Perhaps she had been raised differently to the wolves around the new world, she did not know. As cautious and weary as she were, she still found herself craving some sort of company. She was by nature a social creature, a gentle soul and yet one that thrived off the affection and company of others; she had come from a large pack, nomadic but large nonetheless, a pack she would understand one day was much more like a family than the packs of Moladion. She'd been raised along her nameless siblings and far off cousins in a nurturing, safe environment; they played, they learned and not once had they been exposed to the darkness that life was capable of. Why had she left some an environment? Why would she risk such a peaceful, stagnant life? It was... complicated to say the least. Her pack custom dictated that she would receive her name when ready and when she did, it was to signify her dispersal from them. When the red aurora and thunder had broken up the usual silence of the night sky, fate it seemed had called her out from the rest. A call she was not permitted to refuse - not by pack lore, or by the insatiable curiosity that welled within her.

It's why she always found herself announcing her arrival. As much as her instincts told her to lay low and survive, the part of her they called the soul wanted to be found. Despite the way her ears twisted and turned like satellites, she yipped and pawed playfully at the water beneath her muzzle, spraying herself in a light mist of cool water. Through lack of company, she had found herself playing with her own imagination; yipping cheerfully as the water sprayed up, her jaws snapping out in a futile effort to catch it before it fell back to the river. It was during one of these excitable snapping and throwing fits did the form of another arrive in her peripherals. Instantly, her head lifted and her entire body became rigged; wide eyes and ears pointed to the stranger, a muffled wuff beneath her breath.

In that moment, she analysed each and every inch of the girl. Dirty - stinking of mud and swamp - and yet distinctively feminine and not of complete maturity at that point. She smelt of few wolves but many places not of the river bank and though her posture was indifferent, it was not distinctively hostile. Slowly, her head tilted and as it did, her tail began to wave slowly behind her before speeding up into a cheerful wiggle. With a playful yip, she fell into a bow, her tongue lolling out before she nudged a rock playfully towards the muddy female, pawing absently as it rolled towards her.

She wanted to play; she wanted to leap and dive through the water and throw rocks about like snowflakes. Again, she yipped, those strange red-pink eyes starring up at her new companion with all the hope and wistfulness within her. Was the world she had found so much different to her own home?

Y A K O N E
three - image - no imprint - wanderer