Snow carefully danced from a gray canvas, crystals of ice gleaming in a world of cold. Evergreens dotted the landscape with fingers dappled with sugar. Winds gracefully pulled and twirled with the everlasting silence, taunting to an eager eye. Winter, like all other seasons, had the ability to crop magic as well as create destruction. But the snow that blanketed the world was playful as well as soft; even a small breath of wind could stir the glitter lightly packed on the ground. Again, it always depended on the eye that gazed on the land to determine whether or not the cold was worth it. Winter thinned out the land and prepared nature for a spring filled with young and sunlight and mountain flowers, as it was necessary to strip the earth of its produce and start anew. It is in the face of death where one can find the face of life.
Tall black stilts stood out against a white backdrop of snow. However, ink faded into a pastel white on a thin and lean bodice. Attentively, the white vixen traced her steps lightly in the snow, still trying to memorize the trails covered with the frozen water. Her pale, blue orbs failed to witness anything but an overshadowed darkness, black making up her life since she was a pup. The girl, Mink, had no idea what had caused her eyesight to fail, but in a way, it had been a blessing. With the absence of sight, her other senses had strengthened. Hearing, for example, had almost doubled since her birth. This was her sense that she operated on, maneuvered with. In fact, it was her hearing that turned her around to head into a different direction. Indeed it was Ameira, her Queen. She had accepted the young female not just days ago, and they had gone on a small walk and discussed thoughts and cognitions. She had found that her alphess was quite intelligent. Indeed she had made the right choice coming here.
Andere, where her home had been before, was ruined. Quaked by movement of the earth, land split apart, landslides tore away at the vegetation and left the land uninhabitable. It was strange how she had gotten out without a mark on her pelt, as the chaos that had ensued made it difficult for her to find her way. Munashii, however bright and lively when wolves were asleep, had been organic with evergreen trees. The smell had stung the back of her throat, but with every passing day it became weaker and weaker, and the home the vixen had picked seemed to fit her like a glove. Perhaps this band of misfits would identify with her more; maybe this group of people would strive to become something more than a land filled with individuals.
Mink had to move through the thorns to get to the hill. They clawed at her thick pelt with an angry angst. They were unfamiliar with her, as she was with them. But she paced up the hill in a hurry, already hearing the small sound of voices. The scent of Ameira hit her first, as it was the only one she recognized. Tasting the air, she could make out three other wolves. “Ameira, lovely to see you once more.” She could tell she was late by the lack of chatter, as if she had interrupted something. The fae moved herself to what seemed like an open spot, positioned wherever around the other wolves in the pack meeting. Her petite form sat quietly in the snow, listening to what was going on and waiting for direction to continue forward.
.: Thunderfoot :. |