| ELEANOR
and it tells you to tear everything apart
She hadn't done much, these days, instead simply existing in complacency and contentment with her mate in a home that was finally stable. Hunger, though, and a lack of suitable prey drove her to move towards the borders of Iromar this day, nostrils flared and eyes and ears attentive for any sign of a rabbit or perhaps a small fawn. The moorlands were dry during this season, a light coating of snow and ice draped the usually muddy and wet marsh, the cattails and ferns dry and bristling. Eleanor had been pleased enough since Aranck had been usurped, killed like the killer that he was, and the man who had separated her family was no more. His former mate still occupied her mind, their bond not waning with distance. She wondered vaguely if Malleah ever though of her, or if she was too happy with her new mate to care. She saw them sometimes, in dreams and the like, just murky visions yet she always tended to awake with her heart beating roughly and her mind keening for... something.
Eleanor supposed that it was good to get out, if nothing else, simply to clear her head. A fine fog settled over the marshes, and the woman of slate grey and white moved as if she were simply a ghost of a time long past. She raised her head. There was a scent lurking, not of prey, but of a wolf who smelled like the rocks and dust of Diveen. Vibrant eyes narrowed and she crept forwards, her thick fur brushing up against the various foliage as she made an attempt to move in relative silence. Finally she caught sight of the intruder, hanging about the very edges of Iromar's territory. Her fangs bared as she straightened and moved towards the younger woman, head held high and tail raised.
Perhaps she had little authority over these lands, but she had lived here long enough, long enough to see the rise and fall of many leaders and the fire that had scorched the packland. To protect her home, she would do many things, and threatening some young would-be spy was potentially on that list. Eleanor placed her body squarely in front of the intruder, her larger form blocking the view of the pack. A low growl came from her throat then, as she stared downwards at the stranger, tail lashing much like an irritated cat's.
"What do you think you're doing?" She asked the question in a distinct feminine cadence, a small growl gracing every word. This was the land that her family called home, pack affiliation aside. She would not let some sly bitch threaten it.
iromar | eight years | despoina's heart | malleah's soul
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