sell me SANCTUARY
#3
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;_; I pp'd that he found them near the big ceremonial fire heading further inwards; it seemed dramatic and nice, and it's in the village so it'd fit, no? Let me know if you want it changed.
Word Count: -


come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops


He'd been taking a nap. Or, rather, that is what he would have been doing had his mind let him. No, his thoughts flew in the directions they wanted to go, and Dawali had merely been dozing, falling slowly out of this world and into the world of sleep, but not. He sat up from his slanting seat abruptly when the signal reached him, urgent and desperate. Jefferson. Dawali had been greatly amused at their little April prank, and had since held the male in even higher esteem than he had before. Their two packs were allies, and this relationship was of great value to the red wolf. The male seemed very much able to keep his cool, however, and so the Kalona did not doubt even for a second that this was very serious business. Not wasting any time, Dawali strode out of bed immediately. He did not need to bring any belongings, for he always wore them, even when sleeping. Some liked to take their belongings and clothing off them when they slept, or so he'd heard, but it mattered little to him. Today, it paid off.


He didn't have to take many steps, and already as he took one outside his door he knew this. Jefferson's scent was strong, and Geneva's, too. He hurried, taking long strides and not bothering to wake Belle. Waking and preparing the horse for a ride would take longer than he'd spend running there. Rain crashed down at him and it muffled sounds when it met the paths that snaked the village. They were quickly turning into mud, but where water muffled one sense, it enhanced another. Their scents rode the water droplets, and Dawali knew before long that someone was hurt. There was blood on that scent, and he could smell a horse as well, smelling strongly of sweat. He hurried further, and after a few short moments he spotted them. In the glare of the great high flames of the sacred fire, Jefferson was mounted, and in his arms was the limp figure of Geneva. He could not see her face, but he could smell her clearly. Shouting out, should they not see him as he headed towards them, he sprinted now with one arm raised to call their attention. The amount of blood-scented air that reached him now worried him deeply, and he called out again, powerful voice battling the crash of the rain to reach the Patriarch's ears. "Jefferson! What's happened?!"

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