WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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All the white female could remember was that she was hunting and then, then....her daughter was taken. Kidnapped. Stolen from her. Her white hands clasped her fithr necklace around her neck, and her once tamed hair was suddenly ratted and ruffled on her head, the white and tan color was splattered with blood and painted over with dirt and grime. She was walking aimlessly, her feet dragging. Or what she thought was aimlessly, she was headed for her old pack-lands. Somehow her body was on auto-pilot, keeping her going whenever her feet bled from blisters of non-stop walking in the cold snow. She had to find her. Had to find Aani.
Blue orbs were blood shot, she hadn't slept much in a little over a week now. Every time the exhaustion took over and she passed out, Carya was awoken by the sounds of her own self screaming. Whenever her daughter had been kidnapped they had been hunting, and she hadn't realized she was kidnapped because a mother moose had attacked her, cutting her left arm from the shoulder to her chest, and giving her a good knot on her head that remained for several days. She passed out and remained that way for at least five hours.
The skin was beginning to heal on her shoulder, the chest was scabbed and bloodied still, from her idly picking at the wound in a seemingly tragic way. Her head wasn't knotted anymore, but she still felt delirious. Perhaps it was from lack of sleep, that and her temper remained short and her attitude grim. She found herself wandering near her old pack-lands of Vinatta today. Shuffling and calling out for her lost child. Aani? It was a repeated verse every twenty or so minutes. Ears flickering on her head and the limp she had from when the earth quake hit, making her appear like a feral wolf.
She paced back and forth, for what seemed like minutes, but in reality was hours, mumbling to herself and appearing like a crazed wolf to anyone looking in from the outside. Odin and Thor. Help me. Hear my pleas, for everything my Gods you are. Please. Aani. Please. Where is she? She said out loud, pacing, her right hand clasping her left elbow, the signs of infection starting in the shoulder. She didn't care. She needed her baby.
Bring her back to me! Screaming, the pacing stopped. Her body was exhausted and dirty and bloodied knees hit the ground with a thud, she remained upright for now. Her head hung as tears spilled from her eyes, tattered and bloodied arms hug her body closely as she cried hard, body shaking. Bring me my baby back! Screaming, her body collapsing forwards as she beat her fists into the grounds of what was once her home-lands. Tears streamed down her face, the ground tattered in snow made mud and the blood from her newly injured hands splatter across her face and body.
Absent-minded she knew she was safe in these lands. Safer than she felt anywhere else. Aani!
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At the sound of the first sob came within earshot, Calan had uncontrollably shivered. What he heard sounded so raw, so animalistic, that it was hard for him to process exactly what he was hearing. "What was that?" he asked his mare, scanning the forest for disturbances. For a split second, the trader had wondered if he’d heard an honest-to-gods ghost.
And then he’d heard the second scream, and he knew that whoever was making it was real. Very, very real, and very much in pain. His whole body went into autopilot as he steered himself in the direction of the sound, racing towards whatever he may find.
He was quick to dismount - so quick, in fact, that he didn’t even bother to tether his horse to anything, putting all of his trust in her staying nearby. All that he could think about was stopping this woman on her self-destructive path. The blond had flashbacks to a life beyond this one, one that he had tried his best to suppress, but he couldn’t escape that irredeemable urge to step in. If he could do it right, just this once…
"Woah, woah, hey there!" Calan dropped down directly in front of the sobbing wolf, hoping that his voice and presence in her periphery would ease any shock at his sudden appearance. With only a moment’s hesitation he reached out for the woman’s wrists, keeping them from smacking against the rough earth. Pebbles stuck into the sides of her palms, piercing the delicate skin. That, more than anything, was the image that stuck out in his mind; not the mixture of blood, snot and tears streaking her face, nor the frenzied, not-quite-there look in her eyes. No, it was that soft skin, indented and bloodied, that made his heart sag. He forced his crystalline eyes to meet her own, even if she still wouldn’t look in his direction.
