you can't step in the same river twice

[Urma]

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OOC: ::Word Count:: 800+       The river beside her had almost disappeared from her mind, its place taken by the stranger’s mare. It was unusual enough for the pale Crimson Dreamer to see a horse, let alone find herself in such close proximity to it, virtually only an arm’s length away. The way that the Miracles male herded the graceful animal, the way just a simple touch of his could subdue the creature, was indeed an extraordinary sight. The pearl femme had never seen a wolf be able to anticipate with such flawless ease the next move of an individual from a different species, and could hardly take her eyes off from the bizarre pair, her expression betraying her curiousity, but also her obvious inclination to find out more about how someone could achieve such a level of obedience from a less intellectually developed animal. The fact that Urma had never seen a wolf ride a horse before only added to her surprise, and perhaps if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would not have believed it to be possible. It wasn’t necessarily that it was a ludicrous thought-- quite the contrary. While she expected Luperci to be able to exercise their wills on other creatures, in ways in which, from what she had read, humans once used to and which did not affect said creatures, the fact of the matter remained that the alabaster she-wolf had never actually seen this idea in practice. The assured manner in which the Miracles stranger had crossed the river, his perfect anticipation of the mare’s movements had triggered deep within the Dreamer female the desire to master a skill that seemed almost to come from a story. She didn’t know what to make of this as of yet unseen talent-- she doubted the male would feel any particular wish to teach her and, in any case, it would probably take some practice to be able to gain his self-possession in handling the reins and steering the horse in the right direction.       Her fascination for the obedient mare had made Urma quite unaware of the reaction her presence had triggered. It seemed that her scent was familiar to the wolf, for his posture lacked the composed nature of only a moment ago. It was the second occasion in a small span of time in which another canine treated the ivory-furred female with caution, at times even a hint of weariness. It put her off completely-- if she had sympathized with Kaena’s initial reserve, considering Urma’s wolf heritage and Kaena’s coyote blood, she could not appropriately judge the Miracles wolf’s reaction to her being there. Even if she had crossed the borders of his pack, she surely had done no one any harm by willing her time away on the banks of a river. She had certainly not come all the way here seeking trouble, though, indeed, in the same time, she could not accurately give a reason for her presence.       The mare gave signs of wanting to approach her and the blanched femme extended a hand towards it, wanting to stroke its gentle muzzle. Half-way through, though, she stopped and allowed her gaze to settle on the unwavering figure of the male. She got up slowly, trying to assure him by this gesture that she meant him no harm and that she would not do anything unexpected, but did not dare outstretch her arm to touch the horse unless she had his permission. “May I stroke it?” she asked politely, a hint of uncertainty clear in her voice, laced with the faintest trace of shyness. His words came as a surprise to Urma, and she pulled her ears back in discomfort, hoping that his answer did not come as a response to something he had taken as an offense. She pushed the hair back from her face uncomfortably, before trying to lighten the atmosphere by saying, “Well, that’s just as well, for I am no princess either. Though, while I indeed look nothing of the kind, you could easily pass off as an adventurous knight,” she ventured an opinion in the end. She hoped that this way he would see her earlier remark as what it had actually been, namely a joke. His question prompted her to continue before any more reason for suspicion arose, so she said, the tone of her voice warm and melodic, “I am Urma, from Crimson Dreams. I don’t expect my name to ring as familiar with you-- I don’t believe we’ve ever made each other’s acquaintance before. No matter; I am glad to make it now. Who are you, then, kind sir?” Timidity seeped into her voice as she finished, so that her question came out slightly shakily, and she lowered her head imperceptibly, as if the sound of her own voice had hurt her ears.

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