It was nice to walk around. Painful, but at least now she could. She hadn't trusted her body to be able to stand a longish walk and back again, and she didn't want to sleep outside like this. No matter how long ago it had happened, going on nearly three weeks, she still felt bad. She felt.. wrecked. Though, she knew it was probably more her mind that made her feel that way, and not the body. She was mentally drained, and odd pains in her body kept showing up, even though they didn't really have a relation to the fight nor the birth. It was like a thousand small fires, clawing at her skeleton, all day long. Aching. Her heart was no less in pain. She could ignore her body, but the hollowness in her being was too present, too heavy, and too cold. How many times had she been forced to tell her story now? She broke her own heart every time. As if keeping it a secret would unmake the past. It sometimes felt that way. However, Haku had made sure basically everyone in the pack knew what had happened, so she hid from them, partly in shame, partly because she didn't know what else to do. Her mother had stuck around, and her brother, but other than that she had not met anyone in Dahlia de Mai in nearly a month. Maybe it was better that way.

A scent filled her nose as she came closer to the border, and she trotted along in its direction, four legs carrying her ivory, bruised body lightly; it looked easier than it was. What she found made her indecisive as to what to do, still hiding but having the male in sight. She shrugged mentally, he had probably smelled her now anyways. He looked angry, angry like herself. Angry at things enough to want to kill them, destroy them. Perhaps this walk hadn't been the smartest idea after all, he might attack her. No matter, he probably knew she was there, so entering the scene openly wouldn't do anything to or fro. Her body was tense as she moved into plain sight, tail pointing in vaguely between her legs, yet her posture not humble. He was on their border, and she would act accordingly. Noticing his wounds, she decided he was no threat, yet she was weak herself, so what could she do? A friendly approach was probably the best. Friendly, but cautious. She tried to throw a polite smile on top of it, but as she sat down her shoulder screamed in pain and it turned into more of a wince. Hello, stranger.

She watched him, calmly, as he spoke. Although she didn't know, she had been stressed by his presence, and what he said made her relax somewhat. It was weird how one could suddenly relax, not knowing one had been tense in the first place. Then again her body was all up-side-down these days, so no wonder. She cocked her head as she watched him, curious. He was polite. Or maybe formal was the word. It almost made her sigh inside; she didn't have energy for a formal conversation. She didn't know what she wanted, though. Go back in time, perhaps? Who knew. Shadowed Sun? she hadn't heard of them. Frankly, she hadn't explored much after settling down in Dahlia de Mai, besides the .. encounter. And after that she had been preoccupied with nearly dying and the like. Her gaze was steady, steadier than her heart, as she watched and he asked her questions. He looked about as tired as she was, bruised, wounded. And his body language shone of it. Perhaps some of the same tiredness that Mew felt inside her own bones. It made her wonder... what world was this, this male seemed kind enough? An odd world, where the good lose to the bad, nothing like the stories she imagined when she was a child. She had lived those stories until she came back and settled down in these lands. Perhaps they were tainted. Perhaps it was the coyotes' presence.

You are on the border to the Dahlia de Mai packlands, she said, emerald eyes seeking eye contact. Don't worry about the trespassing or shifting, I'm not fussed. I just sensed you here and thought I'd go have a look, I haven't been this far from my home for a long time. She wrapped her tail around her haunches as she sat there, but her front legs were soon shaking and she felt like lying down. He probably couldn't see them shaking though, it was more of a sensation. Funny how even half of her weight seemed to be too much for her legs to carry. She looked tired, did she? Nothing new. And frankly, so did he. For his bold statement he would get the same questioning hint in return. Playing kids games, throwing the ball along. This could be an interesting conversation; she was in the mood for it. Thank you, I am tired... you don't look too awesome yourself, in terms of weariness...?

