Ghastly Woods hanging yourself on someone else's words

@Taima
POST PROMPT: FEEL IT IN YOUR BONES
here's to hoping taima will put some poison in gent's ear regarding mapes, eh? let me know what day you want to backdate this to and i'll change it in my time line so that we're consistent.

Gent felt at ease amongst the lazy snowfall, his lope casual and without intention. He had decided to take the day off, a first for himself since the easy days of his travel into the Lore. Back then, he thought it had been rough trying to survive alone. Though he'd also found excitement in it, Gent would have scolded his spoiled past self if given the opportunity. Still, things weren't so bad, were they? If he was given moments like these to breathe. His meandering took him outside of the pack borders, but he did not venture too far. There was nothing to find, their searching tunnels crissed this way and that throughout the Ghastly Woods, but he wasn't looking at the earth. His glacial glaze had drifted upward, admiring the ice that adorned the skeletal branches above. Every now and then, he would unfurl his tongue and catch a few icy flakes. Perfectly at ease. A splash of something then hit the canvas, interrupting his traipsing by signal of a scent. Somewhere in close proximity was a pack mate, and as much as he was enjoying the tranquil solitude, he would not pass up an opportunity to socialize with those who he called allies. It was necessary for him to get to know each one, and he knew he had yet to interact personally with this heart. And so he sought her out, following his nose and ears and twisting through the gnarled trees and slinking over their knobby knees. Hopefully, she would be a colorful stain upon his scenic day, rather than a blotch of dull gray.

i'll seek you out, flay you alive

miss taima lyall

one more word and you won't survive

Since arriving to their new home, Taima had been left to her own devices, required to patrol and scent-mark wherever Mapplethorpe and Naira had left their tracks in the snow. Truth be told, it had irked her; her mentor and teacher had discarded her like some old dug-up hare, abandoned her just like Datura had. The lack of social interaction had left a bad taste in her mouth and the longer she and Mapplethorpe went without talking, the more she had begun to resent him and the lessons he had taught her. With no one as her keeper and no one to keep her company, the young Lyall was just beyond the newly marked borders, resting with her back against the trunk of a gnarled tree and looking as though she were waiting for someone in the distance before her.

Truth be told, she had started thinking of her family... of those she had left behind... and just how much she had changed since she had been swept away from her beloved Cedarwood Forest. In the silence of the trees and whispering of the snowfall, she found a sort of comfort that numbed her to the bone, making her long for nothing else other than her home alongside the banks of Jasper Rocks. The snow landed in her fur, perched atop her ear tips and rested on her shoulders, but she didn't care... She was much too engrossed in the world in her head, the world in which everything she saw in her mind's eye was familiar and absolutely perfect.

A puff of air came up from her parted lips when she thought of her mother, remembering just the right hues of gold and blue that made up her mismatched eyes and the pristine arctic white that made up her fur. Taima sniffled when her fellow pack mate, Hollowheart Keep's other yearling, had broken through the trees. She didn't even try to keep the disdain from the mask-like marking on her face when she turned to fully look him over. She addressed him just like she was taught... her words too mature, too terse on her year-old tongue, "If Mapplethorpe sent you, tell him I decline whatever request he has asked of me."

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