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.


Setting Fire to our Insides for Fun

Setting fire to our insides for fun

Cliche's fiery eyes widened comically as Hellene regaled the tale of the attack. Another pack? Surely it hadn't been a war between any of those within Blossom Forest. The cream colored fae thought that the packs had finally found a certain begrudged peace among each other - at least for now. Did that mean there was a rogue clan on the move? Fear coursed through her veins like ice, freezing her body where she stood on the spot. Suddenly the thought of finding a 'home' didn't seem so unappealing and vomit-inducing. Of course she'd hate every second of personal interaction, but a pack meant protection. Safety in numbers, after all. She was pulled back from her frantic musings by the solemn tone of Hellene's voice. So there were casualties? Cliche was curious, but knew better than to ask.

I'm sorry for your loss miss... I too have lost loved ones, and I fear it is never easy.

Her own voice was soft as she took a moment to join her companion in a moment of silent remembrance. The whine that left Hellene's lips sent a shiver down Cliche's spine. The fallen soldiers must have been close friends. She began to wonder what Hellene's pack was like. If a death elicited this kind of reaction, they must be very nice. Very closely knit. A true family unit. Cliche almost longed for that kind of connection again but as she opened her mouth to voice the thought the timbered she-wolf beat her to it. With an offer to join her on her journey home. Suddenly she was hesitant again. Would such a close family be willing to include her? Or would they cast her out? She simply couldn't handle any more rejection. But Hellene seemed so genuine and warm and welcoming... Oh, what the hell.

If you insist, then it would hardly be polite of me to decline. I'll journey back to your home with you, Miss Hellene, but I'll be gone at the first sign of hostility. I have no room in my life for any more pain. Should your family accept me I will do my best to help you heal their ailments, to repay the kindness you have extended to me in my time of need.


And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,
'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I'm forever missing him.

And you caused it.

/ Fae / Teen / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank /


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