She grew bored of word-games rather easily. She always had done. But this was no ordinary word-game. This was the game of relieving personal history, without doing so, at the same time. Hinting at it, putting down clues to provoke questions. The ivory female knew that it could go on forever if the participants let it do so, and in truth she was tired already. Much too tired to be out here, and she needed energy to get back as well. Thus, she decided to answer his subtle questioning more directly, hoping she would get an equal response to it from him. It would speed things up. He had blatantly been attacked, perhaps he longed to talk about it with someone. She hadn't spoken, truly, about her own story, the only thing she had done was tell it. She would tell it again, and feel weak again, but perhaps she would find him a worthy participant for a proper conversation.

I am, I can't help it. I had a litter, but it was taken away from me, violently, by the hands of a filthy coyote named Asphyxia. She very nearly took my life, but I survived, although I sometimes wish I had not. She paused, thinking about what she had said. The last sentence had taken her aback. It was true, but she hadn't thought about it until the words left her mouth. It sounded too dramatical as well, when she thought of it. but nonetheless true. Her green eyes were fixed on his, face grave. There was not much more to say about the case.

She blinked at his words, not truly understanding what game he was playing at. He was eloquent, very much so, but perhaps too smooth. His choice of words was strange to her; no one she knew spoke like that. Yet she found herself approving of it, even though she needed to concentrate to pick up the meaning of his sentences. As she listened to what he said she, again, noticed how rage welled up inside her. So they had attacked this one too, had they? She wondered how many on the previous, and these lands that were untouched by the violence of the coyotes of Inferni. She looked up at him as his paw landed on her shoulder, meant as a supporting gesture but she saw it as nothing more than a sign that she was weak. Then again, she did feel weaker than ever, and thus didn't care to reject this friendly physical touch. He was polite, and quite handsome, and she would not do well to overreact because of her pride issues.

Why had she said that? It was the truth, but not completely 100%. She was fond of life, and she did not wish to die per se, but losing her children was definitely a hard blow to her view of the world. Everywhere she looked there would be offspring, in one way or another. The other day she had chased down a rabbit for lunch only to find that she had small ones, and promptly let them be. Abnormal behavior, she had never sympathized with prey before. Well... I lived for those little beauties. She had seen them, and they had truly been beautiful. So small, and so fragile. Unmoving, lifeless, yet they had seemed as if they could start moving any second, and squeal for their mommy. What am I to live for when they are gone? Gone, gone and buried. Where, she did not know, and she had not dared ask her mother yet. But it felt as if it was her life that was buried, gone, somewhere six feet under in the lands behind her.

Again she was taken aback. What a strange one this was. She had met many a personality, and most did what she did; kept up a facade of calmness, coolness, sometimes overdone. She'd traveled around for a long time before she came back and settled here, and her behavior had sometimes created reactions. One place, they had considered her passionate for even laughing, but most found her cold. She was cold, though lately she'd eased up. Somewhere along the way she had stopped caring whether people could see her feelings, but she kept up a facade of calm anyways. What other people thought of her didn't matter as much anymore, but she still couldn't run around showing her emotions all the time like some over-eager teenager in heat. This was why she was so surprised at the embrace she now was thrown into. She didn't know how to react, so she just stood there, accepting it. She didn't push him away, but she didn't know whether it was a welcome gesture, even if it was comfortable. She felt as if he thought she was weak, and wanted to tell him clearly, that she was not. A weak person might have succumbed to madness by now, but she was sane, and she did not need protection. Obviously, though, something in her had triggered his compassion, and he seemed to need to protect her anyway. No one could protect her from pain that had already been inflicted on her.

The river of words that flowed from him only added to the surprise and insecurity she felt regarding how to react. She'd never been with a male, not in a mateship; she'd never loved. How her children came to be was another matter, and most would probably not understand. It wasn't rape, but not love, and it wasn't pure sex for the sake of pleasure either. It was hard to explain, and Mew would never attempt to make anyone understand. But the sum of it all left her helpless in regard of knowing what to do. Males were strange, to her. Eventually she spoke, voice calm, but hesitant, and hushed - speaking into the furs of his neck. I did not mean that I genuinely wish to die. But sometimes the pain is unbearable. I have seen how beautiful they were, though, and I know I would have been a good mother. It gives me faith, and it gives me something to live for. She paused. She hadn't meant to say those words; again she spoke without thinking, and revealing sides of herself she did not know beforehand. She thought about her children continuously, but she'd never really thought of the fact that they gave her faith. She rarely used such words, and especially not when describing herself; religion was sign of weakness, as she saw it. But faith could be other things as well. Faith in herself, maybe. Apshyxia has already been punished, by the hands of my brother. One day I will take from her what she took from me, though, and I won't lie; I will enjoy it..My pack is at war with Inferni, and they will taste a fraction of the pain they caused me, by my teeth, when I'm strong enough.

