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.

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Blood.

That was the path that she was following, but it wasn't her own wounded prey that she was following but rather something far darker and forbidding. The blood was no Lera - no... it was not coney nor deer, elk nor moose, squirrel nor vole. It was of her own kind that Macaria hunted now, her stomach yearned for the taste of varg blood no matter the cost or damage that it did to her own soul. She had been holding back as of late when it came to feeding - she had been taking her anger out on Grey Wind, but her heart would not allow her to feed off of him. Only her sexual urges were fulfilled when it came to him, meaning that there was a lot left to be sated.

Her nares flared as she tracked the bloodied scent over the ground. She smiled - not a soft or comforting smile, but an evil wicked one that curled up over her face and spread throughout her flesh like a plague. There was a ripple of pleasure as she purred - the scent was stronger now... she was so close. Her paused step lasted but a moment before she was off again. Hastening her speed, she loped over the land, her body close to the ground both to hide her form and keep closer to the scent. Up the steep slope she climbed, dainty paws with dangerous intentions pushing her forward and faster. And then she peaked and squealed with anticipated delight for her prey, but instead found naught but a skin and bones pup trembling in the water of the falls, maw chattering uncontrollably and orbs white as snow, their color hidden.

"Tsk." Macaria clucked her tongue and turned her back on him. She would not eat something with so little meat or so little life in him. She had never had a pup before and never would - whether it was because she remembered her own innocence and it played some role in that decision she didn't know. But what surprised her was this - slowly, she turned around. Without a thought she lunged forward and grasped the pup's scruff, pulling him from the water. "Fuck." Macaria ran toward the woods nearby and began to dig through the roughage and shrubbery, paws scrapping through dead fallen leaves until she found what she wanted - long thin green leaves. Macaria grasped them in her mouth and began to chew them up as she ran back to the pup and spit them into his mouth. Sitting in front of him and using two of her paws, she held his maw together, knowing that in this seizure he would not be able to swallow... but perhaps some of it would absorb, and the Japanese Kampo would work to calm his seizure. Why she helped him, Macaria did not know. But here she was, the wolf helping the lamb.



||Macaria||Female||Vampiress of Abendrot, Zeta||Adult||Channing x Henadin||







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