Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.
A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.
IP: 164.107.154.7
Posted on February 15, 2016 at 08:19:56 PM by Kahlan
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She was broken. Not even Kirastasia's amorous carresses could hide that from Kahlan. The ess had enough years on her, both in terms of life and in terms of years as a healer to know that her mind had been shattered, splintered in a thousand tiny crystalline pieces. She was not herself. She had become needy and obsessive. Never did she stray from Kira's side by her own choice - no, it would be Kira who would suggest that Kahlan go get some air, or alternatively Kahlan would wake up to find Kira gone. Perhaps it was only so that she could relieve herself or to find a meal, but Kahlan found herself counting the minutes, the seconds even, until the brindled princess returned to her. Kahlan could no longer function on her own - she needed someone else to define her, to tell her who she was supposed to be. She had become a full on submissive, a wolf who was nothing but a moldable shell that shifted until it fit whatever expectations were set for her. Sure, Harold self remained, but it was locked away, somewhere deep inside of her so that it wouldn't be hurt again. So that she could be happy without the pain of heartbreak, free of the responsibilities set upon her shoulders. And so this shell had shifted into something, someone, who needed Kirastasia implicitly. A wolf who wanted and craved for her love, her embrace. For now, that was all that she was. Only the most primal of instincts could break her free of this protective facade, and on this day, finally it had. When she woke, her auds twitched, listening to the rumblings of her stomach as the hollow organs rubbed against its own sides instead of against food. Again, it's muscles churned and a dull roar creaked from inside of her, and her mind switched to thinking about only one thing - food. Within seconds she was on her feet, leaving Kirastasia's beautiful, perfect body asleep and alone on the den floor. Silently, she slipped outside, her mind quiet and focused upon one task - food. Kirastasia's den was perhaps not in the safest of places, seeing as it was in the center of Malignant Felicity, but brindled fae had been talking recently of moving out, of finding a new place to call home. Kahlan had no opinion on the matter - she would follow her keeper until the ends of the earth - or at least until Kirastasia decided to throw her by the wayside like all others in her life had. Kahlan had, apparently, developed quite the flare for the dramatics. Her russeted fur quivered as the occasional droplet fell from the branches above her and landed on her thickened pelt, the riveting hairs pushing the drop, allowing it to cascade down her pelt until it fell harmlessly to the already moistened soil beneath her. Her Suns - had they strayed from the ground beneath her, from the coney prints that she was following, would have met a dull grey sky that was devoid of any star to match her orbs. This spring had not brought life into the land in the normal respect - it had brought warmth and rain, yes, but in exuberant amounts that sought to drown the life out of the habitants of Blossom Forest, just as the winter had sought to freeze them to death. So far, she had seen naught but the continuing greying of the skies, constantly overcast. How was the spring ever to end if there was no sun to encourage the plants to grow? Kahlan’s limbs were soon heavily coated with mud, darkening her pelt, but still she trotted on, following the single set of paw prints that gave her the direction of the coney. But when she finally reached the end of the line, the prints led into a den – at least it meant that the coney was home… The varg growled and shook her head, utterly focused upon getting to the coney, not even able to think about the fact that she could hunt elsewhere. No, her paws were already scratching at the ground, her daggers scratching long furrows into the soil, deepening and widening the entrance to the den, scratching as quickly as she could to get to her prey… her mind did not notice anything else. |
Replies:
- AND THE ABYSS - By KERSHOV March 5, 2016 at 04:46:59 PM
The Cry of Destiny - By Kahlan March 7, 2016 at 11:30:55 PM
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