Dampwoods. Back-Dated to the 15th. Neela is in Optime form, while it isn’t mentioned her equipment and guitar are resting against the dirt wall mentioned..
Word Count → 465
Neela lay listlessly in the sand, one hand trailing in the small river that ran past the sandy hollow she was currently occupying, the sand was soft and warm and the sounds of the river comforting to one with such a strong affinity for water as her, yet Neela's mind was procellous, troubled enough that she was ignoring the brilliant orange of the sun as it just began to set on the horizon, something that she would typically take the time to admire.
Building the pier for the Meria lea had been hard work and so Neela had decided to head south into the Dampwoods area for some sightseeing and relaxing. Along the way it had struck Neela as rather ironic that she felt the need to leave her new home in order to relax, which was actually the cause of her troubles.
Despite being a member of the pack for nearly a month now Neela still didn’t feel as though she belonged in the pack, much of the time she felt like a stranger; impugning on the packs hospitality and waiting for the day when she was asked to leave. A lot of this stemmed from her past, so violent compared to the packs ideals and style of life.
Talking might have helped, but it was also the last thing she wanted to do. With her current insecurity she found the thought that one of her new pack-mates would actually accept her if they knew her past laughable. It seemed more likely to her that opening up to one of the Ichika would result in rejection, both personally and from the pack once the secret of her past became common knowledge.
Which left her here, out in the dampwoods on what was supposed to be a relaxing trip before she got to work exploring Westville for a suitable residence, yet had turned into a miserable trip after the lack of things to do caused her to actually think about her situation. Neela was suddenly dragged out of her thoughts by a tug on her trailing hand. Sharply the tugged the hand up and out of the water, feeling a satisfying pull as the now visible fishing line wrapped around a piece of leather on her finger went taunt. A quick reel inwards revealed a small, silvery fish attatched to the fine.
Neela busied herself for a few moments removing the hook and hanging the fish up above a fire she had set nearby in a small hole where the sandy bank met a sheer wall of dirt a few feet high, before flicking the line back out into the river and returning to her earlier position and thoughts, her eyes lazily watching the float of her line as it bobbed in the stream.
