Enocra Woodland

Pine, spruce and firs alike...
Dense coniferous forests cover the woodlands, with clearings, paths and the occasional wildberry shrub throughout. Pine, spruce and fir make up much of the forest in the east, with the forest becoming swampier in the west towards Mecor Valley. In the west, cypress trees dominate, with fallen trees creating bridges across and throughout the stillwaters.

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Kindness is magic
IP: 73.187.216.220

Magpie
have courage
be kind


Her giggle was muffled as Magpie wriggled in the snow, crunching on it a bit and enjoying the fluffy ice. Though she was still quite new to it, playing, she had decided, was something she quite enjoyed. Perhaps she’d pass along the good deed Lefteris had done before he’d left and teach Zanon to play. The wolf was far too serious sometimes, though she hardly blamed him. She was in the middle of a mouthful of snow when she heard a muffled voice from behind her and froze. ”Oh dear, Magpie. You must look a sight!”

No doubt she looked half mad; what bits of her could be seen. Thrusting her head up, she stumbled and wriggled until she could turn enough to see the wolf behind her. Now she really did look a sight, snow piled atop her head and nose, half swallowed by the drift and spitting out a half chewed clump of compressed snow so she could speak properly. Pale, opaline eyes met with a pair of eyes as unfathomable as the depths of the ocean and everything seemed to still until all she heard was the sound of her heart beating in her ears. ”Oh.”

This was certainly unexpected and a little alarming. From what she’d been told, imprinting was something gifted once in a lifetime to two wolves, but there was no mistaking the pull she felt toward the pale wolf. She’d felt it once before. Confused and a little upset though trying very hard not to let the later show as it would be rude, Magpie carefully extracted herself from the pile of snow and shook the remnants of her fun from her coat. How was this possible? She’d have to ask Zanon, he might know. In the meantime she probably ought to say something instead of staring at the poor wolf as if she’d seen a ghost.

Stepping forward cautiously, Magpie stretched out her neck and sniffed at the helpful fellow. He smelled of the ocean. She’d only caught glimpses of it now and then and caught a hint of it on the breeze when the wind shifted. This wolf smelled more strongly of the salty breeze and musky transitional lands between sand and fields. ”Sorry, I’m Magpie. I’m afraid you caught me being silly.”



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