The world had muffled itself, honing in on them and their racing heartbeats. Not even a single bird seemed to chirp in the background. It was only the two of them. "I need you to breathe for me, alright?" he asked. It was less of a question, more of a demand. Calan’s grip tightened on her wrists ever-so-slightly, hoping it would bring her back to the present moment. "One…out….Two…out…" the dog continued, taking long, exaggerated inhales and exhales to accompany his words, all the while hoping that the sandy she-wolf would follow suit. Even if he was internally panicking, he refused to let it show. What she needed was strength; for once, Calan could provide it.
There was nothing but ringing in her ears as she sat throwing her fists at the ground. Her delicate skin was decorated with blood, and rocks. Blue eyes stung sharply with tears, and she felt herself swallow back a sob. She hadn't noticed him approach her, and didn't feel his hands on her wrists, until she tried to throw them towards the ground again, and bit back a startled sobbing-yipe. Her blue eyes shot up to his face immediately. Sandy ears flattened on her head, and what should have been a growl, was instead a half-sob, half-screech. It was probably a deafening sound to the other's ears, but Carya didn't care. Her mind went one place, and one place only. Aani..
Like a bolt of lightening had hit her, Carya's mind was back to reality, and she was staring at a hybrid, much to her own background of dog and wolf, whom was the color of sunshine. Peering up into his eyes, he wrapped his much larger hands around her wrists a little tighter, and she shuddered back another sob. Where is my baby? A miserable sound in her throat, her voice cracking. Carya focused on his face, her arms slinking through his grip, and aiming to wrap herself around his neck. He was here, by the Gods they sent someone to her.
If allowed to do so, the much smaller female would bury her tear and snot stained face into his shoulder, curling her body closer to his, in a snake-like manner. Listening to the sounds of his breathing, for there were no words that she could comprehend. It was as if she was deaf, her sorrow etched in the shuddering of her body, as she would dig her claws and hands into the thick fur on the male's neck. Before the Aston knew it, her ragged and harsh breaths, were soon calmed. She didn't feel any better about what had happened to Aani. However; her heart wasn't beating as fast and she wasn't about to pass out from hyperventilation, anymore.
Taking a deep breath, her breath caught a few times in her throat, as she hiccuped back the pain and dolefulness. Her ears flattened upon her skull, as she sat clinging to this complete stranger, her bloodied body slinking closer. Where...Where.... She stared, and muttered into his shoulder. I... Her words fell flat on her tongue as she bit back another grief-stricken cry- instead- she shuddered with pain. The sorrow wracking her entire body, and her tail sagged against the ground, her hands desperately clinging to his back and mane. Aani. She muttered into his white fur.
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"That’s it…. Keep breathing." Tears, hot and muddled with snot, soon soaked through the golden fur protecting his neck. The woman’s sobs grew muffled as he, too, wrapped his arms around her lithe body, supporting her non-existent weight. His eyes focused on the trunk of a birch tree behind them without really seeing. The only thing on his mind was the image of her blood-shot eyes, red against the bright blue.
Normally this kind of thing would turn Calan right off; he had little to no patience when it came to comfort. But this was different. This wasn’t a friend crying after a petty breakup, or a pity party after a booze-filled night: this was someone who clearly needed something to anchor themselves, or risk sailing away forever. As his grip tightened imperceptibly around her shaking shoulders, he knew that moving away was non-negotiable.
It took several minutes for her to come to. Calan had kept his grip on her firm, murmuring encouraging words here and there. Her screams had felt like they vibrated through his whole core, filling him with his own kind of second-hand sadness. Distantly, he almost wished that he could experience this kind of cathartic grief. Why couldn’t he cry about his mother in the same way? The thought filled him with a complicated bubble of shame and guilt.
