ooc: Secui Form
Leave. A cowards action. The sign of defeat, retreat, abandonment… or quitting. To leave without a purpose; these were all the explanations her beloved Shepard had given to her for the sake of this one word. To leave complication without a just cause with an excuse in its stead upon her lips… she could see the disappointment on her father’s face now. And she would have no explanation for him other than that she felt betrayed by the lot of them. She had gone against her own ideals for the sake of appeasing them and she could not bear to look upon their faces. Even to her own ears it sounded like a retched excuse… but she would not change it.
And the woman was bitter because of this, perhaps more so than the change of her conviction. She would damn that meeting and damn its outcome to address her own bitterness for forfeiting her resolve to another. Never once in her life had she dared to that and she felt terrible for falling prey to that temptation now. For the sake of making those weak fools happy…
The she-wolf stopped in her march, her eyes wide in silent horror as that terrible statement echoed in her mind. Weak. She would call her own pack weak? It was scandalous to berate one’s keep like that…despite how much truth there were to their words. Yet she did not feel regretful for her thoughts. What drove her would not let her, though her ears were cast down against her skull in shame and tail slipped humbly between her legs. It was true… the pack as a whole was weak and in a sense she had threatened their pillar of strength through demotion, rendering them for a short period of time helpless until her mind had been swayed. Perhaps had they been stronger, had they been like the warriors she knew and loved they would have understood her decision better and not turned their backs. But she could only assume…only hope… but never know.
Utterly depressing.
Restarting her pace she pushed on due south through the sparse patch of the familiar woods. Her heavy paws fell soundlessly as she walked on with her eyes blinded by velvet red leaving her ears the favored sense to guide her through the darkness. And yet without a through to invoke her she paused yet again, this time with ears erect and trained forward toward some distant sound. But what was it? It was not the rush of wings of the teasing of the branches by a fair wind, nor did she recognize it as the voice of an animal. It was too precise… too rhythmic each time it came to life in the air. Her sense danced anxiously as russet hackles stood on end at the nape of her neck and quivered. She placed a careful paw forward then called out softly, searching for a source and possibly a face willing to dispel her growing disease.