to know to little is wisdom

[Thoirní Síondaite]

The silvery male had taken up residence with the rest of the pack in the living quarters but a small part of him still required his solitude. He had found a old foxes den a few miles away from the main quarters, far enough that he could have his moments of silence but close enough to hear the call of his alphas if he was needed. While this was the life he had been craving there was a small part of him that still liked the quiet nights under the stars alone and the sound of rain pattering on the soils overhead, knowing that no one else could hear you and that you could breath without worrying about bothering a brother or sister. He was a creature who belonged in a pack, but he was also a single male who longed for his own creature comforts at times. Settling down in his own home away from home seemed like the perfect venture to keep his self appointed status of lone wolf, until he could fully accept the closeness of so many bodies.

He had spent the morning clearing out the old leaves and dulling his nails on the frozen earth as he extended the size of the entrance to his little getaway. His face, chest and forelegs were spattered with the rapidly thawing raw earth from the heat of his body and the friction of his constantly moving paws. He knew he should be hunting for the pack or checking the borders but he had decided that today would be a day to give himself a breather and a place to think. He didn't think his alphas would mind but he wouldn't know until they found out about his new den. He hoped it wouldn't be cross words and reprimanding when Zalen or Titania crossed paths with the subord next. Only time would tell though.

The male plopped down in front of his half finished den and let the weak sunlight trickle through the leafless trees to find his silvery frame. The male half closed his eyes and just listened to the sounds of the world settling into winter.

[Deuce Rhiannon]

She had spent the morning memorizing the layout of the pack lands. She would have to see what she could do about transplanting some lavender into the packlands. She yawned and stretched, then shook herself. Using the Lupus form was making her scarred leg ache, especially on nights when the snow fell in large wet clumps. She had hoped using it more would help it by stretching the muscles, but the limp was still pronounced.

A sound caught her attention, the sound of wet dirt and leaves hitting the ground. She made her way to where the sound had come from. As the pale male came into view, she dipped her head politely, dredging his name from the memory of the first pack meeting. "Thoirní. You look well. I hope I am not intruding?" Her voice was polite and warm, as if they had been friends for far longer than they actually had known each other. She doubted if he would even recall her, though she supposed she was fairly recognizable as she was.

She stood a polite distance away, poised to slip away if he intimated that she was in fact disturbing his solitude. She wondered for a moment why she hadn't seen him around too much. Perhaps it was just because he was one of those who longed for their own solitude, even within the confines of a pack. Given the dirt staining his snowy pelt, she assumed she was correct in her thoughts. She shuffled her feet for a moment, then spoke softly.

"If I am bothering you with my presence, you can tell me. I understand the wish for solitude." Her face implied that she wouldn't blame him if he wished her to walk away, but it also vaguely hinted that she would like to visit, that she was feeling lonely and misplaced. And perhaps the Rhiannon matriarch was feeling a little out of place here. She didn't mind sleeping in the pack den, she didn't mind the posturing, the hierarchy. She just missed having her own space, her knapsack and her books. Knowing what she was coming to, she had left them all behind. Still, she missed writing in her journal, sketching pictures of family and friends. It was hard to remember that though the optime form wasn't outlawed here, it was discouraged to involve oneself in things that were overly humanistic.

((WC: 397))