08-26-2008, 11:20 PM
Shiloh Hills.
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He went ahead of the main group, urging his exhausted horse further and faster than he should. In truth, he was anxious — a curious feeling of high expectations mixed with usual pessimism. Was this it, he wanted to ask. Was this where they would set up the tribe once more? If it was, he didn’t understand what was the difference between this and their old home. Someone would have to be without a sense of smell not to notice the incredible concentration of werewolves and other lycanthropes in the area. Perhaps they were more peaceful, and perhaps they were not. Itsihnalv was in no place to feel hopeful — he had been without a home for far too long to feel that emotion for a while.
For now, however, he wished to summon all the courage he could manage and catch up to his sister. She must have been pretty far out, seeing as though she had to send her Guides back to relay messages back and forth. He gained the distance steadily, though at the expend of his companion. Eventually, once they were very much into the lands of ‘Souls, he allowed the tired creature to slow to a walk. The tall, powerful dark horse couldn’t take much more, and Itsihnalv imagined he could try to be patient for a little longer.
After wandering for a few moments, he slid nimbly from the back of his horse, murmuring words of support and thanks in the low tongue to the creature. The horse snorted, but seemed to take it easily. Itsihnalv took the reins in his hand, leading the horse on foot. He kept all of his senses keen for any familiar scent — though he hadn’t really seen her since he had gotten back from his Journey, he would know full well when he found it. Half an hour later, his thin patience was beginning to wear and his frustration was beginning to show. Nevertheless, he pressed on as the afternoon sun sluggishly pressed on towards the horizon.