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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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Sorry for the delay, and thanks so much for starting :]
SSWM - 645
The kitten had mewed, the horses neigh, and Heath simply sighed. It was a breath of fresh air and his mane swaying in the winter’s cool air as he road through the stables and out into the bright sun. They all called to him, even his new feline friend whom he thought would be staying with his love, Ruri. The small cat had followed him home but would no doubt return to the cabin he resided in. They all said their good byes, the stallion that he claimed knocking against the stable door in protest. But Heath needed a solitary moment; he needed nothing more then the sky above and the ground below. The mare he rode so easily became an extension of whom he was that it was only natural for the Marshal to choose her to join him, even for an alone moment. Though he had begun to adorn his form with clothing, he chose none for the ride and sat in the saddle just as nature had intended. He gave her the reins and the two rode through the worn path away from the farm and into the nothing that surrounded it. He felt hoof beats flow to the thumping of his heart, and the wind was all he heard in his ears. Trees gave way to a clearing, and his kicked the roan mare into a gallop. Expertly careening through the frozen grasses, avoiding the patches of snow that lasted the mid winter melt, Heath and mare crossed the meadow only to enter the tree cover once more.
He slowed, feeling his need satisfied and easing the horse into a trot. He patted her neck, calming her as she guided him through the forest. His breathed heavily, just as the horse did. The air was cool, yet not with the sharpness as days past or as they would be in the future. Winter had yet to die to spring, but it was a sweet taste of what they all looked forward to. Lumière moved beneath him, and he allowed her to roam as she pleased. Heath simply rode, and attempted to clear his mind. Things had been calm, yet there were always moments he did not understand. He wished to call the woman he loved his mate, and yet he did not simply ask her. Jac was no longer lingering in the shadows, though Heath still hoped to solve their differences. The male ducked under a tree branch, noticing it just in time. Rocking back and forth for a moment he realized it was best to focus on the task at hand then letting thoughts drift to the future.
Sounds in the distance spoke of a river, but the mare did not need encouragement to head in its direction. He reined her in, and dismounted once she slowed. Cautious of their footing the coy-wolf moved slowly until the trees thinned and then stopped completely at the smell he found lingering near the river and the pack’s border. Honey colored eyes moved up river, finding what caused the scent and surprised at the sight of a wolfess not far from where the pair had emerged. The horse knew no difference in her yearning for water, ignoring the strange wolfess and drank from the cool moving water. Heath stood, motionless as he examined her from afar. It was her scent that startled him, for she was obviously of the Dreaming pack. Heath had avoided such meetings since the leader had banned him and thrown him out of their lands.
His black and sandy colored arms crossed, just before making the blunt decision to cross the river. It was cold, though shallow and the sun shone brightly against his back for warmth. Heath lead the mare across, who gave no protest. If the Dreaming female hadn’t noticed him yet, she was bound to now.
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OOC: Bah, I am so sorry for taking so long x.x ::Word Count:: 900+
The soft spray of the river’s water caressed her fur, refreshing her skin, if such a thing were even necessary considering it was by no means warm outside. Although the weather had taken a turn for improvement, the chill characteristic to the still winter air made it impossible for one to enjoy being outside as much as during summer time. That is, unless they were used to cold temperatures, which was Urma’s case. She remembered very well how much she enjoyed looking at the ever-moving waters of small rivers she happened to find during her long journeys, seeking shelter for a night away from her pack. Back then, she had enjoyed drinking the icy liquid, her then mate’s eyes watching her with a mixture of affection and amusement as she pulled back in amazement at the nippy sensation in her tongue, afterwards approached the river bank with renewed caution, as if she expected the steady flow of water to attack her at any moment. Mörker would then come and place his head against the back of her neck, before dotingly licking the tip of her ear. She would place a paw against his torso and playfully push him away, then turn her back on him as a clear indication that she had taken his attitude as an affront. He would obediently circle around her a couple of times, after which he would silently recline to his haunches in front of her, his ears pulled back to show his profound regret for offending her. It would take only a few minutes before a smile would flutter on her lips, and, seemingly on cue, he would wag his tail in excitement and shower her with loving nuzzles. They would afterwards fool around for a while, their excitement muted by the waters of the stream, until dusk settled, forcing them to find safety and comfort in a nearby cave.
The pale Crimson Dreamer smiled in recollection of these thoughts, realizing how innocent and carefree those times had been, even though her childhood had been far from easy. The fact that she had never seen her mother and father share so much as a word of kindness to each other had made her relationship with Mörker seem as if it would yield nothing. The ivory femme could not have told Mörker any of this, however: it was hard explaining to someone that you could never hope to see your parents together simply because your mother’s heart belonged to that someone’s father. While she had never, not even whilst growing, blamed her mother for any of the choices she had made, or for all the wrongs her father had done her that had forced her into acting as she had, Urma could not put aside as lightly the fact that she and her brothers and sister were not in any way responsible for their mother’s misery. Of course, it was understandable that her mother would love her son, Mörker, more than any of her other offsprings, if only because he was the single surviving child produced by love, and not forced upon her. But the fact of the matter remained that Urma and her brothers and sister did not deserve being treated as if they bore upon their shoulders their father’s injustice, or as if they were glad that this was the case.
