Silence is broken, just like that. Voices, smells, the sound of feet against earth and body against snow. Still, I remain completely still, slowing my breathing and staring ahead into the abyss of white. Their scents are entirely foreign to me, and their words are strange. I don't know them. They are large, looming, dark like shadows. Too near, too close, too surrounded. Others are dangerous, others like that. All I know to do is to feign death, a talent I was born with. I stifle my breath, allowing my body to relax and contour to the earth. I stare, endlessly, unwavering, even when the others stare down at me. I do not like this.
I wait, forever waiting but there is another, dark and shadow. She moves, her scent consuming the area like the cloak of night. Still, I merely watch her from my peripherals. Inside, they tell me danger; not safe, wrong, too many to fight off when I am so weak. My only choice will be to run, and to hide. If only I were strong like Zeteri, or like Sen or Cozscotl. I do not belong in Taviora but... I need to.
Despite it all, she comes to us. To me, to them. She is not so large, not like them, so she will be fast. She will catch me if I run. For a moment, when they are distracted, I shift my gaze to her and inhale her sharp scent - Iromar. I can smell Andras, Lillith and even my family in her pelt. Marshes, mud, alligator flesh... it's all there. When she speaks, I make my move, taking that moment of distraction to rise on my paws. I exhale sharply, a rasping sound that rattles through my teeth. Posture should always be kept low though, head down and body itching.
"Do not... know you."
It is all I say, final proof that I am alive though such a thing is always debatable. My breath curls in the cold, the glaze of my eyes shifting between each of the trio hesitantly. I am not used to so many around me. They are close, and yet I cannot step back. Iromar taught me it. If I step back, then I show weakness. I've already done so by speaking. Instead, I try to seem... strong. I bristle, the ragged fur over my body making a dire effort make me appear larger; I flatten my ears back somewhat, one twisting forward just for good measure.
"Not like us. Not from here."
I speak this to the strangers, to the creatures of black that linger too close. The other is just as such but she is of Iromar, of my home land. That is familiar. These others are too much change, too fast. Strange words, strange smells. They make my skin crawl, and my teeth bite down hard on the cold air. Still, I stand as a statue.
wraith
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