Alone was something Skye was not very often anymore, and alone she was glad to be, even if she did not - or perhaps could not - show it. A deadpan face stared at the jagged rocks that she picked through, looking for sharp ones to bring home to her pack to create more weapons.
Her hand jerked upward, causing a rock she was examining to flip into the air and disappear behind her. She scowled - being so far away from home made her nervous and jittery, anxious to return and see if all was well. She was beginning to trust her newest members more, but she could never be certain of their true goals. Danger could come in any form. Even as a pup on the back of a scholar.
She picked up a smooth, reflective rock and stared into it - discontent and frustration stared back. She flipped it over and smoothly changed - the charismatic grin of a trader and a friend was now looking her in the eye, lying to her. She dropped the stone, searching for more; the grin wiped off her face, replaced with the emotionless demeanor again. She could not help but to remember how many had left her, abandoned her - friends, leaders, her own mate. She could not help but to remember, as she filled the bag that her horse Jack carried on his neck with stones, how they had left without a trace, without a second thought. Cold, cadaver-esque eyes scanned the crags for more stones, although not truly seeing.
Image courtesy of auensen
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