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I can feel the way the world is changing, how my body is changing, how my mind is slipping as if a fish from between a toothless wolf’s maw. It is a slippery slope, this winter oppression in my soul. I cannot begin to explain the phenomenon, even as it happens in my own body, mind, spirit.
I am walking gingerly over the frost covered leaves of Enocra, a place I once danced for joy amongst two similar souls. I wonder idly if Samhain is still here, still dancing with his now frosted leaves and crisp flowing winter wind coming to take away the brilliant reds and golds and lingering greens of the trees. I wonder if Natu and her mate have chosen a new den, are snuggled amongst their children of last year. I wonder where Quixote and Coquette have come to rest… and then suddenly, I don’t wonder anything at all.
The world grows far away…
~*~
She is a little gray and tan and white wolf in a world of browns and silvers, the canopy above her revealing a sky not unlike her color as the first of winter comes peaking around the corner. She has no home, no shelter, no den, no place to curl up against the coming onslaught of snow and ice and cold. Her body trembles for a moment, and then she darts forward, pupils strange to anyone who might have known her and seen them. Still the ever vibrant blues and greens, the black hole at the center seems to engulf those colors to ribbons encircling it.
She winds, criss crosses her own paths, her nose ever to the ground (which is not hard, considering how near to it she is already).
She is virtually lost to this new state of being, the mental detachment of self and yet envelopment by inner instinct. She tracks what might have seemed like nothing short of randomness until she found herself face to face with a stranger and her ears push full front and hackles jump to attention. She is nervous, as represented by a side-flatten her ears perform before pricking forward again. Her stance is broad and her strange eyes fixate with a drop of her head in discomfort at being discovered unprepared and not knowing whether to flee or fight.
the little lass of nowhere
female | 4 years | 23 inches | 63 pounds | no mate | no imprint
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