he who strikes

POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 8:46 pm

Against the endless blue of the sky there was only one interruption, and Oberyn was not foolish enough to chance looking into the sun even though he often found himself looking up as birds passed overhead.

Though he was a tall wolf, the grass reached to his belly and in some places even further. Oberyn delighted in places like this, for he liked to dart about and hide. He was becoming very good at this – he had been learning from a young age and despite now lacking true purpose, pushed himself to perform well. Alone, it was easy to forget the pressures of being watched and having people worry about him.

His head no longer hurt as it had, but his dreams remained strange things. Disturbed by them, Oberyn often went further and further, seeking to free his mind by exhausting his body.

This worked most of the time.

His paws ached a little, and he had been thirsty, so when he found the stream that led from the lake Oberyn settled to rest.

That's what he had been doing when the she-wolf appeared.

Oberyn saw her before she saw him. Closer to the edge of the shore the black shape was out of sorts in the unforgiving sun. She was not entirely black – white speckled her face and chest, suggesting her age the same way her lean frame did.

They regarded one another for a few long moments before she hurriedly drank from the stream. Oberyn got to his feet. Slowly, cautiously, friendly signs were exchanged. He approached her with a new edge. He didn't know if he had ever been this way around strangers before, but it seemed so reasonable now.

Are you from around here? She asked him. Her voice was lower than he expected.

Sort of. Are you?

No.

What are you doing here?

I was looking for water, was her obvious answer. Oberyn grunted a little and she sniffed deeply at the air between them. He stepped forward to do the same, though stopped when something off about her's muddled the fresh air between them. You smell like others, the woman told him.

I live with others.

Do you?

Petite Cour
Éclaireur
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Mel
Luperci Not what I have, but what I do, is my kingdom.

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