When she finally spoke, her voice crackling with effort, it was only followed by more pain. Aani. The name meant nothing to him, but clearly meant everything to her. He didn’t push her further. Though she curled in further, her nails digging into his long, soft fur, the blond continued to talk in the same reassuring tone. "You’re west of Amherst, about twenty miles or so. An easy ride. This forest doesn’t have a name, from what I know. There’s a lake a little north of us that looks quite beautiful around this time of year." He allowed himself to ramble, hoping that the sound of his voice would further help to soothe this frenetic wanderer. "I was heading my way west to trade when I ran into you… There, keep breathing, just like that… Do you have a horse? Are you stranded?" Yes or no questions, he surmised, would be the best way to go to get the information he needed.
His blonde body was comforting, in any other situation, Carya may have thrown herself at him a sexual manner. Rather than this sobbing terrible mess that she was. As she slowly calmed down in his arms. There was another threatening round of silent sobs that made her heart beat faster and quicker, her ears ringing again. Left alone with her thoughts, as he held her tight, she couldn't help but scrunch up her tear and bloody face, when the tears poured down again on the back of this male. Slowly, the tears stopped again, within minutes, she was rocking like an ocean. Carya found herself calmed down, yet again and only hiccuping every so often, choking back the sobs that threatened to make another appearance.
She didn't even know his name, and here she was making a fool of herself, clutching onto his fur and skin and soaking up every ounce of comfort he would give her. The soothing voice of his was soft on her ears, and it seemed to help calm down her trembling heart and body more, and more. Amherst. Yes, that much the elder female did know. In any other state that she may have been in, she would have scoffed at him. Instead, Carya let out a big breath, and almost found herself chuckling. Y-yes... She started, her hoarse voice crackling at the end. She buried her head into his shoulders again, voice muffled by his coat, squeezing her eyes shut. I-I know.... She knew where she was, hopefully he understood that, at least.
Blue iris' squinted open, suddenly feeling very sand-papery. So he was a trader? Her too, at one point in her life. He was distracting her, and it was actually working. White fingers sort of petted his back, in a comforting motion to herself, ears dropping on her head. His next words flowed over her ears, and she paused before answering, letting her grip on him go a little bit. Leaning back in his arms, kind of like a baby would be held by their mother, she craned her face up to look at him and study his face. He sure was handsome.I-I... She trailed off, her breath and voice ragged in her throat. No. I... She paused again wracking her brain for where her horse was. He was somewhere in this Country, that much she did know. I don't, r-really...k-know wher-re he is. Voice stammered from lack of food, and from crying so much.
By the gods she probably looked like a disaster right now. Her hands that bled freely, went to rub over her entire face, from eyes to her maw, leaving a small trail of blood in their wake. I-I'm...not stranded... Carya Aston was officially down for the count her entire being hollow, and her voice void of any emotion except, sadness. M-my... She breathed letting the calmness of his proximity to her over-come the fear rattling through her rib cage like a posion. Daughter, she's... Voice dipped low, and slow. Gone. Carya couldn't help but to bite her lip, in order to not scream and cry out again, her head now lying on his shoulder, her left hand stroking a pattern into his chest fur.
The Gods were watching over her. And her mind? Somewhere in the black abyss that was settling to become depression. She wasn't hungry, but she should eat, and her stomach growled out loud enough for both of them to hear. Ignoring it, she sat in his lap, her tears no longer flowing down her face, but the feeling of nothing hung in the air like a heavy fog.
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So she knew where she was. That was a good start. But she had no horse - or at least, didn’t know where they may have gone to. Calan parsed her answer, pursing his lips in thought. Was it worth it to try and find him? Or was it better to just take her into Amherst? His hand cradled her right shoulder blade, feeling the ragged breaths through her back. There had to be someone in town that would be able to better help her than he could.
Calan wasn’t a medic, nor did he know the first thing about healing. She needed actual help, and not from layman who knew a thing or two about panic attacks from unfortunate personal experience.
