until the
lion learns how to write
every story will glorify the hunter
Too big to be a fox, she thought as she lowered her muzzle to the ground to better study the half-formed print in the mud. But I didn't think there were many wolves this south. Lakota was well acquainted with the wolves that prowled her childhood home, and the more she studied the print, the more uneasy she became. She had always thought of the Crossing as being too busy for predators to thrive; not for lack of prey, but for lack of privacy.
Still, she stored the information away for later and peered out into the dull, gray morning. A southern breeze had picked up somewhere in the wee hours of the dawn, and brought with it a grisly, misty sort of day. Her coat felt damp, as did the grass, and the trees. It was hardly the sort of day one would pick for starting a new chapter in life, but that always seemed to be the case for her. Lakota had learned to stop waiting for the perfect moment or the right time. Both were myths; tools she used to procrastinate against moving on.
She needed to do something else.
She'd lost track of her family some time ago in their travels. Somewhere between her sire leaving for the islands and Arael's death, Lakota had stopped hoping for things to return to normal. They were never going to retake the Inlet. They were never going to return home.
The gray mare sighed softly and turned toward the Commons with a frown. She knew the gist of how the land worked, and of it's danger, but she also knew it was the fastest way to start over - risks aside. The meadow could lead her to spending months interviewing and turning down bachelors, especially considering she had no idea what she even wanted out of life, let alone how to achieve it. She might put herself in danger in the Commons, but at least she wouldn't have to be the one to choose what was next.
No more procrastinating, it was time.
young mare //
Mutt //
gray //
15 hhscarecrow x cherokee