BUT WE'RE YOUNG

OPEN FLOWERS IN THE WINDY FIELDS
OF THIS WAR TORN WORLD

Coniferous trees rose up tall and straight, silent sentinels of the morning, carefully keeping watch of every creature that scurried about amongst their roots. They paid special attention to a single entity that melted twixt their trunks, low branches stroking her back as she moved past and pine needles falling to stick in her silvery fur. She was a wolf, and deep in thought. Her beautiful, emerald eyes were turned inward as she relived her reunion with Moth, picturing the horror-stricken femme over and over, feeling again the fear she felt as Moth almost careened backwards over the edge of the crags. Her heart weighed heavily in her chest and a new sentiment washed over her, almost choking her with its severity. It was a feeling of shame and inadequacy, both angled towards the mangled skeleton of her father, who poor, invalid father whom she had been unable to save. After she had discovered his remains, the ghost of her late mother, Kiona, had all but stopped coming to her in dreams and visions, and Cvijet guessed that her mother was angry with her, angry for letting her father out of her sight. But how was she to know? The last time she had seen him, he had been nestled safely beside the body of a pregnant Niviaq, happy and fulfilled. How was she to sense the impending demise that threatened all the wolves of Moladion? It was only thanks to her nomadic lifestyle that she had survived at all. But there was embarrassment for her even in that for, had she too died, she would not have to live with the guilt of having been the last one standing.

Perhaps that burden was the reason she sought out the previous mates of Faol'an, sharing with them the news of his death, each time feeling responsibility and pain flicker afresh in her heart as the others collapsed inward with sorrow, no doubt blaming her for not being there. Her current goal was to find Niviaq, whom she had heard had yet discovered no replacement for her father, and tell her what had become of him. A sigh escaped her lips as she pictured the femme's reaction and her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. The river gurgled lazily somewhere to her left, trying its best to distract her from her self-deprecating thoughts, and she let her tail wave just once in gratitude. Her raven was still nowhere to be seen, tending to another clutch of chicks until they were ready to fly, and she felt strangely lonely without his constant presence, annoying as it oftentimes could be. She also had not eaten for awhile, and her ribs jutted out from beneath her flesh awkwardly, making her appear gaunt and ungainly. However, she still managed to retain her naïve beauty, her silver pelt gleaming brightly in the dappled sunlight, although she would not have believed another were they ever to tell her so.

Moving with her head low and her ears flat, she almost missed the faint howl that carried to her on the breeze. Startled, she halted to listen, flinging her pert head high and snuffing at the air, hoping to catch the scent of the summoner. He was too far away, however, and she had to content herself in gaining all the knowledge she could from his song. It wasn't much though, and she found her mind drifting back to the task at hand; to Niviaq. An idea came to her then, unbidden. Perhaps the stranger who called so welcomingly would know something of the small and friendly female? Perhaps he could share with Cvijet news of her last known whereabouts. Her hesitation lasted but a few moments before her mind was made up. She would go to this other wolf and ask him what he knew. Yes, that is what she would do. Feeling more hopeful, she broke into an easy lope, dodging the trees and leaping over bushes and rocks, moving towards the source of the song that still floated on the very edges of her hearing.

After a good while, she reached a break in the treeline where it breached the river. A stretch of long, wispy grass flowed before her, ending at the sandy shore of the Aplos. Feeling relived that her run was at an end (for the morning had grown quite warm as it is want to do in Spring), she broke the cover of the trees and headed upriver, towards the reclining figure of a wolf that rested in the shadows. As she drew nearer to the stranger, she took in his size and musculature, noting the ebony colour of his pelt and the finely-etched face which, by many accounts, would be described as handsome. It was not the sight of him, though, that drew her on. It was the sight of the fat, slippery fish that floundered beneath his outstretched paw. Licking her lips, she ceased her noisy panting and halted in the shadows a few feet from him, eyeing him warily, waiting for a reaction from him. When none came, she offered an explanation, her enchanting lyricals mixing easily with the constant singing of the river, “Greetings, stranger. I am sorry to bother you while you eat,” here she eyed the fish again, all but drooling, “But, alas, I have little choice. I am seeking somebody, a stepmother of mine. Perhaps you know her? Her name is Niviaq.” Had she been more aware of her good looks, Cvijet may have used them to get what she wanted from the warrior; namely the creature he was about to feast on. However, she had been well brought up and was too proud to ask for a bite of his catch. Instead, she struggled to keep her desire out of her eyes and focus on the task at hand.

---

age. 13
daughter of. fao'lan
mate. none
pack. none
mother to. none
credit. x