As she calmed down, Calan became aware of the creeping sensation that stiffened his muscles. At first it was nameless, but as he noticed it more, he realized what it was: discomfort. He was genuinely uncomfortable being this heavily relied on, and by someone who was so… unpredictable. There wasn’t any other word for it. This woman was a literal stranger to him, and yet she had latched on so tightly to him for support. This dawning realization at his inner aversion only made him feel more uncomfortable.
Why on earth was he feeling this way? Couldn’t he just help and enjoy the feeling of helping someone? Why did he have to make such a big deal out of this? The merchant swallowed, that bubble of shame rising from his chest to his throat. He couldn’t tamp it down.
The rumbling of her stomach interrupted his inner panic, if for a moment. It was so loud and sudden that he could not only hear it, but feel it, too. He looked in surprise at her bloodied face, which only served to heighten the brilliance of her azure eyes. The sticky glassiness betrayed her dehydration. Reality seemed to settle once more, an invisible clock ticking. Keeping his voice calm, Calan murmured, "Wait right here. I’m just going to grab some things."
Slowly, as if her bones were made of glass, he disentangled himself from her grasp. The trader was quick to his feet, ignoring the ache in his knees from having crouched for so long. His legs buzzed with pins and needles as he marched towards where he’d left his mare… if she was still there. He sent out a silent prayer to any god who may be watching down on him.
He didn’t bother to hide his relief at seeing his horse there, waiting about where the blond had left her. She barely looked up as he approached, nor seemed to react to his immediate joy. His smile was sunny as he patted her warm flank, before walking around to rest his long muzzle against her own. "Thank you," he whispered to the mare, letting his eyes slide shut. She snickered, tail flicking. Apology accepted. The moment of gratitude passed, Calan reached for the saddlebag at her right side. He was sure to feed her an apple as he tied her reins around a nearby tree.
When he returned a moment later, it was with a few things in hand: a couple bundles, wrapped in rough cloth, a small wooden knife, and a couple waterskins. He sat down next to the tawny wolf with his makeshift picnic, letting out a sheepish smile as he did. "It’s not much, but… well, here. Bread, cheese, water, and… something stronger. Though you should probably eat, first," he conceded. His long fingers made quick work of the cloth ties, spreading out the simple spread. His eyes met her thin frame once more, taking in her bloodied hands, and with only the smallest of hesitation did he start to fashion her a sandwich, cutting bread and cheese with the knife. He didn’t quite trust her to handle the task alone. Or to handle something even remotely sharp.
So her daughter was gone. He didn’t have to be a genius to ask whether she’d come back. Her grief told him all that he needed to know. If she was alive, she was as good as dead to her mother, anyways. The Sitsina felt like there was nothing he could say to remotely comfort her. I’m sorry? It’ll be ok? Get over it? If someone had told him that when his mother had passed, he’d have probably punched them. Or worse. So he said nothing, hoping his actions would suffice. The silence felt heady and awkward, but Calan consoled himself with the knowledge that if this stranger wanted to say more, she would.
The sandwich he sliced may not have been aesthetically pleasing, but it was sustenance. He transferred it, plus the leftover cheese and bread, to one of the cloths. The other he doused with some of the water from the first waterskin, before handing it to her to clean herself. "I’m sorry that I don’t have anything more to help with… well, I don’t carry much first aid on me. I’ve got a couple cloths I can rip up if you’d like." He at least had the sense to look guilty about it. The blond made a mental note to remediate that when he got back to New Caledonia, now knowing just how patently stupid it was to go out without preparations.
Why did she cling to this stranger? Why was it so comfortable for her? The thoughts about what she was currently doing, was utterly throw to the back of her mind and didn’t register in the mind as something abnormal. Carya was beside herself. And truly not even herself right now. The wolf which was lying in the arms of the dog, wasn’t who the Aston female was on a daily. Seeing someone come to her rescue after she’d longed to find anyone to help her, was not unfamiliar with her either. After what happened with Judas she resorted to clinging to Lochlan.
