When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


Pierce the v e i l , And see my p a i n . {OPEN}


Ivory stilts carried the ghost sentry through the King’s Palace, Spring Grounds. He wasn’t aiming to stay within its limits but rather escape into a peaceful area where nothing could disturb the ghost. He wanted nothing more. A traitor had ripped into the pack and almost killed his pack-mate Collum. His mind was blank, but it ran at a million miles an hour. No thought was consistent enough for him to even contemplate let alone remember. The ivoro could think to escape, that was the only thought he had. I have to escape… His muscular legs carried him with structured stamina and a confidence only seen in a well versed wolf. His swift movements made him the ghost he truly was, and he disappeared silently across the border.

His figure colored to the sunset falling behind him, reddish orange hues making him look like a single flame burning through Blossom field, nothing like the fire that had ripped through it previously. Pierce glided into the forest on the other side disappearing yet again, the ghost flame gone. Darkness shrouded his white pelt making him grey in the underbrush. Pierce slowed up coming into a slow trot as he broke into the clearing. A small babbling creek was running through the area and Pierce dipped his crown to the creek lapping up the cooling water. He shivered as the cold water fell down his esophagus chilling his core. He looked down the creek seeing it disappear into the growing shadows. He smiled thoughtfully as he stepped into the creek and padded down it. He followed the winding creek slowly, his paws rising and falling slowly. The water droplets trickled gently down his forelegs and hind legs making him conscious of his slower paced walk.

Pierce’s audits pricked forward as the babbling creek turned into a rush of falling water. The ghost stepped out of the creek and followed it down step mossy steps. The forest opened up into a smaller clearing, revealing the falls, Staircase Falls.

A smile spread across the ivoro’s kissers and his amber eyes scanned the moonlit clearing. No shapes appeared to be near and he finished his decent into the clearing. Pierce walked to the pebbly shore and sat down. The water lapped at his toes, with his tail curled lightly around his paws. He had returned to his sentry position. He was at peace. His mind calmed, the lapping water drawing him out into the night. His senses searched, and his mind quieted, listening to the night creatures rise up like him.

"Optimism is fatal in my experience," He growls.

{Pierce} :: {Brute} :: {Adult} :: {Tied to None} :: {Beta of Spring Grounds} :: {Related to None}


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