in liberating strife

Voron Radav · 07-19-2011, 02:00 PM

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OOC:
Word Count:467

With a satisfied smile, the pitch black female put the newly finished medicine bag on the ground next to her. It had been a simple matter to catch and kill a rabbit for the skin, but shifting to Optime form had been an ordeal. She had not been in any form other than Lupus in the months since she had left Dahlia de Mai, an it was strange to walk on two legs instead of four. However, thumbs were required to make even the simplest of bags. Her creation was crude, a lumpy un-dyed rabbit skin sewed into a bag shape and tied at the neck with sinew. A braided cord of leather served as a way to wear it around her body. Though it was not beautiful, it would serve it's purpose: to carry whatever herbs and other supplies she could find. Healing always brought her peace, as if helping the physical wounds of others served as balm to her own spiritual wounds.

Voron was still on the edges of Dahlia de Mai's old land. She couldn't bring herself to leave; she had no where else to go. She had taken to haunting the land around the old cemetary, becoming something of a ghost herself. This place was as close to a home as she had, and she felt happy here. Though she was lonely sometimes, at least the solitude allowed her to work out her issues in peace.

A howl broke the morning silence, shattering the fragile peace around the thin female. She rose to her feet suddenly, grabbing her bag and throwing the strap over her head. Though a few loners had wandered through here since her arrival, Voron tended to avoid them. But this howl did not sound threatening, instead it sounded as if someone was announcing their presence, like one would do upon arrival at another pack's borders. Perhaps it was another returning Dahlian wolf, one who did not yet know of the pack's absence. If that was the case, then Voron felt it was her responsibility to tell them that there was no one here – and of the old leader's death.
With a sigh, the black female set out towards the origin of the howl. She hoped that whoever the wolf was, he would not try to cause her trouble.

As she approached the boarder, Voron saw a shape lying on the ground crying. He was a silver and tan male, curled up and sobbing as if he was the only one left in the world. Feeling like an intruder, Voron stepped towards him. She cleared her throat gently, trying not to take him by surprise. “Are you ok?” she asked him quietly, concern making her less wary than she normally would be as she approached the strange wolf.

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