She didn’t really understand what was going on inside her body. The combination of apprehension, alleviation, misery, and famine was starting to cause her body to shut down of sorts. Her stomach growled again, on cue. And the dog male, let her down with a gentleness, that she missed. It wasn’t because his presence seemed to calm her, the scent of him reminded her of her mother Tayui. That was what really calmed her if she thought about it, fully and with right of mind. If she investigated her heart enough, she could see the reasoning was because of the familiar scents.
Just as it would seem though, Carya wasn’t of right mind, currently. She sat patiently her azure eyes flickering back and forth while the blood stained her once, white and cream fur. When he returned to her, and quickly was to her side again, she wanted to reach out and hug him, but remained solid. She watched him cut the bread and the cheese, and partially wondered why he didn’t allow her to cut it herself. Her maw opened in protest, but then snapped shut as she watched his hands at work.
When he finished, she watched as he transferred the cheese and the cheese to one cloth then put the other cloth dousing it in water. Reaching out she washed her face and hands, because honestly, she didn’t really care about cleaning the rest of herself. There was no need, they were animals after all. Setting the rag on her leg, she let it rest on her old wound, and looked upwards towards the skies, before returning her gaze to the male.
Carya grabbed the bottle and the food from him, but instead of ushering to take it, she was gentle. Instead of listening to his warning of eating first, she downed the liquid quickly, letting it hit her throat with the familiar burning she knew all too well. She didn’t even wince, just gulped it twice and set it down. Next, she shoveled the sandwich into her mouth, swallowing it down with a cringe as she picked the liquor back up and chased the remained her of the dryness in her mouth away.
Th-thanks. The liquor calmed her senses, allowing her body to finally relax and brought some odd sense of tranquility to her. Feeling the numbness of her lips, she flickered a tongue out to lick the remaining liquid, cobalt eyes drinking in his form. Not hungrily, or creepy. Just admiring him as she sat across from him now. Not in his arms feeling his muscles, or the aching in her heart. Now, she was numbing herself. Carya pleasantly looked around, the liquor taking its familiar hold.
He had mentioned something about ripping up cloths. With a swallow, and a hand running through her mane, more blood was streaking in the fur. Oh, uh…yeah, sure. I-I She paused catching his eyes with hers. Yes. Please. She held out her hands towards him, either to receive the cloth or to let him place it upon her hands. It didn’t really matter to her at this point. Then she spoke again, her voice low. I-I'm sorry.
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Though it was only a layman’s perspective - for Calan would never, ever write himself off as a healer - it seemed like the she-wolf was doing better. Her pale frame held itself aloft as she watched him work, blue eyes soft in thought, while her hands rested calmly in her lap. Bit by bit, breath by breath, she seemed to be returning to herself.
She looked heavenwards for a moment - was she praying? - before accepting his offerings, moving with a slow dignity that contrasted starkly to her earlier, more frenetic, motions. But when she ate... well, one second the sandwich was there - the next, it was gone. Calan barely had time to blink before she’d downed the last of the flask, too. “You’re welcome,” the flaxen-haired dog responded instinctively, the words spilling out of his maw before he really had a chance to think them through. His mind was still processing the sheer speed at which she’d inhaled her meal. There was no way that was healthy. Should she offer her another sandwich? Would that only end up upsetting her stomach?
When she apologized, the flood of emotions that swarmed him could only be described as... maternal. It wasn’t pity, nor was it empathy. He felt for her, but in the same way he imagined he’d feel for a lost pup, or an injured bird. It was almost hard to remember that she was a grown woman. The man’s smile was soft as he handed her the cloth, trusting that she would be able to bind her own wounds. Absently, he wished he had some kind of tweezers to help with the rubble and debris.
