A nice slow-paced thread! WC:308It had taken her several days to slowly make her way to the coast. After her frightening encounter with the northern pack's sentry, Colibri was particularly careful to skirt around the borders of the claimed territories. She knew there was another pack near the beach here, but their scent markers were further down the coast so it did not concern her. What was more troubling was that she could not seem to find any signs of Dahlia de Mai... Had they disbanded? Cercelee and her piebald mate must never have returned, but... hadn't Conor taken over after the war? The last time she saw her baby brother had been many seasons ago, but he had already grown into such a fine young man by then. An uneasiness settled over her, clouding her ice-blue eyes with doubt. Had something happened to him during her absence?
Colibri sighed, letting her legs dangle over the rocky cliff's edge. Her convalescing body had regained some of its former willowy grace, but there was still something ragged and weary about her. The salt spray of the ocean tasted fresh on her tongue, although the air here was cold with the late winter chill. She vaguely remembered this place, although it felt like a lifetime ago. Trapped between two packs, falling in love and having no one to talk her through it, fear of being destroyed by the man who sired her... The turmoil and depression had driven her to this coast, to try and escape. She rubbed the thin scars on her wrists, feeling them begin to ache dully in the briny air. She had done nothing with the life that green-eyed angel had saved for her. Perhaps she had been right all along, it would have been better if he let her die that night. Now she had blood on her hands.