He pulled back from the embrace and spoke again. Like before he seemed unusually passionate, to her, and at first it had been strange. Almost as if he was false, a smoothtalker. But she realised that it wasn't that which laid behind his words. He was, simply. just like this. Perhaps he wasn't like this always, but at least when he was passionate or emotional. She let him pull himself away, but - to her own surprise - with a little disappointment. She hadn't thought she would, but she'd enjoyed the hug - perhaps a little more than she should have done. He spoke of his heart, and of promises. As if they were lovers - or at least these were things she imagined lovers would talk of. He was standing over her again now, and she regretted that she hadn't made him shift for her after all. Or that she did not have the same form as him. But she was too weak for shifting. She wished she - too - had arms. His height made her uncomfortable, feeling even weaker than she was. Her green eyes looked up at him as he spoke again, and secretly she wished he would just sit down with her.

His face spoke of what went on in his mind as words about the war left her lips. She decided against telling him the details. What would he think of her if he learnt that Haku had murdered innocents? Or, partly innocents, but still. She didn't want him to think badly of her, and she was surprised again, by her own feelings. Normally she didn't care what strangers thought of her. He spoke of loyalty, and she nodded to his words as she replied. He might not be a fighter, but loyalty could sometimes best even the best of fighters. Thank you - what more was there to say? She was rather astounded at what he was doing, and also the fact that despite them being complete strangers he trusted her so instantly. She didn't know what drove him to do this, but she was curious. She didn't ask, though. Instead, she found that her nose acted of its own accord and gently nudged his hand where he stood, for the third time surprising her. She realised she wanted the embrace back. She pushed the thought away, there was no time to think about it right now, and it intimidated her anyway, so she was better off not thinking about it at all. She felt weary, and the sun was going to be on its way downward in not very long. She didn't want to be out when it was dark; she was too weak to see anything coming, and darkness didn't help. She attempted to get up standing, and as she did so she nearly lost her balance; one of her legs had not wanted to do what she wanted. She managed not to fall and eventually she stood steadily again. Once she did stand, she said nothing, but she looked at him in a way that told him not to comment. She was weak, yes, but she was no helpless child. She had enjoyed feeling like one, though, when he had embraced her, but that thought could worry her later.

Her wish for him to sit down with her came to be in a way, as Lubomir's form crouched down to level his face with hers. A hand touched her muzzle, as if it responded of its own accord to the nudge it had received. She could see him better like this, and she found herself staring at his face. It was odd, to her, that he could be this trusting, and open, yet without her finding a trace of dishonesty in his face. The ivory femme found a response to the trust he was showing her, rising in her, mirroring that openness he was showing. She could find no distrust for him, despite how she normally acted with strangers. It took a long time for her to trust people, possibly because of her broken family. She'd never had strong bonds to anyone, perhaps except Haku, and even though she might be creating and fortifying some lighter bonds these days, she still didn't find it easy to trust others. Haku she could trust, but that was everyone she knew, really. And one other, one she had met during her travels, the reason her world was going to change before Ashpyxia ruined it. Still, he was different from anyone she'd met. She'd trusted him, but there had not been affection, not from him or to him, in her world. They had never connected mentally, it was just an act, part of a ritual. This was.. different, but she didn't dare call it connection. It was just astounding openness, and trust. It was something she didn't know, nor how it felt.