The ivory femme shook her head, in an attempt to rid herself of these thoughts that were threatening to poison her mind and spoil her otherwise precious memories. She allowed the water to lap at her fingers, enjoying the frosty sensation in her fingertips, in complete opposition to the warmth of her palms. Over the noise the stream’s progress produced, she could vaguely make out a different one, strange but somehow familiar. She tried to block out all other sound, concentrating on just this one, but the river’s momentum made the task difficult. As the noise intensified, she realized that it was that of hoofs, and her heart skipped a beat at the unexpectedness of this acknowledgement. Someone was clearly coming in her direction, and not much time passed since this thought occurred to her, that she saw a stranger on horseback leading his mare through the river. It was a most peculiar sight, and Urma stared in amazement at the male riding the horse, wondering whether he belonged to this pack. His scent surely held the same tinge as that of the pack that she was close to, but maybe he was a simple wanderer who had camped in the area for a few nights. That would certainly explain the presence of the mare, though Urma did not exclude the possibility that this was just the usual method of taking a walk in this pack. Afterall, there wasn’t much that she knew of it.
Deciding not to allow the stranger any time to formulate a hostile response to her presence, she said, “I am not looking for trouble. I am sorry if I have crossed your land’s borders, but I assure you I mean no harm to anyone.” Her golden eyes held the male’s gaze for a moment, trying to convince him of the truth behind her words. “And who might you be, if I may ask you, brave knight?” she enquired, her tone lapsing into a playful one despite not knowing who the wolf before her was. She hoped he would not take it as a mockery to himself.
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SSWM - 364
The pair walked through the river’s waters, his toes instantly frozen at its touch. It lapped at his ankles, touching his legs with a hurried playfulness that Heath simply ignored. He did not find it to be a time to look upon the moving water and reflect. The white woman and her fly away mane with decorated beads had been chosen by his sight and the male was not distracted so easily. She was of Crimson Dreams, the scent easy enough to pick up. Still run by the ebony female that Heath was not even close to forgetting. Her green acid eyes still bore into him from his memories, but he did not feel fright when looking upon her face. He felt ashamed, embarrassment and guilt. Emotions that Heath did not enjoy dwelling on and so he pushed them aside and replaced it with a hard cast on his features.
Reigns in his hand Lumière followed along the bank as he approached the wolfess, whose voice rang in his ears before he could greet her. He had planned to question her, though her polite comment explained all that he searched to ask. Their eyes were locked for a moment, and Heath searched them. It wasn’t hard to find the honesty that rang in their bright color, but Heath was not so easily persuaded. The Miracles wolf left a polite distance between them, and as he stopped the mare continued her approach. Knowing she wished to only get closer to the wolf Heath lowered his hand, drawing her head with it. Petting the horse’s neck in his urge to calm her Heath spoke in response,
“I’m no knight.” His voice deep, and slightly brooding.
Heath straitened his back. It was odd for her, in his opinion, to ask who he was before explaining who she was herself. Of course he wasn’t a knight, he was merely Heath, the Marshal and stable hand. Honor and valor was reserved for those better then he, those that had not made the mistakes he had. A knight was something that he looked up to. Still feeling off put by her presence in their lands he asked,
“Who are you?”
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 800+
The river beside her had almost disappeared from her mind, its place taken by the stranger’s mare. It was unusual enough for the pale Crimson Dreamer to see a horse, let alone find herself in such close proximity to it, virtually only an arm’s length away. The way that the Miracles male herded the graceful animal, the way just a simple touch of his could subdue the creature, was indeed an extraordinary sight. The pearl femme had never seen a wolf be able to anticipate with such flawless ease the next move of an individual from a different species, and could hardly take her eyes off from the bizarre pair, her expression betraying her curiousity, but also her obvious inclination to find out more about how someone could achieve such a level of obedience from a less intellectually developed animal. The fact that Urma had never seen a wolf ride a horse before only added to her surprise, and perhaps if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would not have believed it to be possible. It wasn’t necessarily that it was a ludicrous thought-- quite the contrary. While she expected Luperci to be able to exercise their wills on other creatures, in ways in which, from what she had read, humans once used to and which did not affect said creatures, the fact of the matter remained that the alabaster she-wolf had never actually seen this idea in practice. The assured manner in which the Miracles stranger had crossed the river, his perfect anticipation of the mare’s movements had triggered deep within the Dreamer female the desire to master a skill that seemed almost to come from a story. She didn’t know what to make of this as of yet unseen talent-- she doubted the male would feel any particular wish to teach her and, in any case, it would probably take some practice to be able to gain his self-possession in handling the reins and steering the horse in the right direction.
