wolf for some time now and yet, he hardly noticed the difference. He never slept in or even near the den with the others and he only interacted with them when Athena called for it. This odd fact did not bother him in the least. The white queen was the only wolf that truly held any sway over the black and white male and if he thought on it too hard that fact did bother him, because he couldn't give a solid reason as to why she did. The closest he could come was that she saw some value in him where others merely saw an irritable snarling stranger to be avoided. But he had been raised by a cruel mother that had beat her lessons into him well and deep. Trust no one. Depend on no one. These lessons had been driven home brutally when she deserted he and his tiny timid sister at barely a year old. He hadn't seen her or his sister for years.

Then Jade had magically appeared and a flicker of light shown in his cold heart. Yet, she too was gone with no explanation and his mother's teachings had burned even deeper into his heart. Even the love of his delicate sister could not be counted on. He wondered briefly what had happened to her and then growled at himself for the errant thought, blue eyes dark and stormy. He edged his way away from the borders, suddenly wishing even less to run into one of his pack mates in his foul mood. His muscles bunched as he leaped higher on the rugged terrain that he had come to love in his own way. It was rough and unforgiving and tolerated no weakness. It was a perfect mirror to his own tattered soul. He had been damaged from the beginning, but it had made him a survivor if nothing else.

Pebbles, dirt and a few small rocks gave way under his bulk as he made his way to the top of the rise. His movements were the epitome of strength and power as he progressed, but lacked any of the grace that his sister had possessed. Whether her disappearance had been of her own volition, he doubted that the mountains would have accepted such a delicate thing as her in any case. He shook his head and growled to himself again for once again thinking of Jade as he topped the last rise. Taking a step forward, he froze, suddenly aware that he was not alone. Before him, seeming to teeter on a ledge overlooking the lake was a small grey and white fae. Without thought, his hackles rose and a snarl let loose from his maw, long fangs gleaming. She was not trespassing at the moment, but well, she was here. All he had wanted was solitude and he couldn't even find it in the middle of nowhere!

(Sorry he's such a butt!)

Her life seemed so empty without her brother. They had both been young - too young she thought - when their parents were lost and the pack split. Asta managed to get by, but being alone was hard on her mentally and emotionally. But enough brooding - she had little enough time for it right now; the shadows were stretching and deepening and, while her night vision was excellent, she would rather navigate the cliffside in the daylight that remained. Asta leapt back to her paws and began to pace again. She only stopped when she heard a scrabbling coming from behind. She thought she heard the scraping of claws on stone, and a growl - she assumed from exertion. Nevertheless, a chill ran up the young she-wolf's spine, leaving her with hackles raised. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Asta turned.

It was a trick of the light, perhaps, that first caused the young she-wolf to gasp. It wasn't that he was larger than her - she'd never really met a wolf her size or smaller so no surprise there - but the color of his pelt. Those colors - just at a glance - she thought maybe her brother had found her again. Her heart soared and shattered all at once. No sooner had her mind played its cruel trick, then she realized this wolf was not like her brother - he was different. Bigger - the colors a shade darker in places. And his face! He seemed angry, his thoughts shadowed. Cohen never looked that angry. If Asta thought he looked angry before, well that was before his head swung around and his eyes locked on Asta. The aggressive snarl was enough to cause her gut to clench fearfully.

Asta's heart was already pounding too fast. She flinched, her ears backing and head lowering in fear. She took the smallest step back - the ledge nearby almost forgotten for the moment. It was all the she-wolf could do to keep from fleeing right away. She tried to believe there was still enough distance between herself and this stranger, a stranger whose first appearance had addled her mind for just a few moments.

What should she do? she wondered. Had she crossed a border somewhere? Was he a loner with a den nearby? She tried to control her trembling as she lifted her head just a little higher. She tried to be brave - surely it was what her brother would have done - and parted her lips to speak: "I- I don't think I have done anything- I mean, have I done something wrong?" Fear made her words come out faster and shakier than she wanted them to be. She had nearly apologized, but then had realized: why should she? She was fairly certain she hadn't done anything "against the rules". Then again... she had to ask, just in case. She wasn't an idiot. If she'd found pack borders she wouldn't have crossed them so foolishly. "My name is Asta." She offered her name in case it might help ease the tension. It was a civil thing to do, right? Then again, what did civility matter on a mountain with a heart of ice?