Misty Mountain is opposite of Rainbow Cliff. Mists hover year-round at this high altitude, mistaken by some to be thin clouds. Thin layers of snow cover the mountain, making some areas slippery and hazardous.
Some think it romantic, a place to bring their mates, while others come to play and romp. However, all must agree that there is some level of mystery and spookiness hovering about with the mists...
IP: 76.243.46.249
Posted on April 25, 2013 at 07:15:28 PM by l o s a
 | |
She leaned into his caress, nibbling affectionately at one of his ears while his tongue parted the soft streak of white fur spilled up her neck. The joy that had threatened to ignite her whole soul simmered into a gentle heat, warming Losa from the inside out. It erased the numbing sensation of melting snow beneath her paws. It drove away the frosty mountain wind flowing up from the foothills. This felt so right. Hurricane was the first and only wolf she had felt close to since the savage murder of her pack. She trusted him as easily as drawing breath. He held a certainty on those broad shoulders; quiet strength radiated from every rugged angle; brave lightning eyes cherished her like the world’s greatest treasure. The only thing that comforted Losa more than knowing her would unflinchingly protect her was that he had faith in her ability to protect herself—the dark wolfess wasn’t breakable to him, not something to hide away and watch over like a child but someone to admire. That made Losa believe she could do anything, as long as she had Hurricane to call her own. “It’s good to see you again, Handsome. What has it been—ten years?” The lithe vixen winked teasingly, although her elegantly carved features portrayed nothing but happiness at beholding his face. There was no bitterness, no accusations. He had fulfilled his promise, after all. “You know how to keep a girl on her toes, Hurricane.” Losa dashed another quick kiss across his chiseled cheekbone and flitted away, fluffy tail curled like a question mark behind her. She suddenly appeared anxious . . . what would he think of the cave she’d chosen? Would he approve? Or would it just fill his noble heart with guilt, knowing that Losa had waited here long enough to claim a home? A nervous grin pulled at the corner of her velvet maw as she tried to erase the uncertainty flickering behind her mismatched irises. You’re just being paranoid—a few months without him and all of a sudden you’re a foolish puppy again. It was true: missing Hurricane’s watchful gaze and gravelly voice had mentally reduced Losa into a shy maiden trying to win the approval of her crush. Gods, she wanted to impress him so badly! Look, my love, I found a home all by myself! Isn’t that awesome?! “I . . . I have something to show you!” the sleek sprite yipped a little too brightly. Losa bounded back to Hurricane and tugged playfully at his scruff, leading him in the direction of the cave. Words crowded frantically behind her lips and it took every ounce of self-discipline she possessed not to vomit them all out at once. “This way . . .” Thankfully, the path around the back of the den wasn’t nearly as convoluted as approaching it head-on; soon the pair was perched just above the almost-invisible fissure. Losa led the way down, dainty paws tracing the line to the entrance with the surety of a dancer. She rubbed her chocolate flank against the doorway out of pure habit—giggling stupidly in embarrassment when she realized how unnecessary that was—and made her way to the back of the cave. Inside, the warmth of winter retreated, leaving behind a comfortable, dry warmth that had sheltered Losa against many a wrathful blizzard. She gestured awkwardly at the smooth stone walls. “Well, here we are. Home base. You wouldn’t believe how hard rogues try to find this place!” Another ninny-laugh burst from her muzzle—and Losa inwardly cursed herself. Idiot! Don’t worry him! Losa coughed and sat, draping her tail over her forepaws to hide the way they shuffled, mortified. Her leaf-and-sunlight pools wandered the floor . . . and then cautiously rose up to meet Hurricane’s electric stare, a thrill stabbing straight through her heart the instant she made eye contact. How many times had she dreamed of those eyes, curled alone in this very spot? When Losa spoke again, her alto voice was soft and wary, carrying infinite volumes of compassion and support. Hurricane had left her to deal with family matters. She wanted to know if he was still . . . okay. “So. Did you take care of . . . things?” | |
Replies:
There have been no replies.
Post a reply:
<--
-->