Then silence cloaked them while she bandaged herself, bringing the stark reminder that they were nothing but complete strangers. The realization gave him pause. What if this was all some kind of trap? Or what would happen if she was the clingy type, and he couldn’t get rid of her? How true was her story, even? Guilt wracked his chest at these speculations, but the doubt lodged in his mind regardless, taking root. The blond looked back towards the woman, watching as she worked. He waited until she’d seemingly finished to ask his question. “Look, can I take you anywhere? To Amherst, maybe? Maybe someone there knows what happened to your horse.” It mutually benefitted the trader, as well - it’s where he’d been planning on going in the first place, and where he still planned on selling some goods that afternoon. He tried to comfort himself with the idea that he’d already helped her a lot, if only to feel a little less like he was giving up on her.
This strange male, spoke to her and the words fell flat on her ears. Her blue eyes flickered back and forth, and looked from his toes to his face. Oh gods, what have I done? He looks so uncomfortable, and he’s covered with my boogers and blood. Carya was so embarrassed how could she not be? She had just flung herself at another wolf without even thinking, and had covered his beautiful coat in boogers and blood.
He offered her that cloth, and she quickly wrapped her hands, not wasting any time, her eyes trained on the ground and not on anything else. She did this, and didn’t think, and now, she was some crazy wolf who was screaming about a child no one even knew. She was beside herself, and now, that brown liquor was hitting at a different level, and Carya blinked away her thoughts quickly, muttering a small thank you to the male, once again. He was so kind, Carya couldn’t thank her Gods’ enough. But damnit all, she had done given the wrong impression to this complete stranger.
Fuck. She needed to find a way out of this, and quickly. Her ears flickered on her skull, and he had looked at her looking more uncomfortable. Thinking quickly she downed the rest of the liquor and ate the rest of the bread and the cheese, scarfing those down as well. Should she keep the cloth? Or should she give it to him? The comfort was much needed, but somehow, she felt worse about the fact that she made a fool of herself in front of this complete stranger. She didn’t even know his name.
Ah, I’m..no. She answered his question, her ears flickered on her skull, backwards, then to the sides. I’m sorry. I appreciate you. Rambling she winced at her hand, as she squeezed it together with her other hand. She was unstable, and a little more stable now that she had liquor in her system and something to eat. How could she not be? Finally, she finished the rest of her response as she backed away from him, her ears pinning to her head.
I’m afraid, I have made a complete….fool out of myself. I’m so sorry, Mister. She sniffed again, wiping the boogers and the tears off her face, and looking towards the west. I have to find my daughter. Some really bad men kidnapped her. I don’t have much time. She glanced back towards him with a tear hanging in her eye. Thank you. Thank you. She couldn’t thank him enough. Perhaps she might have offered him something in return if she actually had anything, except her personal being. But she would not offer herself up to him casually, and without prior attraction.
Blinking, she turned her head to one side and blinked outwards. I need someone to help me, and I do not expect you to. Thank you for your compassion, though. With those words she would leave him to be on his way to Amherst, she couldn’t believe she was embarrassing herself like this in front of a stranger.
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That guilt still sat, heavy, in his chest as he listened to her refuse his offer for help with a shake of her head and a stream of apologies. He watched as she made another show of cleaning herself up, her posture ramrod straight. As she got to her feet, so too did Calan, his expression one of concern.
In some ways, this was not unlike comforting someone who got too inebriated after one too many hits. This woman was confused, spinning in circles, trying to pretend everything was normal. Pretty soon she’d fall into a cycle of self-loathing for letting herself get to that point, if she wasn’t already doing as much. Calan had a lot of experience with dealing with those types; even considered himself a little bit of a drunk whisper. He believed that he could get her to calm down, if only she was willing to listen to him.
“Please, don’t be. And call me Calan. That’s my name, after all,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, though his eyes made it his worry as clear as day. He didn’t fully know how much he believed her story about her daughter and the ‘bad men’, or whether she starting to lose her grip on reality once more. Would she really be alright if he left her here, or would her worry overtake her? She hadn’t come down enough for him to be certain of her sanity. The scent of fear rolled off her body in waves, assaulting his nose, and rooting him to his spot.
