• Searlait
• July 5, 2005
• Luperci
• killibegs@gmail.com
The wind whistled through the trees, creating an eerie nighttime howl. The snowfall didn’t seem as steady as usual because of this; the gusts brought the large white flakes down upon the earth in spurts. Like an artery cut open. Searlait considered this for a moment, surprisingly with no shudder or recoil; her negative outlook never led her to startle herself. It had been this way for several months, this change in her; perhaps a year ago a comparison like that would have made her stomach churn. But that wasn’t the case anymore. She’d changed, for neither the worse nor the better – when was change one or the other?
The wind of the early night was strong enough to chill her, weaving its hungry fingers through the gray of her coat. She stood in a forest, and it belonged to someone. She’d been searching for two weeks now, finally fed up with life as a loner, with little to no connection to others. And her search had brought her here. In her non-shifted form, the one that she preferred, she’d been able to cover a lot of ground in those nerve-wracking two weeks. She didn’t know exactly how far she’d gone, but she guessed it had been quite a distance. She was somewhat proud of herself, an emotion she rarely felt.
These trees were eerie in themselves – the whole place was, but she supposed she enjoyed it. She could smell water nearby, and longed to wander toward the source of the scent to take a drink. But that could come later. She tried not to focus on the things she needed at the moment – a drink, a meal, to forget Cesaire. Instead, she planned out what she was going to say should she be found there, on the borders but trespassing nonetheless. She was oddly not too nervous; just eager to get this over with so she could figure out if she'd be able to begin to fulfill her needs. The silver-blue eyed girl began to impatiently pace between two large trees, leaving a plethora of prints in the snow as she did so.