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.

Refresh/Reload

;;{we can't all be cheerful};;
IP: 47.219.106.8

Audits flat against her cranium as she continued to swim against the current. Her pillars slowing as she moved against it. The ess' body surely did look pitiful and as she swam, her head looked a little pitiful too; drenched in water. Making even her head look smaller than it really was. Being drenched like this caused great discomfort for the small queen as she wasn't used to her pelt being so. . . so wet. But now of course in order to keep herself from going under- from drowning -she had to keep her small pillars moving. She had to keep her bodice, or in this case her cranium, above the raging river. The one thought that went through her cranium was I have to live for my pack, I have to keep moving. and in some ways, it gave her strength. In others, it made her weak because what if she did die? What would become of her packmates? Her follwers? She couldn't just abandon them. And so she trudged on, trying to get closer and closer to Kershov with no avail.

Grimacing when she briefly saw Kershov stop because of hitting into a rock, she then heard him yell to her. "Go with the current!" and so she did. She went with the current and sure enough it wasn't very long after until she felt his pillars kicking the water near her that she knew he was about to grab hold of her scruff again. And she let him do so; feeling a sense of relief as the snowy brute held her cranium above the water, her strength slowly depleting until he told her to keep kicking in a stern voice. A voice she so deeply recognized when she was a pup. Her father was always stern with her, especially since she was a princess. She had to do everything right or it wasn't good enough, but even through that, even through this she was still happy-go-lucky. But in this moment, she was slowly losing hope.

Opening her maw to speak, she tried to speak loud enough that Kershov would hear. While continuing to kick, mostly against his sides but still continued to kick as much as she could. What if we don't make it? Yes the current had slowed down and it was a bit more peaceful, but it still dragged them along. Until they'd get to a place where they could swim out. But still her voice loud enough for him to hear, but still a whimper such as a pup would make. And Milo couldn't help her personality, she just wanted everybody to be happy and if they did make it out of the river alive; she'd owe her life to Kershov and would trust him with it again and again if need be. And she would only hope that he trusted her enough for an alliance between their packs. But she'd wait until they were out of this mess until she brought up any of that. Because now wasn't the best time

M I L O
queen of wudubearo - no love - no pups - allied to none



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