 Perhaps it is the loneliness of the male's spirit that calls to some base level within her and unbeknownst to either of them fate was inexorably drawing them together. But most likely it was sheer happenstance that she was out roaming the freelands in search of completing her task (which really wasn't so coincidental really) and Sawyer just happened to be in the same vicinity as her. Normally Aithne was not an overly social type. It wasn't that she disliked company - or most - but her life up until her recent entrance to Moladion had been a rather squalid one filled. A life of survival, starvation, and fighting all for the sake of a pack that couldn't quite come to terms that life was ending in that section of the world. The earth was like that. Hundreds of thousands of years of seasonal shifts that gradually turned different portions of the world into desolate wastelands and revitalized another. Staying there meant almost certain death despite breeding like rabbits during lean times. No matter what drew her towards the fields during the night she quite enjoyed the view. The stars twinkled with a brightness unparalleled in the world and for a time she simply stood surrounded by meadows and stared into the night sky. Her mind seemed to drift from her body into the etherworld. She felt almost as if she was connected with everything and nothing; teethered to a body that was ephemeral. It was such an odd sensation. Aithne was practical, strong, and unperturbed in life so for her to be drawn into such preternatural pursuits was uncommon. After a time she comes back to herself with a gradual groan of her body. For the past week she has dug and dug and constructed a better den for herself in the wastes of Iromar. It had left her exhausted and filthy and she hadn't returned home yet since bathing in the river and setting off to see about recruiting for Andras. At least it gave her an excuse to hunt something other than water fowl and fish. The sun began to edge over the horizon as she traipsed along, her pace as slow and languid as a sated cat. A morning breeze welcomes her and offers up the taint of blood and of wolf. She angles her body in the direction it comes from but does not lengthen her pace. If he had been lazing in the tall grass she might have stumbled across his obsidian body but instead she spots him and comes to a standstill close by with a shuttered expression. His smirk immediately makes her doubt him - simply because she had already had her fill of egotistical males. And their blood. "Good morning..." Her deep emerald green eyes, with one eye having a red ring around the pupil, flick down to his meal and back to him. His scent is as fresh and untried as her own had been; now the smell of marsh clings to her fur. Aithne is no dainty female; her body is much larger and broader than Sawyers. The way his maw tapers is lovely but her own is broad with fangs and strength to snap bones and sever tendons. She is not lean like some females either, rather packed with muscle and almost to the point of being broad - yet it adds a certain allure to her. Aithne sits abruptly with a small smile curling her lips. "Catch you in a meal, did I?" She cocks her head now. "You are a stranger to these lands, are you not?" A I T H N E Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing; bow down to the mighty _______________________ |