you can't step in the same river twice

[Urma]

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OOC: I'm sorry this took me so long x.x ::Word Count:: 700+       The days were growing warmer and warmer. This came as a bit of a disappointment to the pale Crimson Dreamer, who had hoped to have her coat match that of the land a while longer. Although winter was not a season most preferred, she found it to be closely related to her, probably in view of the fact that it was the predominant time of the year in her homeland. Logical associations were made by the blanched female between the cold weather here and the one she remembered from Greenland, because returning to memories of her childhood lands was not something she found the time to do very often. More often than not, however, the ivory femme found herself thinking of the winter all around her as a pretext-- it kept her busy in her old, dusty thoughts, never once allowing her to question herself about why she was still here instead of in search for him, giving her puerile motives about the inaccessibility of the long journey and the perils she faced if caught in the middle of a snowstorm. Although these could have potentially been sensible reasons, Urma knew that deep inside her they failed to come across as anything else than simple evading techniques, meant simply to postpone her departure for a future time, whilst also struggling to convince her there was no one to go searching for any longer. In a sense, though initially driven by anxiety and feeling, her steps towards uncovering more clues as to Pilot's sudden disappearance had been slightly more of a pretext for the alabaster female to eventually abandon her quest without seeming as if she hadn't tried. It sounded selfish, if you thought of it that way, but it was nothing of the kind; the pristine-coated she-wolf was simply tired of all the frantic running around, chasing what everything else proved her time and time again was simply the ghost of the wolf she had known. Of course, her feelings for the white male remained, as steadfast and deep as ever, but when it came to her now scant emotional resources, she could not help but notice, with a lingering sense of having lost something very precious, that she was scrapping the bottom of her soul simply to find that extra ounce of endurance, while in the same time knowing full well that it would not suffice for the long wait that stretched ahead.       The alabaster femme was nearing the lands of a pack she had never visited before. Had it not been for the scent that grew stronger and stronger as Urma continued her way, she would have probably had a hard time noticing anything that would have given the presence of other wolves away, simply because she seemed to be approaching the borders from a rather solitary direction. Faintly, the female could hear a soft, rushing sound, like that of hundreds of birds taking flight at once, beating their wings in unison. It intrigued her, so she veered slightly off course, but only so much, her curiousity perked by the sound that, as she shortened the distance between herself and its possible source, proved itself to be that of running water. It seemed only obvious that a river would be somewhere around, and as she found herself on its banks, the scent of the pack just as strong in her nostrils, she wondered whether she had trespassed beyond this pack's borders without even attempting it. Despite worrying thoughts, in view of the unfamiliarity these lands possessed, the pale Crimson Dreamer could not help feeling drawn by the hurried, crystal clear waters of the small river. It seemed that being in her Optime form would help, so she crouched down and extended her fingers towards the water. The breeze, which had increased in intensity near the water, turning the air around her humid, made the colourful beads in her hair chink against one another. Engulfed by the song of the rapidly-moving water, their own sound went mostly unheard, sticking only to the ivory femme's pricked ears. She wondered whether she should howl, try to find something more about the pack in whose proximity she now stood, yet the fact that she knew nothing about these places stopped her. She enjoyed the river lapping at her fingers playfully, the thin spray of slightly foamy water settling on the fur on her face, and she knew that all packs would have someone on patrol, so that her presence could not go undisturbed for long. If it did, she would decide on what course of action to follow once she had tired of the magic of the river, whose waters were as changing as the tides at sea.

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