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.


a future corrupt.

no man can inherit a bloodline
such as this man-made destructive power

What the monochrome wolfess received in return of her lyrics was a threat… or was it, perhaps, a warning? Nike had stumbled clumsily away from the fallen demon after it’s words, her emerald hues stuck on her opposite. She was frozen, the chill of the air surrounding her finally creeping in and settling itself into her delicate bones as she stood rigidly in her place. It wasn’t the atmosphere that constructed the bitter cold inside of her, however. It was fear, pure and raw. She did not know what to say. What was there to say? Or even to do. She hadn’t a clue. So, dumbfounded, she stood. Her instincts demanded her: Fight or run. Fight or run. Fight or run.

But it seemed like there was use for neither, because in the next moment, the onyx and ivory varg had risen, it’s frame significantly larger than Nike’s own petite one. As if it were guided by the iced breeze, the wolf swayed, and reflex prompted the ink-stained femme to angle her front appendages so that she’d be prepared to propel herself and catch it from diving to the earth. “I told you to run,” it grunted, it’s words laced with pain. And how desperately she wanted to. What kind of wolf wouldn’t want to spare themselves any hurt? But the young vixen had desired to be a healer; meaning that Nike was not to deny or back down from anyone who seemed to need her help. “I’m not leaving… I can’t.” Her voice maintained it’s sweetness, but underneath it, her words presented a slight tremble. “Let me help you,” she urged softly, unsure. Jewels of emerald surveyed the magnificent beast, taking in it’s unique pattern. She didn’t realize that it was drawing closer her... Not until it was too late.

Instantaneously, it’s colossal silhouette met with her own, their obsidian and ivory robes collided into one, and Nike’s frame met the frozen ground with a soft and dull thud. “Oomph!” She cried faintly beneath her breath as the varg’s frame weighed down on her own.

young adult .x. queen .x. no heart .x. Crith-Thalmhainn


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