ooc:
Water. The source of life and the means to maintain it. And instinct demanded she take from it again and again. The amount of travel it took to descend the mountain to the Aldarto’K and back again, she might as well have travelled to Freetown and back no less than three times now. Her limbs began to ache after some time as if her very bones were under strain though she did not externally feel so different. It was by her habits that she felt the transition, now a good handful of weeks after the end of her season that the physical bond forged between the wolves of Sangi’lak and New Dawn. And of course, that fateful moment that sealed the Nomad lovers together.
Regardless of the growing pain and irritable habits undertaken involuntarily, the female had allowed herself to hope for the best. Anticipating that seed of life had taken root within her and from her patience and labor, new life would breathe the air of this world with lungs she helped create. Such a splendid hope would be the liberation from the tedious act of descending and climbing the mountain each and every day. Time and time again. That hope that life grew within her would give her the strength that was seemingly draining from her.
Having felt this constant loss of energy, the Issor had taken to increasing her exercises. Adopting whatever form she could manage to accommodate her day’s training until even the shift of muscle and bone so familiar to her became utterly painful after only a short period of time. As if the body were telling her to procure a single form and maintain it, she allowed her form to change less and less and eventually settled on the four monstrous limbs of the halfling form; swift enough to move with some of agility on four legs, but dexterous enough to still use the large digits to some degree. And she was quite glad for it, holding onto the body for strength more and more as she found it better catered to her repetitious act of gobbling water by making the trek that much shorter.
But this day when she was stirred again for the call for more water, she made the walk alone in record time but was not alone when reaching the glittering source of life. The scent of the eastern pack hung unpleasantly in the air, turning her nose away into her own pelt to recollect the scent of home before attempting to venture further. She turned her head back then with eyes wide, searching for the source of the scent mingling that with purity of the lake. Where were they? Was it one? Was it more? From the ground she was unable to see, but had there been eyes above…
Immediately, the Nomad raised her voice to call for her gleaming black and gold companion, beaconing that he be her eyes within the heavens to spy down on the earth and those that wandered it. The appearance of winged death was swift and quiet with only the gliding spot of black within a clear blue sky to mark its presence. Her companion hovered high, riding the zephyrs of the autumn wide with sharp eyes turned toward the ground searching for something beyond the gold shape lingering by the lake. And when he did speak, it was of something dark… something within the water. A head… a wolf head alive and moving to the edge. Stout ears came to immediate attention, folding forward to receive the sounds of churning water whilst her eyes glance across the crystal surface to follow its ripples. Her thirst was momentarily forgotten.