the cold, suffocating dark goes on forever
#2
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500+


Cwmfen walked in the dark, still utilizing that bipedal form as she moved beyond the boarders of Inferni. Her mind was disconcerted, lingering upon the memory of that white and black form. Corvus Vendetta. Why had Fate brought him to her if not to make her suffer? And for what? The warrior had lived her life without dishonoring the gods, and she had never betrayed herself nor the pack in which she lived. Or perhaps she had. Perhaps joining that entity that she so loved had inadvertently brought danger upon them. Whatever Corvus would do, she knew that he would find her, would discover that she lived within the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. The Adonis did not want to risk it, and yet, as the warrior she had become that night in Haku’s arms, the Raven Dreamer could not run, could not avoid the matter. She must act and act soon if anything were to be prevented, if she were to be the protector of the pack that she was meant to be.


As the warrior walked, her movements silent and fluid, her arms unburdened by the weaponry of the vestiges of man, she found herself lingering upon the land where the terrain changed. Halifax was only beyond this intangible barrier, and within Halifax was a house.... and within that house... a man. The white orbs paused as they lingered upon the tall building silhouetted with a thick darkness that was darker than the nighttime heavens. But then she turned away. Now, the female could not be troubled with such things. The matter of the crow-wolf had come running hot on her heels, and if she did not keep moving, those jaws would snap about her life. With a wave of her tail, the female turned away and slipped into the forest, her gait swift and easy as she intended to return to Dahlia. But something caught her attention.


Blood.


The warrior turned suddenly, her nose lowered as the woman traced its still-hot path. And she knew this scent that intermingled with the red scent of this blood. Onus. Something gripped the warrior. Why? What had caused this. But she did not have time to sort through such thoughts as she moved quickly, no longer needing to crouch for the strength of the scent and the visible, darker trail at her feet. And then, ahead, the white orbs of the woad warrior saw a fallen form. Kneeling at his side, the woad bound fingers gripped the lapel of his coat, and her fingers found the blood, still hot and flowing to kiss her hand. That hand released him as if she had not expected such a thing to be relinquished by this Champion of Justice, and the white orbs sought the eyes that were shrouded by the mask. "Onus...." The alto melody was quiet as she reached out to him with her voice. Then gripping him my the lapels once more, she tugged gently saying, "You have to get up!" She knew that the wound was not one that she could lick and heal with simple herbs. She couldn’t see it, but she could smell the blood that did not stop, and she wondered if she had come too late.

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