Once this place used to hold the yin and yang scenery of Blossom Field. Now, there are miles of winding tundra. To the north, this tundra is cruel and dry, with wisping weaves of tall grasses. The ground is cracked and cold, and it hardly is ever moistened by dearly desired rainfall. To the south, the tundra becomes more prosperous - meadows of flowers and herbs grace the ground. Part of this connects near Elebeam Weargtreow - however it is an impassible field of poppy, which will put any wolf trying to cross it into a deep slumber, and eventually die.

Those looking to hunt here will find mice, snakes, and rabbits, along with pronghorns, bison, and javalinas.


Love Will Have Its Sacrifices

The Hearts Keep Breaking

That voice. By God, that voice. Carmilla could tell that someday this vixenís sultry lyrics would be her undoing. Each syllable made her shiver in excitement and pleasure. Each word chosen with such purpose and intelligence to create a piece of art, a poem, so inimitable. Carm was already so lost in this girl and it had only been mere minutes. Everything was moving so quickly, and yet it seemed like time had stopped all together. The world was spinning around where they stood stationary and silent. It was like a life was passing the pair by while they stared into each otherís eyes unabashed, unable to move away. Like magnets drawn to one another by an invisible force, futile to fight. The thought shook her to the core, but truthfully, she didnít care.

Anticipation. Apprehension. It was all she could feel. Her brain could barely function in such close proximity to the goddess standing before her. And still, she had the sense of mind to keep her cool. Easier said than done. she mused to herself and chuckled at her own naivety. She struggled to slow her ragged breathing, again trying to relax her stance and void her face of emotion. To the average outsider she appeared somewhat nonchalant. But she couldnít quite silence her active imagination or the unhindered adoration swimming in her crimson pools. On the inside she was a mess. This wonderful seductress must surely have put her under some kind of powerful spell, one that grew stronger with each lyrical word she spoke.


Came her soft reply, her sweet breath blowing against the ivory beauty's cheeks. They were so close now. Eye to eye, toe to toe. Their noses brushing delicately ever so often if one of them moved just so. Each time their muzzles touched a shiver rippled down her lithe body like the aftermath of a pebble tossed into a still lake. She tried immediately to return the question, desperate to know the calling of the sweet she-devil, but words seemed to fail her. A myriad of unintelligible sounds left her suddenly very dry mouth, until finally words put themselves together in her favor. It was like they mocked her, those words. Making her sound like such a bumbling, illiterate idiot in the presence of the incomparable songstress. So much for keeping her cool.

And what do they call you, love? If I may be so bold, you are quite beautiful.


And The Heads Just Roll

/ Carmilla / Young Lady / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank /


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