Where once the southern border of Blossom Forest was made by Leisure Lake, the magical rearrangement of the lands has laid there instead a vast, uncrossable ocean. The shore differs as you travel along it. Tall mountainous cliffs arise on the western part and at one point, the large river that runs through Blossom Forest opens up at its tributary into a well sheltered cove. As you come more eastward, the towering peaks shorten into rocky foothills. A large section of the shore is inaccessible to most, as Uyaraut has claimed it as their own. But if you skirt around their territory, the hills disappear, swallowed up into the land until it is as flat as the eye can see. The vibrant greens dull into short and dry browns and tans, and the land dries and cracks apart until it melds into The Waste - the desert that forms Blossom Forestís easternmost border.

For those looking to hunt here, there are of course the fish within the ocean, along with crabs, seals and urchins. For on the shore, there are seagulls, herons, and ospreys.

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{|| dakota || male || adult || no pack || no mate || greensmurf ||}
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Dakota trekked at an easy pace through a forest path. It was spring in Blossom Forest, and it was the part of spring that he most enjoyed. The soggy, wet melting of winter had passed and sometimes there were even warm touches during the day that gently, slowly prodded them towards summer. A light breeze tugged at his shaggy fur. The forest smelled of newness. Pups were being born, flowers were in full bloom, the tunes of song birds echoed through the trees. He wasnít really the type to romanticize simple things like the changing of the season but he did appreciate the pleasantries that came with the nicer weather. The little things that he observed served as a simple distraction from the scattered musings he might usually be mulling over in his mind during a stroll like this. He was in a new land. He had no connections, no plans, no home to speak of. It would be easy to be overwhelmed with such anxieties.

Dakota wasnít that easy a wolf to overwhelm.

After exiting the path, he found himself at the shore of a picturesque lake. Creamy off-white paws tread on the soft land beside the subtlety swaying water. The movement was minimal and the calm water mirrored the blue, cloudless sky above. He halted before his paws met the water and his intelligent, dark brown eyes peered down at his reflection. The aquarelle canine staring back was a handsome brute. He was a little stocky and on the taller side of average; what that meant to most wolves was he could hold his own in the occasional scrap but he also did not intimidate most wolves by his mere appearance. A happy medium. His fur was largely a creamy off-white color, with a rusty burnt orange taking over as you moved upward on his body, until reaching the upward edges of his silhouette which was fringed in black. He broke the glassy surface with his tongue, welcoming the cool liquid into his mouth. His thirst was greater than he had expected and his gulping increased, almost desperately, for a moment. At least until something else broke his concentration away from quenching the dryness in his throat.

It was a lone howl. The singular note was not commanding; no, rather tender against his lobes. That was likely why it had caught his attention the way it did. The tone was enchanting; dancing along the air instead of slicing through it like so many wolves did when they projected their voices. It was a beautifully simple song, like a sweet berceuse written just for blossom forest. It was also, he realized, very close. He redirected his attention towards the source, a couple hundred yards down the shoreline of the lake. Dark, earthy eyes spotted a wolf so red in the sunlight that he thought she might actually be on fire. Before he had a chance to even consider walking to the vixen, another female approached her. This one, smaller in stature, was also red although her shade was a little more muddled. Since the burning female was occupied it seemed like a good moment to close the distance between them. He pulled up to a few yards away from the two, leaving enough space that he wouldnít be interrupting the conversation they seemed engaged in. When he was given the chance, he would greet them with a dip of his skull.

ďIím Dakota. Youíre a wolf on fireÖ but Iím guessing thatís probably not your name.Ē

He was speaking to the wolf cloaked in bright red. She was the one who had invited strangers to address her. He hesitated saying anything to the other wolf as she had not indicated whether she was only here to see the other vixen or if she was here to meet others as well. He would acknowledge any greeting she gave if she did, though, before turning attention back on the bright red canine.




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