Mists of time part for the unworthy

[p. Yuka]

POSTED: Thu Apr 05, 2018 6:40 pm

We’re the only ones who know

Why was he so far from home? Silvano stared into the trees around them, their limbs so reluctantly give up to spring foliage, though it was weak at best. For whatever reason, the weather refuse to relent and the wintry conditions seemed hellbent on persisting. Silvano found it odd, especially since his mind lost the trail of time, stuck somewhere his memories struggled to put him. He was not in the pack and he could not fathom why it was he left. He knew that there had been a reason but that reason was gone on the wind like a passing dandelion seed.

Silvano walked forward, then stopped, staring into space some more. Why was he out and about? There had to be a good reason, even if he could not figure out what that reason had been. He furrowed those brows of his, sighing deeply, as though it were more of an inconvenience than a truly concerning realization.

He knew something was wrong, for he could tell that he had been worrying family lately. That was a memory that seemed hellbent on staying in his head, even if he struggled to pull the faces of his youngest children into his mind at a moment's notice. Even a good round of focus was dull. He could barely recall them, or their names. He knew they existed, and it was the sharpest of pains in his chest to know he was forgetting his children.

"Heritage?" he called out, remembering his stallion. Where had the horse gone? He did not realize that he had no taken the horse. He had, after all, just walked away from the pack without a single thought.

Now, I've learned it's better living in the moment. Enjoy youth, cause it doesn't last.

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POSTED: Mon Apr 16, 2018 3:50 pm

The persistent cold and snowy weather did not deter Yuka – if anything, it made her more amiable.

She was built for cold, and as her paws trudged through the snow in their lupus, dainty form she was smiling, swishing her tail above her like a malamute might in a rare example of unwolfishness. Her paws were light and she had a brisk pace going, ears pressed forward and listening for the sound of any prey she might be able to take down on her own. With the cold snap the rivers had a fine crust of ice over their surfaces which made fishing a little more difficult, and after so <i>many</i> days of fish, she was hoping for something warmer.

As she moved through the forest, though, she heard footfalls and stopped, tipping her head to one side so she could listen. A male voice called out that sounded confused, if not distressed, and being the charitable soul she was the Inuit girl walked towards the voice, picking up her pace until the snow was shifting in a cloud behind her, almost camouflaging her from view in her own pristine way.

Finally, she came to a pause near a dark male with beautiful, striking green eyes – a colour she had never seen. All the wolves of home looked exactly as she did, but she had seen so many colour combinations since moving south that she chided herself a little for being surprised. Gently, she pressed forward and made a little sound in her throat to alert the male that she was there, since she was approaching from behind him.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

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