08-01-2010, 08:27 PM
A weight had lifted from the Whilom's very soul the night that she had reunited with her estranged mate and the leader of the Valley pack. Things were not perfect. She could pinpoint the exact, crystalline feeling of love that had once pierced her to her core while in Jefferson's presence, and so she did not know how they could recreate it together. But now there was something more than her own happiness to worry about. Her son was the defining measure of her life now. She had not ventured far from him in the two short months of his life, but she felt secure enough now to leave him sleeping safely in the haven of their home.
The slight gray wolfess was trying to regain her bearings. She had been a sub-leader of this pack months ago, before she had taken a fall from a terrible height that had robbed her of her health and disfigured the side of her face. The flesh of one side of her face was distorted slightly, pulling the flesh of her cheek tightly across her face. Her lime green eyes remained clear and she had retained her sense of vision, thankfully. But the fall had changed her permanently, inside and out.
Without a sense of smell, the wolfess relied solely on her memory of the lay out of the borders. She was trying to make a commitment to something or someone again, even in this small way. Perhaps she could start by doing this for Jefferson, for her son, for her pack, and perhaps her heart and grow and expand beyond its current limited scope again. From where she stood silhouetted in the moonlight, she was able to see a younger female prowling around and looking lost.
Geneva's whisper soft voice had a ghostly quality in the poor lighting and the darkness of the Hill of Graves. "Are you lost?"
The slight gray wolfess was trying to regain her bearings. She had been a sub-leader of this pack months ago, before she had taken a fall from a terrible height that had robbed her of her health and disfigured the side of her face. The flesh of one side of her face was distorted slightly, pulling the flesh of her cheek tightly across her face. Her lime green eyes remained clear and she had retained her sense of vision, thankfully. But the fall had changed her permanently, inside and out.
Without a sense of smell, the wolfess relied solely on her memory of the lay out of the borders. She was trying to make a commitment to something or someone again, even in this small way. Perhaps she could start by doing this for Jefferson, for her son, for her pack, and perhaps her heart and grow and expand beyond its current limited scope again. From where she stood silhouetted in the moonlight, she was able to see a younger female prowling around and looking lost.
Geneva's whisper soft voice had a ghostly quality in the poor lighting and the darkness of the Hill of Graves. "Are you lost?"