the boundaries which divide life from death
are at best shadowy and vague.
who shall say where the one ends,
and where the other begins?


Hymeshe prowls through the wilderness, his massive form padding silently under the dense forest. The moon’s light hardly breaks through the thick canopy making the world beneath those trees dark and mysterious. His icy eyes stray to the west as he comes to a halt. Turning his body in that particular direction, he let’s the swampy scent waft into his nostrils. Narrowing his eyes, a sense of curiosity overwhelms as he quickly changes directions. The scents of other wolves linger in the forest, some old, some fresh but Hym ignores them, carefully avoiding the others in the perimeter.

Coming to a clearing, he tilts his head, inspecting the trees that have fallen into the murky waters, the light breeze rippling across the stagnant surface. Lowering his head to the water, he sniffs the stale water, inspecting the particles that float along the façade. Sneezing at the sour smell, Hym takes a step back and shake out his fluffy coat. His massive frame practically blended in with the night, his fur the deepest black they came, with the exception of the white flecks along his spine and tail, making it look like snow had just fallen and refused to melt into his coat.

Then, there was that white beacon, just below his throat, a white, thin oval shaped patch a fur on his chest. An unusual marking, yet it suited Hym quite well. Without that mark, he would look like any other black wolf in the world. Gazing across the swamp, he engulfs himself in the silence, enjoying it immensely; his journey had been quite obnoxious, listening to the other packs howl at the moon. Listening to the sorrowful songs of a pack that had just lost a member was quite irritating, or even the howls of the kill.

Spotting a rather odd, fallen tree, he padded closer, inspecting the dead log. Reaching out a large paw he pushed on it, detecting the sturdiness off the rotten wood. When it didn’t budge he leapt gracefully on top of it, the log creaking under his weight. Waiting a moment to see if he would fall through, he walked slowly forward as it bent out across the murky waters. The log itself was over four feet wide and easily maneuverable. Coming to a stop he plopped down, resting his head on his paws, his tail dangling over the edge as he watched the rippling swamp in silence.

hymeshe
lord of snow
{ 5 }{ male }{ 42” }{ 210lb }{ imprint }{ loner }{ girly<3 }

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