Whatever hope there was for accomplishment felt insignificant in the scheme of things. Rather what held merit was that something was being done rather than waiting idly by for change. By nature… no, by upbringing, the Nomad could not simply sit and let the seconds… minutes… hours waste away without a kind of effort showing for it.
And so she put herself to use. Leaving her companion to guard both den and charge, she ventured along the mountain path that connected peace and chaos on a delicate tether. An offering hung from her maw caught only hours before with its body still intact, not desecrated for its tail as a trophy. Her adornments were left behind and mane unwound and wild, resembling the naked form that was worn the first time she and her cherished friend had met. Such nostalgia was a part of her being and was not easily discarded because of conflicting ideals on part of them both. The forged bond between them was too precious to fester with ill will and the she-wolf was too stubborn to let it simply rot away. Mistakes had been made, ill tempers had been flared… but it wouldn’t be the end of them, would it?
The Exultare hoped not.
X’yrin bound down the slope of the mountain landing soundly to the crush of snow underpaw. She tightened her hold on the hare slipping her tongue from between razor teeth to lap the trickle of blood that fell from her lips. No sense in looking too wild, she thought rationally, smirking to herself in humor. After all, they had met on a more extreme circumstance, when the Endless Path was still her own and such things like grooming and bathing were luxuries. Perhaps her friend could look past her kempt state and be reminded of how they were before the complications of pack and rank came into play. Before their morals were brought into question… before any of this happened at all.