Obviously her poor mastering of her legs hadn't gone unnoticed. He spoke of carrying her, and his arm was around her again, though differently. She stood there, for a split second frozen in terror. It wasn't fear for him, it was fear for the fact that she just realized she had no control. She couldn't control her behavior at the moment, proven by the fact that her body had acted of its own accord, without "consulting" her mind. Mixed feelings. Some confusion, and some pride bubbling to the surface. Carry? She wanted him to walk her home, but carrying her was overkill. She wasn't an infant, nor an old cripple. She would walk herself, and was quite indignant that he had suggested she wasn't able to. Her body pulled away from his arm, and she shook her head and neck, fur flowing here and there before settling. Green emeralds studied his face for a second or three before she responded, and when she did her voice was quiet and sincere. Even though he was an odd one, she didn't say no thanks to company on the way home. Any idiot could kill her in her current state, it was safer to have him along. She just hoped he wouldn't put too much meaning into it, after all, she did mean to simply walk home, and then he would be on his way. There is no need for carrying me, my legs still work. But you can walk me home if you want to, it's not that far.

Strange words exited his mouth, but she understood the meaning. She'd read enough lyrics of religious songs in the books she had found in various places during her search. Angel. She was hardly an angel, and compared to the beauty of her little ones she looked frail, old, and weak. She was neither of them though, luckily. The young always won in comparison to the generation that gave them life. That was how the world worked. Mew turned her white face to smile at him, and it was genuine. Often she smiled for the sake of politeness, and often she smiled to make people believe she meant what she said or did not think badly of them. On rare occasions she smiled for real, and this would be one of them. A darkening of the cheeks appeared, only visible because of her light fur. Had it been any darker, the blush would have gone unnoticed. Quickly, she turned her face again, looking forward as she started to walk. Her four legs moved steadily, but not quickly, along, as if on a Sunday stroll. She didn't have energy for a fast pace, and neither did she want him to leave just yet. Even though the femme sort of did want him to leave as well. She felt strange.

Lady, angel. All these names. It was as if he was simply trying to charm her. But she trusted him, and she knew he was not after deceiving her. More than often she could easily read dark intentions in strangers, and even though she trusted him already, she considered Lubomir a stranger. After all, she didn't know anything about him. They had spoken of their misery, but none of them had spoken about who they were, personally, or their parents, their life. So in reality, they knew that they had both been attacked, but that was as far as their knowledge went. Aside from, of course, whatever hints dropped from one to the other with simple gestures and touches. As they were walking the forest slowly became less thick, and here and there a rooftop or two popped up above the vegetation. He was from Shadowed Sun, and he had been attacked by the coyotes. But who was he? He didn't seem to be a relative of the ones who had come from the old lands, but perhaps he came from somewhere she had visited? His behavior certainly was strange to her, persons around here were very casual and it took time to get to know them, but he was passionate and open. She asked, gently and calmly. Words coming out of her mouth like pearls on a thread, trilling. So who are you really, Lubomir? You certainly aren't born and raised here.. She turned her face to look at him as she spoke, politely, but also to see his reaction. Green emeralds played with the little light that was left of the day - the sun was quickly melting away - sweeping across the dark fur and ending at his eyes.

His whole being seemed to change, very briefly, before he replied to her question. Almost as if a shadow suddenly flew across his face, before the light just as abruptly reclaimed it. As he was speaking, they kept walking along, and her eyes was fixed on his form. She studied a number of things. His pelt was unlike hers, but probably more natural. There wasn't much snow in their packlands, so in summer it was useless as camouflage. Then again, her mother had come from the north, of the same continent as he, where they all had white fur, spoke norwegian and there was snow. His fur seemed to fit better. Also, his size was small compared to other wolves from the other continent she had met. There had been quite a few. Once she had found (what they called) a "colony" of them, where they had boats and buildings they had made themselves. They had been quite a fair bit larger than Lubomir, but then again Mew herself wasn't big for a female werewolf. Size could be very individual.

What he said let her identify herself with him, as his story was so like hers, in a way. He, too, had lost everything. And he, too, had traveled alone. His past did not make him who he was, however, and it was not that she had meant when she asked. When he said he had been a bard, her eyes lit up, and another smile divided her face in two. His former profession surely held clues as to who he was as a person.

