It was time to return from the festival, time to go back home to Cercatori d'Arte and the tribulations that faced her there. One could consider this trading mission to have been a success, but Orin wasn't so sure she could ever think of it so lightly. Would she tell her pack about the real commodity she had found to trade? It's not that she was ashamed, she quite liked it, but would they understand? Either way, she was trekking back to Cercatori with a far different bounty than what she had come with. Far less books, and far more varying items from the traders and admirers alike. She had even managed to purchase herself one of those strange little animals, the fat pink things, and was proud to be bringing it back to her pack. It was very young, small enough to carry still, which was a good thing because she had no idea how else she could herd the grunting little animal back to her pack lands.
So, if she was going home, why the hell was she here in the north? Stalling, of course. At first Orin told herself that she was going to make a stop at New Dawn to see her daughter, Titania, since she was already so far north. It would be a reasonable thing to do. But once she got near the lands she couldn't help but remember the words from one of New Dawn's own members... “Orin... I love you...” and her course changed after that. For a day she ended up lurking in the small space between Ichika and New Dawn. She knew she had no business here, though, and knew that she only had limited food for the piglet, and finally convinced herself that it was time to go home.
At sunrise that morning she gathered up her things and started off, heading south. There was much treacherous terrain ahead of her and the going would be slow, but she was sure she had given herself enough time. She hadn't been walking long when the piglet curled in her arms finally fell asleep and its grunting ceased. And that's when she noticed another sound...
Orin's ears perked and swiveled, her heart leaping into her throat. What was that? She turned, peering at the foliage around her. Had someone found her? Was someone angry that she was so close to their lands? Hopefully it was someone from New Dawn. There, again, the brush rustled, a stick cracked.
“Hello? Who's there?” She asked, and then realized it was silly to even think it was Luperci. It could have been an overgrown mountain rat, for all she knew.
Golden eyes caught sight of movement in the brush, and she eased forward slowly. No, there was something in there bigger than any rat she had ever seen, but, by the shadow, too small to be a wolf. Setting the piglet and her heavier packs down, she stepped forward on nimble footpaws. “Who is there? You can come out, it's okay.” But still there was no reply.
She could smell the scent of wolf, now that she was so close to the bushes, but there was no warning growl or bark. Something was off, something was wrong. Reaching forward, she parted the branches and revealed the concealed creature... a young wolf pup.
Orin gasped, one hand flying up to cover her mouth. She could tell with one glance that the pup had been neglected. Her eyes were dull and her coat was dirty and matted, she was thin and it was a wonder she could even stay warm. The eyes that looked upon Orin were sad, grief stricken and pained. This poor little girl was alone, suffering.
“Come here,” she crouched down and urged the puppy forward with her hand. “How did you get out here all alone, little one?” A mother to the core, she crooned to the child softly. There was a short hesitation before the child inched toward her on weakened paws. She had nothing to say, though.
“Where's your mommy or your daddy?” she asked, but the pup just dropped her head. Orin wondered if she even knew how to speak... but she seemed to understand her. She reached out and gently stroked the pup's cheek, reassuring her that she wouldn't hurt her. With her ivory hand on the gray cheek, the weak pup finally caught her scent, and Orin noticed the slightest flick of her tail, as though trying to wag but far too weak to do so.
Without a word, Orin leaped up and ran over to one of her packs. She still had two bottles of cow's milk there. Grabbing one, she was at the puppy's side again in a moment. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she scooped her up – if the puppy wanted to fight she was too weak – and turned her on her back, cradling her as she offered the milk.
The child must have been starving, (well, she WAS starving by the look of her ribs) because the bottle was gone in minutes, and it wasn't long before the warmth, full stomach, and safety lolled the frail pup off to sleep. Orin gazed down at her as she held her.
“What happened to you?” She whispered, so as not to wake her, and lovingly stroked her cheek. “Where are your parents? Your pack? What is your name?” A moment later, she felt something around the girl's neck, and she carefully adjusted the trinket so she could see, and gasped. There was no mistaking that necklace...
“Sarian?!” Her eyes went back to the pups face, round with fear and surprise. This was the necklace, and this frail little girl was Sarian; she could barely recognize the pup in this state. And if this was Sarian, then what did that mean happened to “Shiloh...”
Her voice cracked and she gathered the sleeping pup up tighter, curling herself around her as she shut her eyes tightly and tried to keep her sobbing from waking the exhausted child.
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