WC:300+
The moon had set but she knew her way over the Anatheman crags and foothills well now and even the wind rocketing in her ears could not disorientate her. A black night waiting for the dawn, so dusky her fur was perfectly at one with the all-encompassing shadows. Here on the verge between summer and winter she should have only been glad in the knowing of the warm and protective caverns behind her, but tonight with a wild wind flurrying and whispering Caprica yearned for her wildwood home - but not for the loneliness. Tugged in every direction the tall wolf teetered on the borders, circling her neatly rounded body a few times like a cat settling to sleep, chasing her tail to help her think, then with a strangely-unworded decision she was still - staring unseeing into opaque pitch, green eyes as murky as her surroundings - then she was following the direction the wind whipped her fur, running, illicit and intrigued by the strange call of her escape.
As the sky started to gradient itself with light, the woman slowed, and changed, coming into the trees upon two legs, hands idly breaking off good-looking whippy willow twigs or hazels. She knew these parts, and while she was here, it would be worth a scavenging hour or two searching for the leaves, berries, nuts and mushrooms that she loved to flavour her diet with - they provided good nutrition, too, and she could take them home for the storerooms. She would be returning in spring, too - if not before. She had a nice bundle of twigs now, long ones, and when she reached the lake surrounded by the beautiful copses of syrup-bearing trees, picked a sheltered spot and began to weave around two saplings, creating first a wind-break, and then some curving walls sloping up to a pointed roof. The activity cleared her mind; she was absorbed, forgetting for a moment that this had not been her original intention - she was as industrious as if she had been planning for weeks.
Image courtesy of Ant Jackson@Flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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