Not interesting? You were a bard! She, too, had been a bard, for a small amount of time, back in Clouded Tears. She'd told stories to the puppies, and sometimes played them music, or anyone else who wanted to hear music. Often stories and music combined, and often stories with moral and advice for how to live one's life. Some thought it odd, but Mew had loved it. And so had the puppies. I was a bard when I was just over a year, until I left the pack to travel. Mostly I played music and sang, but there was some storytelling. Is that the same activities you do, or.. did as a bard? She had stopped with the stories, but she could never leave the music. Her guitar and the few books about music were the most precious things she had in life, besides, perhaps, her children's grave. She stopped for a little second, cocked her head to the side, before she spoke and started walking again, still her eyes on his. She was tired and she needed sleep, but didn't want to hurry. His presence was calming, yet it also made her nervous in a strange way, and.. she didn't know. But she didn't want to send him on his way home just yet. My mother fled here from a place in the north of your continent, I think. They look like me and speak norwegian. Do you know where it is? Her face was all curiosity, the timeless, child-like kind. Not inquisitive, not investigating. Just pure lust for knowledge.

More names for her, more hidden compliments. She didn't mind, nor did she care particularly for them. The female was neutral to them; words didn't mean much to her. They could hold so much love and caring, and still be deceitful, shaped to make you believe things that were not true. Words were simply means for communication, but there was communication far more truthful and genuine. Harder to lie with. It was that language Mew liked to rely on when meeting others; body language. Lately she'd opened up to people easier, but she was normally quite quiet, letting her body take care of signals and reactions freely. It would show persons who she was, but she did also mask it when needed. When speaking to persons she didn't like, or when she was feeling humiliated or humbled. Now, however, she did not mask anything. It was in the open, anything she felt would be revealed through her tail, her ears, and the way she held her head. Small hints that she herself did not even know about. She was enjoying his presence more than she knew.

He talked of cities. She'd seen a village, but a city? Did he mean cities like the one in the old territories - the old abandoned human concrete jungle? She couldn't bring herself to believe that was true. Yes, they had the ability to change and use the tools of the human race; hands and arms, but to behave like them? Wouldn't just history repeat itself? The wolves had survived the catastrophic disease that killed nearly every human being alive, perhaps it had been the wrath of the gods. She could understand that one would feel drawn to the immense amounts of information the species had obtained and learned to use, but in the end they were not human. And they would never be human. Their instincts intact, a wolf should never start behaving as something he or she is not, and particularly not the instinct-wise backwards humans. Their hunting abilities were so poor they started to breed their prey instead. It would be sad to see wolves go that way in evolution. Yet, the thought was enticing. Imagine all the knowledge of music, all the things one could learn! The thought gave her chills - both the good and the bad kind.

He spoke as if she had been there. Perhaps it was such a city Colibri came from, and Hanna. They'd never spoken of it. They could have come from a pack alike the packs here, freeroaming natural beings. Or a city of werewolves.. Nevertheless, Mew was born and raised here, and had never seen anything like what he was describing. Apart, perhaps, for that "colony". They were different in line of thinking, the wolves from the other continent, but it all boiled down to the same thing in the end. Survival, and the survival of one's closest. He had been the brother of the alpha, and a person of wisdom. Her bard position had been nothing like that, she had been entertainment - and not very good entertainment at that. But it wasn't as if she had needed a city or an alpha sister to learn to read and write. With some practice, nothing was impossible. I've never been there.. I was born on this continent, grew up on my own while I traveled. So I've seen a thing or two, but never those lands. Her voice fell quiet as her mind drifted off, thinking. What if she had asked to come with the ones with the boat, in the colony, to the other continent? Where would she be? Her children would be alive, and her life completely different. And now she was alone, and at war... What-if's didn't give her much, but she couldn't help but think of it. She kept walking, but her green emeralds were no longer focused so intently on his eyes; they were drifting away in thoughts no one could see.