Tiny flower, tough roots

Wabanaki Coast - Mouth of the St. John's River

POSTED: Wed Apr 04, 2018 5:41 pm

OOC→ Happy to be back! Looking for one to meet Yuka. :: Words→ 312

Her white paws seemed an off contrast to the muted brown and green of the grass still trying to shake off the grip of winter. She felt like a ghost in this place, her natural camouflage from her home in the high North not working quite as well here as it had between the snow and ice. Yuka had kept to the coastline the instant she’d found it, happy to be out and away from the trees that still creeped her out significantly whenever she saw them. Trees had been a monster once she and her family had first gone South enough to find them and she hadn’t been able to shake that off yet.

Amber eyes looked out across the St. John River and towards its mouth where it emptied into the Bay of Fundy. The ocean reminded her of the Kivalliq coast but she’d never seen one so free, breathing steadily in its constant rolling waves. Her ocean, the home ocean, had been frozen almost all year long and it was that thick sea ice she’d crossed with her pack to get to this corner of Canada. This was the start of her third month alone and she was tired of the silence.

The Inuit wolf had also refrained from shifting since they’d left the shore near Arviat. Luperci were rare in her area and she hadn’t seen evidence enough that the same wasn’t true here. Occasionally she felt a phantom ache in her muscles, a desire to shift and do things with her hands – carve, sew, replenish the charcoal staining her tattoos. They’d grown dull in the months since her aunt had touched them up before she’d left with her new mate. Realizing she was staring down at her paws as she thought, the wolf sighed and lifted her head, looking out again and listening to the seagulls cry.
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POSTED: Wed Apr 04, 2018 6:58 pm

Up the river, another white wolf thought of a frozen ocean too -- but it had been many years since she'd seen the ice floes, the stretch of tundra dotted with lichen and color-changing rabbits. Posey dreamed of it, though sometimes upon waking she couldn't quite remember what it was like, what it was truly like. Hazy eyes thinned as she took in the waves and sands, muddy white paws moving steadily alongside the St. John.

It was infrequently Posey left home now that she had one, but in between days of well-earned rest and relaxation she was tempted to roam. Just a quick jaunt, she had promised her hovering daughter, and went south where the river met the sea, opening up to a wide world of possibilities. Or at least to a bay.

She squinted. Were those islands drifting out there? Was that another ivory wolf standing on the shore?

Posey wagged her tail like a puppy and broke out into a clumsy lope, heading toward the arctic wolf with an exuberant yip of greeting -- as if the young stranger were an old friend.
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POSTED: Wed Apr 04, 2018 9:00 pm

Her eyes were turned away from Posey towards the ocean, but the yip quickly got her attention. The young wolf turned quickly to see an elderly wolf coming her way - an Arctic wolf! Unable to help herself since it'd been so long since she'd seen another that looked like her - at least, so long to her...three months was probably an extended nap in comparison to Posey. Her tail flagged high and waved back and forth mimicking Posey's.

"Aluu!" Yuka greeted in Inuktitut, friendly and excited to see the woman. Her next words came in heavily-accented English.

"Are you from the North?"

She pranced forward on large paws and leaned to delicately sniff the elder, her ears flicked back in reverence. In her culture Elders were the cornerstone of a community with their guidance, wisdom and knowledge. Yuka didn't have to know Posey or her personality to already consider her an Elder and make the connection in her mind between the old woman and her father's mother, her aanaq.

"I am Yuka."
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POSTED: Thu Apr 12, 2018 7:15 pm

The younger wolf wagged her tail when she noticed Posey – greeting her in a northern tongue that the elder hadn’t heard in years. She struggled to brush off the cobwebs from that corner of her mind, digging deep for memory of words and phrases that she’d parroted back to the arctic hunters and wanderers who had occasionally helped her during her time there.

“Katigatkit quvianaq,” she responded: pleased to meet you. The phrase came out clumsier than a native, but it was hopefully understandable.

Her tail wagged faster when the other sniffed her, and she brushed her muzzle lightly to neck and shoulder and scented the girl in return. “No, but I raised my daughters there,” she replied, smiling. “I’m Posey.”

The greetings done, she planted her rump in the sand and scratched at a tuft of fur that floated on the wind once dislodged. The mercurial weather made it hard for her body to know whether or not to shed. Thankfully, she had spent enough time in this general latitude that the mild early-spring weather didn’t feel sweltering as it once had.

“Oh you poor dear, you must feel miserably warm,” Posey whined when she realized this. “Why are you so far from home?”
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POSTED: Mon Apr 16, 2018 3:32 pm

Hearing her first language directed her way was a heartwarming experience, and it touched her straight to her core which surprised her. If she’d been capable of crying her eyes would be misty, but the golden orbs took in the site of this elder, her tail swishing back and forth steadily. The younger wolf moved closer, and pushed her nose into the elder’s coat to take in more of her scent. It didn’t bother Yuka when Posey said she wasn’t from the North, just the fact she’d spent time there and likely knew their customs was enough to make the yearling feel more at ease.

“Posey,” she parroted, grinning. “What a nice name.”

Following Posey’s lead, Yuka settled down on her own haunches and took another look across the river towards the ocean, smiling at the comment of the weather. “It is very different here than it is at home but at least the wind keeps the…mugginess…out of the air.” When she didn’t know a word in English she substituted it for Inuktitut, figuring Posey would pick it up and know what she was talking about. Her posture became wholly relaxed as though she was enjoying a chat with a family member, not a care in the world.

“My parents followed the caribou South and got to the point they didn’t want to go further South, but my brother had already branched off and I wanted to do the same,” she explained. “For a little while I travelled with my aunt but she found a mate, and so I kept going, until I got here. I’ve been on my own for three, four moons by now…and it’s starting to bother me.”

The truth flowed from her lips readily, feeling no reason to hide her reasoning for coming here from the woman.

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Northern Tides