Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.
A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.
I'm not a princess, oh no, don't you know? IP: 74.141.235.32 Posted on September 4, 2017 at 09:46:58 PM by Phoenix
Her single stirring paw stirred up dust and ash and soot, and for a moment she imagined she could feel the warmth of a fire. She could hear the crackling and popping of devouring flames, the plant life blackening and crumbling to pieces. If she closed her eyes would she see the flames flickering before her, or would there only be that familiar darkness? Even more she is tempted to roll and coat herself in these ashes, make her coat a tapestry of honour for the dead and gone. She would breathe in the departed souls, feel lost knowledge coat her lungs. Would that make the ghosts satisfied, to breathe with her in life, to know that through another they lived on?
She should move on any moment now, and not linger in a place of ashes and death. To linger and brush noses with the past and misfortune was never the smartest thing that anyone could do, but Phoenix has always done what the others would not. She was used to being strange and mysterious to others, but she would rather be strange than pretend to be something she was not. There had been a time where she didn't know who she was, but she has put the pieces together little by little to become the maned wolf she was today. She may not have a home to call her own just yet, but that means she can continue her exploring journeys.
One ear swiveled at a distant sound, of the ashes and soot whispering as they were moved. Someone was following her tracks, the small traces she had left of her existence. Soon enough she would no longer be alone in this sea of ash and soot, a place she would have had no issues for coming back to sleep over and over again. She turned her head and her ice blue eyes found the one who had come to seek her, the first wolf she would meet in these strange lands. "I'm a travelling gypsy, I have no home to rest my head." This was not to say that she could not sleep here amongst the cinders, or find a safe place that she could curl up for a good night's sleep.
Her voice is soft with all of her wonderings, quiet like the moon's shadow. The moon's light cast everything in silvers and shadows, and seemed to lend it's own magical lens to the landscape around them. "Isn't it interesting, how time changes all things? What could have been today, might be gone before day's light breathes it's first." This is maybe why she prefers to be alone, because maybe nobody could understand or appreciate the thoughts in her head. Usually she is full of fire and spunk, but tonight seems to be turning a brand new leaf. A burning phoenix by morning light, and the mystical gypsy by night's shadows. Replies:
