Not sure what form she is, so play as if he's in the same. :] Word Count: 400

The can tah’s voice grew louder. Larkspur could hear it constantly, but the voice was strongest when he slept. At night, the wall between himself and the ini grew terribly thin, and were it not for the dream catcher he slept under then he did not doubt the demons would rush through and climb into the darkest corners of his mind. For now, though, he was protected by such things—resin and bone, bead and feathers. Misery had crafted him something beautiful, as she had left the eagle around his neck. Had he known that the feathers that he slept under belonged to the same bird, he would have found the symbolism in it grand and mystic. Larkspur not only saw paths in the world, he saw them in everything. The scars on Haku’s body, the way that the snow fell, he read these and knew them.

In the twilight hour that was approaching, Larkspur left his home behind to search for food. While he did not know much about hunting, he was managing due to his size and instincts to stay fed. The horse was left in her pen, and she too was feeling the effects of winter. While he had managed to secure grain from the city, there was not enough to keep her weight what it should have been. There was a need to return, though he dreaded the unfamiliar place and did not wish to go unless the need was great. Still, that would be soon. The black furred wolf grunted and lowered his nose to the ground, searching for any scents that would direct him further towards a meal. Surprisingly, after a twenty minute period, he found not only the scent of deer, but a woman. A woman that smelt a lot like Haku, he soon realized—at least, he caught the same scent on the wind, suggesting she lived within his realm.

Quickly, Larkspur followed it, and soon found the source; a striking black she-wolf with blue eyes, tearing into her dinner. Halting where he stood, the D’Angelo male said nothing, and instead watched her, the whispering can tah growing louder, as if trying to tell him exactly what she was. Sure enough, he could sense it, as he had sensed it from Haku; that radiating darkness that smelt of hot fever sickness and spoke of nothing but the madness that crawled deep inside.

Misery had nearly beaten it in his head as well; in maintaining his body to its peak. He was nothing without his strength, for his mind was weak and only strong because it was so thick. Larkspur could not read, and never would, but he had no use for such things. All of his survival was based on sight and recognition, and he knew things not by names but by their use. Unless they had been identified previously, he would not know what to call such things. Still, he understood the need to keep himself fit, as he had in the Khalif. If he was not healthy, he would be weak, and he could be hurt or killed. Certainly, his family would have destroyed him had he not spent three years learning to hunt, kill, and steal.

The woman, whose eyes were brilliantly cold, stepped over the deer. Though his hopes for an easy meal were lost, he did not show such a thing. Instead, his haunches sunk to the earth in an almost subordinate fashion, though his body language did not speak such a thing. Larkspur did not believe in alpha and omega as his fellow wolves might, recognizing authority only in those who deserved such a thing. This woman was not his greater, but his equal; few living deserved such praise, Misery a singular beacon among them. So he watched her, respecting her boundary. Still, he said nothing—if this was a waiting game, he would win, for Larkspur had gone for days (perhaps even weeks or months) without speaking a word.