Her fascination for the obedient mare had made Urma quite unaware of the reaction her presence had triggered. It seemed that her scent was familiar to the wolf, for his posture lacked the composed nature of only a moment ago. It was the second occasion in a small span of time in which another canine treated the ivory-furred female with caution, at times even a hint of weariness. It put her off completely-- if she had sympathized with Kaena’s initial reserve, considering Urma’s wolf heritage and Kaena’s coyote blood, she could not appropriately judge the Miracles wolf’s reaction to her being there. Even if she had crossed the borders of his pack, she surely had done no one any harm by willing her time away on the banks of a river. She had certainly not come all the way here seeking trouble, though, indeed, in the same time, she could not accurately give a reason for her presence.
The mare gave signs of wanting to approach her and the blanched femme extended a hand towards it, wanting to stroke its gentle muzzle. Half-way through, though, she stopped and allowed her gaze to settle on the unwavering figure of the male. She got up slowly, trying to assure him by this gesture that she meant him no harm and that she would not do anything unexpected, but did not dare outstretch her arm to touch the horse unless she had his permission. “May I stroke it?” she asked politely, a hint of uncertainty clear in her voice, laced with the faintest trace of shyness. His words came as a surprise to Urma, and she pulled her ears back in discomfort, hoping that his answer did not come as a response to something he had taken as an offense. She pushed the hair back from her face uncomfortably, before trying to lighten the atmosphere by saying, “Well, that’s just as well, for I am no princess either. Though, while I indeed look nothing of the kind, you could easily pass off as an adventurous knight,” she ventured an opinion in the end. She hoped that this way he would see her earlier remark as what it had actually been, namely a joke. His question prompted her to continue before any more reason for suspicion arose, so she said, the tone of her voice warm and melodic, “I am Urma, from Crimson Dreams. I don’t expect my name to ring as familiar with you-- I don’t believe we’ve ever made each other’s acquaintance before. No matter; I am glad to make it now. Who are you, then, kind sir?” Timidity seeped into her voice as she finished, so that her question came out slightly shakily, and she lowered her head imperceptibly, as if the sound of her own voice had hurt her ears.
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SSWM - 590
This was who he was, only because it was what the horses had created. In the past he was no more then a selfish pup, taking what he saw fit and not caring who he hurt to get there. He hadn’t reached the point of rape and murder, but the male was on the path towards it. It wouldn’t have been long till he chose to take everything, without restraint. More then once he had attacked Dreamers on their own soil, tempting them to fight. He had beaten one, walking away with distain and disgust in his head. Then the woman, her vile breath still in his memory, had shown him their power. Deep in his heart he knew she was far from vile, green eyes a bright jade that could sparkle with strength and at the same moment a feminine fragility. She had sent his small lean body flying, and would have killed him if given the chance. But he had ran, and this was who he met. The grey blue mare, her dark face bringing him light, even through the dark ink pools of her eyes.
Time, patience. Trial and error had taught him the things that he needed to know. He spent his time reading, trying one technique and then another until it worked, but it only worked for a certain horse. When the next came along, he would need to tying and mold it once more to work for that mare or stallion. He had taught Stark, the pale stallion to follow Lumière, when ever they rode, and where ever they went. He trusted the horse with his precious Ruri, whose blindness made it once impossible for her to ever ride a horse. But not with the gentle beast, who was as calm as a warm spring breeze. Heath would move mountains for the woman, training the horse was only a small task in his unending journey in bringing her all the happiness that she deserved.
Gold eyes watched the exchange between the two creatures, and with the woman’s words she gave a nod. Still he did not give the mare the reigns, knowing that if he did she would push past him in hopes of examining the creature that was interested in her wolf hybrid. Lumière was more often then not possessive over the Marshal. He smiled at her explanation, finding it some what farfetched. The worst of it was that she did seem to be more of a princess that he would ever a knight. Her bright clean pelt, marked only by the ornaments carefully placed among the silk of her fur.
“A cowboy, perhaps. But, knights are too noble.” he spoke, cutting into those thoughts of her. From what he had read, a cowboy could e everything that he wished, a scoundrel or a hero. Heath was still a bit to rugged to hold the title of a hero.
She introduced herself and Heath looked back at her with an unmoving gaze. She had not given him reason to not trust her, but the scent of her triggered too many memories.
“Heath.” He answered the repeated question finally, giving her the bit that she wished for.
“Your in Cour des Miracles, lead by King Jacquez. I’m the Duc and Marshal here.” he paused, looking at the horse briefly and then back at the woman.
“If you aren’t here for trouble, then what?” The male asked, needed to know why he had found a Crimson Dreamer on his lands, and now admiring his mare.
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