Calan reached out his hand in a placating gesture, hoping it would stop her retreat. “Please. There’s gotta be something I can do to help.” The blond kept his tone friendly but firm, hoping in doing so that she’d falter, realize her lack of plan, and take his suggestion to aid her. He turned his hand so that his palm was facing upwards, as if to reach for her own. His face glowed with a small, reassuring smile. “Let me at least take you where you need to get to.”
Calan was too kind for Carya's taste. Perhaps it was because the Aston female was used to other's being a big 'ol jerk face all the time. Pausing in her protest she glanced at him and looked him over completely. These lands were that of her old home, where she felt more at home than anything else. Why was he trying to take her somewhere? Was he trying to lure her away so he might harm her and do ill will to her? The thought crossed her mind and she flickered her ears atop her skull, momentarily letting the thoughts raise a panic within her chest. Taking a few deep breaths she steadied herself.
He came closer to her then, and the name was like liquid to her throat. She repeated it out loud, and then offered her hand. Carya. A simple statement and she would withdraw her hand quickly afte he shook it. Her heart hammered in her chest. Should she trust him? Should Carya Aston go with this man who she didn't know? The unfalterring smile he gave to her reassured her, and without care or thinking Carya hesitated in reaching for his hand. Blonde hand to blonde hand, she paused and cocked a brow at him. I...I used to live at the Commune of Salmon. Per-Perhaps, you can take me there? She blinked, and remembered it wasn't too far perhaps only a mile from here.
She finally, reached out towards his hand her own blonde hand taking his. It's only a mile or so, I...I have forgotten in my old age. Her body wasn't too aged, but yet, she didn't want to admit that she was too disoriented to remember the way to the Commune of Salmon. If she got there, then she could approach whomever resided there with propositions. Or whatever would happen. Hell, for all she cared, they could try and kill her. Until she had her child back safely in her arms she wouldn't rest. Carya's ears fell flat on her skull, and her blue eyes looked directly into those of Calan's. You smell of a familiar pack. An absent thought as she gathered her thoughts again, and flickered her mane that grew unruly. I used to live here as a child.
Pausing in her thoughts; she faltered and paused a single tear slid down her cheek. Her azure eyes glanced towards him, hesitating before she approached him again. Please, take me home. That's all she wanted to go, and all she wanted from him. Especially right now as she felt her entire world was crumbling all around her.
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it's totally up to you if you feel this is the end of the thread!
[+346]
Carya. The name had a pretty sing-song lilt to it, not unlike his own, even though the flaxen-haired wolf couldn’t say for sure that he’d ever met anyone called that before. It suited her well, as far as names went; but then again, who was he to judge? An unusual name for an unusual woman. Calan nodded his head in silent acknowledgement, watching as she extended her hand for a proper greeting. The motion felt strangely hesitant, especially when one considered that, minutes ago, she’d been gripping at him for what felt like dear life.
When she spoke again her voice carried that same restraint, but the tawny she-wolf finally seemed willing to accept his help. He was glad to hear that she’d made up her mind for her own best interests, and not just for the sake of avoiding debt to a stranger. Hoping to encourage her further, he greeted her directions with a warm smile. “It’d be my pleasure, Carya,” he soothed, finding himself reassured to feel the strength of her handshake when, after seconds of hesitation, their palms finally met.
He’d bent over to collect his supplies when Carya switched the topic of conversation. The blond blinked in delayed surprise. “Did you? I’m from New Caledonia. It’s just past the crest. We’re a new group, just barely a year old. Maybe that’s what you’re smelling?” Calan fought the temptation to sniff himself in front of a lady such as herself. Deep down inside, Calan felt a flash of pride for having been recognized as a member of the Realm. Yet another point towards feeling like he belonged.
The tear that rolled down her cheek didn’t escape his notice. He smiled, that feeling of maternalism surging once more, mingled with a tinge of pity. Calan felt tempted to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, but fought himself at the last moment, worrying that he’d overstep the bounds. “Certainly. Let’s get you home,” And, with the gentlest touch to her upper arm, he lead her in the direction of his awaiting mare.
