Glaesfaet Sceawere is the name gifted to the mother river that flows through the center of Blossom Forest, bringing life and sustenance to all of the lands. It breaks off in many places, giving birth to smaller streams and estuaries, but the main body flows from the lake high in the north in Dierne Hrof all the way south down through Uyaraut to empty into the ocean. It is a fresh water river, but down through Uyaraut, the salt water does taint it. In places, parts of the river are underground and run through caverns unseen from aboveground.

Water buffalo grace these shores - with plenty of meat, though at a dangerous cost. Many river trout leap upstream daily.

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For months, and really for far too long, Tiresias had felt content to stay upon the shore. There was really no good reason why that place was the one that he had stuck to. Perhaps it was because it was the last place that he had been with Eerie, his foster mother. He could not say that was the last time he saw her, for he had never seen her - after all, Tiresias was blind. But the pair of them had spent more than one day there… And after the torrential wildfire that had claimed the lands of Cold Summers as its own and burned everything that Tiresias had ever known to the ground, this was where they had fled, together. Or, rather, to be more accurate, this was where Eerie had dragged him to, despite his pleas to go back, to return so that they could find his siblings, and his aunt Apollonia. And even though she had left him here… Never to return… Tiresias had never left himself. So perhaps that was the reason, or perhaps it was because he had too much cowardice to venture out into the new lands. Especially after the change that had occurred, making everything they swapped up in a puzzle. Of course, when he had this discussion with himself, he made the argument that he had tried a few times, tried to go to one of the other packs, anywhere would do. But always he had given up. He knew that if he followed back the way he came, he would have a den all to himself. Plus, he wouldn’t have to answer any of the pesky intimate questions the others would ask him.

Whatever the reason, Tiresias had essentially sentence himself to confinement on the beach. It didn’t matter whether it was the silt sure of the lake or the fine sand and gravel mixture of the shore of the ocean… So he called this place his home, it was his jail. But now, now with Castile staying with him, suddenly he had a desire to venture out beyond his horizons. To leave the safety and familiarity of the water‘s edge and go to new places, meet other wolves. Of course, that in and of itself had its own risks. Already one Main and Wolfe from his blood pack had come to claim him… How many others would as well? He wished that they would just leave him alone, that they would forget about his existence and carry-on with their own lives in their own way. But deep down, he knew that they would not. He knew that they would keep coming until he either claimed his throne or they have proof of his death. But was living in a constant state of fear… Not so much here but concern was no way to live it all. And yes, that was the word for it-concern. If only he could clean that his blood pack held moral wolves, held creatures who had a sense of right and wrong and listens to their inner conscience. But that cannot be claimed by his relatives-between the story is that his mother and his adoptive mother had told him, along with the war and bloodshed itself, he was all too intimate with their ways and ideology.

But he had decided that it was worth the risk of being discovered-great to risk with me and greater reward, and was it worth it? Wasn’t it all worth it in the end? It did help of course, that Casteel was living with in the same cavus him-just knowing that he had another to go home to give him Chris, give him bravery and strength that he previously did not have. Today, this day, found him taking perhaps a small step, but I stepped nonetheless. It was meant to be the central aspect of the rest of his explorations-after all, the river itself emptied into the ocean, as did all of the tributaries of the river. In short, no matter which way he went, once he came to the river, he would know that he could eventually follow it down to the ocean. If he ever got turned about, he would still have a way to get to familiar ground, a place he could use as a landmark. The soft, thin layer of snow beneath his pads crunched with his weight, and with each step, he wiggled his phalanges ever so slightly in order to feel the texture of the ground beneath him. Each step, he took another small breath in order to taste the air and pick up on its intricacies. He was perhaps only a few miles from the water, but already he could tell a difference in the air-the brine from the saltwater no longer flavored each of his installations, and he could no longer hear the crashing of the waves. He found it oddly site silent, almost to silent. Most with think that he like the silence so that you could better pick up on things… But the exact opposite was true. He liked the noise he liked hearing what it was around him-complex orchestrations of nature gave him a way to differentiate one place from another. I gave him a better idea of his surroundings, and allowed his mind to paint a picture, a scene, a campus-the only canvases that he would ever be privy to. The clock went step-by-step, where he was really in no rush. He did not have any plans for this day, just like he had not had any plans yesterday, just like he had no plans for tomorrow. He would go as far as he wished, and when he felt he was done for the day, he would turn back. Life truly was that simple for him. If of course, you forgot about all of the assassins trying to kill him of course. But to digress to the pallet that he was savoring, sampling, yes, the Brian was gone. But in its place there’s so much else-there was the better tang of humidity, despite it being in the middle of the winter. There was the rough edge to the wind, as it whipped across the surface of the river from one wall to the other. There was the long chain of echoes from each of his steps upon the gravel, in each crew softer intern until it disappeared from his auditory range altogether. He had no doubt that come spring time, there would be added to all of this, the noise of tall, reedy plants rubbing against each other as they suede in the breeze. There a be the scent of various policies from each of the water herbs. It would be the sound of insects, enjoying as they so off often did the buffet of nectars prepared for them. And what you wish to hear most? The gentle lopping of the water against the graveled sure, so that he would be much better prepared and much better able to differentiate the river itself from the shore.

Instead, here in the dead of winter, he was given the perfume of something else… Another wolf. None had made themselves known to him, but he also had not heard any. And here, where there was such a resolute silence, he was quite sure that if they were following him, he would know
. He would hear their steps echoing just as he heard his own now. But there was nothing, there were none. Just silence. Curiosity build him to the brim, and he ever so slightly changed his course to follow the sent. Whichever direction I got stronger, that was the way he went. But the whole while, he counted his steps, so that if he got turned around, he would know which way to go to get back to the river. And from there? He would know which way to go to get home. Being blind was not something he considered a disability, most likely because he had been born that way and new nothing else. But the only test he did mine tedious was mapping out a new place. Mostly it was because he was such a perfectionist and said of just going from one place to another, he also moved side-by-side in order to check for any other obstacles that he might face later. But now? For now he was content not to map but instead to fear from his course entirely. He could feel the ground shifting and changing beneath him as he moved further away from the water‘s edge. The scent grew stronger and stronger until he was stopped by a wall, a shelter. He did not walk into it, rather he stopped before it. You could tell its presence because of the way the air suddenly move differently around him. Laying a gentle smile across his kissers, he peered down at the wolf who laid near him. Surprisingly, this wolf would not be able to tell that he was blind - unlike most other wolves who were born blind, he did not have the telltale pale blue sightless pools. No, his were a vibrant shade of Jade, and both of his twin opticals were staring directly at Ruby.

Why hello there… Why are you alone?

Tiresias did not know that it was a pup before him - he would’ve asked the question no matter who he was before. For it was a good question - why did a wolf, which was a creature meant to live in a pack, choose to forgo their instinct in order to instead face a life alone? He did not know the answer for it… especially since he thought he was different from other nomads. Patiently, he waited for an answer, and while he waited, he sat and curled his plume around his paws in order to protect them from the cold.

||Tiresias||Teenager||Cold Summers Lost Heir of Faraway||Son of a Broken Home||Azura||




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