Once this place used to hold the yin and yang scenery of Blossom Field. Now, there are miles of winding tundra. To the north, this tundra is cruel and dry, with wisping weaves of tall grasses. The ground is cracked and cold, and it hardly is ever moistened by dearly desired rainfall. To the south, the tundra becomes more prosperous - meadows of flowers and herbs grace the ground. Part of this connects near Elebeam Weargtreow - however it is an impassible field of poppy, which will put any wolf trying to cross it into a deep slumber, and eventually die.

Those looking to hunt here will find mice, snakes, and rabbits, along with pronghorns, bison, and javalinas.


. N U M B .


I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleamings of an empty heart.

A slight flinch shivers through her body when the laughter pours from the creature; not expecting such a noise in the quiet landscape. She stands up to her full length, audits pointed towards him speaking. ‘Hello to you, fellow wanderer. What brings you to approach a wolf so unlike yourself?’ Celeste allows a smile to grace her maw, feeling rather friendly, which is quite out of character for the snowy ‘ess. Back legs bend down, putting her into a straight-backed sitting position. No creaky back for this little miss. Once again, her voice floats into the air, much like a gentle breeze through grass. “I am simply trying to find stories that may be worthy of,” this pause is accompanied by a small sigh, mulling over her vocabulary, trying to pick the best word, “pursuit, and a creature as odd as I’ve seen in quite some time must have an interesting one to tell. So, pray tell, do you?” The words were accompanied by a slight air of curiosity, and a tilt of the head to one side - the right, if it means much to you.

The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb,
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come.

She noticed the flash of his ivories as he smiled, the effect of the shine of them against the moon’s pale light was magnificent. Definitely something to remember, maybe even to incorporate into her future stories. ‘My name is Horizon, if you care to know,’ the words come as a bit of a surprise, as she had lost herself in a story about his canines. Her ears twitched back, as though blown on by a gust of air, betraying her surprise. “Horizon like the sky meeting the land? A poetic name, rolls off the tongue well.” The words slipped out of her mouth easily, ending with a series of small nods, seemingly approving her own thoughts. Celeste watched as he walked towards her, mildly shocked at the grace of a being as tall as he. A cocky smile pulled the edges of her lips back, gaining an almost arrogant attitude, “how does one as tall, and gangly, as yourself move with such grace, hm?” Hopefully the much taller one would not take it seriously, as that would not be in the best interest of the normally inactive ‘ess. Celeste notices his mismatched orbs, taking in yet another detail for a story of a strange wolf, making the hairs on her back tingle with excitement.

Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted
By tardy winter's whistling chill,
A single leaf which has outlasted
Its season will be trembling still.

"Talking." Observing. 'Listening.'
Poem by Alexander Pushkin


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