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There was something wrong with Zynex.
The female couldn’t place her paw on it. She couldn’t fathom an explanation for why she felt this way, but none the less she was certain there was something wrong with her. Physically, she would deny, for she was in the top shape of her life. Nearing five years and still in pique condition, she could see nothing wrong with her outward appearance. And with her optime form practiced and conducted with ease, she had taken to it like a second body, for in a sense it was indeed. No, she was quite well in stature and form.
But it was her mind that was troubled. Mentally sound, there was sense still about her, but disturbed none the less. There was a ticking in the back of her mind as if something ominous was hanging overhead, unseen, prodding away at the soft tissue, invoking unfamiliar thoughts. How this had come about, she didn’t know. Why it was so consistent as the winter months tolled one, she couldn’t fathom. But she did know she had felt like this once before but was denied exploration for this reason as her family had deprived her to the enriching life she sought. She was left to dwell with this strange feeling and perhaps come to know what caused this.
Damn her if she would go through this again without some sort of aid. And who better to disturb with her troubles than the proclaimed leader of the Valley? Ah yes, the King had to rule his subjects, seek their well-being and calm their worries should they rouse…and Zyn’s certainly had. She heard tale of where the single ocular beast made his home, far from the borders where human dwellers were sparse but seen. She didn’t know which was his, her sense of him dwindling after time away from his mark and presence. It was only in the meeting that she had seen him after what seemed eons, but upon seeing his face there was no joy to be had. Only annoyance. The aura of the male grated against her own creating a horrid friction that she both enjoyed and despised. The thrill of conflict and the irritation for such abrasion when it was uncalled for.
Yet, her disdain for his was forgone at this moment. She looked beyond is façade and to the core of what his title meant to the Valley. He was the leader, what little support she could count on when in dire need. And by the gods was it dire now. In her race from her own earthen refuge, her feet striking the ground hard and heavy in her approach, she finally slowed, drawing nigh to a single home that rested in the distance, partially secluded but wrapped in a natural veil. She wasted no time in letting her voice be heard, the urgency within could be counted misleading, but for the breathless female, it was just and necessary. Again she called for him, this time by his name and quite loud at that. “Jefferson!!”
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[html] <33 Thank you for starting! :3
A howl or call of some kind, clearly directed for the dumbass Patriarch, unfortunately failed to stir him on its first attempt. Unsurprisingly, the one-armed beast had once again fallen asleep in the rocking chair before the crackle and warmth of the fire; it was odd, funny even, how easily the fire could numb his thoughts and allow sleep to happen when at night -- every night -- he struggled to bring peace to his aching, screaming head. Thus, it was no surprise that the call did not wake him at first; the poor leader barely got enough sleep as it was, and although one might accuse him of being lazy as he slept unwillingly in the rocking chair with the book once in hand now toppled to the floor, well, Jefferson would be the only one who knew better.
It was his name that jolted him awake, the idiot now realizing that there had been some other call beforehand that only his subconscious had caught. Thinking it was an emergency, Jefferson hardly tried to distinguish the voice's owner before hauling his ass out of the chair in a flurry (the chair sent sprawled somewhere behind him in the rush). Strong legs pounding the wooden floor, the cyclops threw the front door open -- fur on edge, senses flared. His vision was thrown left to right, looking for a source of danger and seeing none. Finally, he looked slowly at Zynex and her typical haughtiness. The Patriarch breathed in slowly and released a long, not quite relieved sigh and rubbed at his eyes. In this time of war, screaming at the poor five-year-old was going to be enough to give him a heart attack, or else throw him into a blind rage.
"Zynex," Jefferson said calmly, trying to recollect himself. He took another moment to breathe and settle his flaring instincts and senses, then rolled his shoulders and looked at her again. "Scared the hell out of me... I thought someone was attacking the Valley. Are you all right?" Perhaps it was the fact that he'd just barely woken, but he wasn't quite his typical caustic self quite yet.
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It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did to find the Alpha. Wasn’t it his job to always have his ears attuned to the call of his subordinates? Ah, but she was playing rather harshly at him, already fuming at the ears for lack of address by him. But the dame was calm and for the most part, composed, though her rampant display portrayed just the opposite.
The spell of time cast slowly about the female as she waited for reply, her hopes dwindling in her wait as each second ticked painfully within her. The internal clock steal away her life force and aging her much more slowly. Never would she call the image of the King a beacon of hope, but it certainly was a pleasant sight to behold in this moment. The scent of the Patriarch flared her nostrils, eyes quickly averted as he came near. She was met with a voice laced with distress and twin auds perked to receive it. “No,” she barked. “Wait…yes.” Zynex groaned in frustration. “No I am not alright!” She hadn’t meant for her voice to scale so suddenly as it did, but she was a creature of distress as it were. In light of her present company, she tried with her might to retain control and not take the part of an emotional female.
She bowed her head with what respect she had for the Alpha. “I’m sorry.” She breathed deeply again, reaching behind her back and favoring a lengthy stray strand of crimson. “I…have not been having the best time lately. I must confess to someone, and you are the ruler.” Her bolder nature allowed her moonlit sights to drift to the King. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I don’t feel as I should. I have felt like this once before and not even my elders obliged me with an answer. Perhaps an experienced male as yourself have had similar developments…or something of the like…” The descent of her ears portrayed the helplessness she refused to express in this moment. “I don’t know what I should do. I just feel…empty.”
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Her reaction was only vaguely what he expected; all he had seen of Zynex thus far had been frustration and rebellion in demeanor, and even from the beginning Jefferson had wondered how she would fare as a Phoenix Valley member in a pack of easygoing dreamers. Her personality differed from theirs rather blatantly, but Jefferson -- although he'd been bitter in the beginning -- had kept high hopes that one of them would reach out to her somehow or, better yet, she'd reach out to them instead. If nothing else, the cyclops had known she was ambitious, just not always choosing the best way to go about it.
The first response she gave him made it clear there was a level of distress present. At first his senses flared again, thinking something war-related had happened and she was there as a messenger, but he relaxed when an unexpected apology ensued. "Breathe, Scarlet," he advised calmly, his tall frame looking down on hers. He was no psychologist, but even Jefferson could see the poor girl had her inner demons. As she continued, the severity of the issue rose with every word and she posed a question very rarely -- if ever -- thrown at him. Jefferson was an analyst at heart; he could see the problems of the world and assume answers for them, but he was never one to speak aloud his thoughts. He had never seen himself as an advisor, but knew it fell into his role as a leader (although Geneva might have been more skilled with it).
As she quieted, the cyclops sighed and turned, motioning to her. "First, why don't we go inside the ranch. The fire's going, so it's warmer." As he led her in, he was sure to close the front door and only continued after doing such. "I don't see myself as much of a ruler as you do," he started, walking down the hallway that became progressively warmer as they went. "I know you're not fond of me, so I don't expect you to see much of anything else, but this is the type of thing I'm here for, so you don't have to be nervous about coming to me about it."
That said, the rocking chair and glorious burning hearth welcomed them into the small, main room of the ranch. It was comfortable with its miniature, attached kitchen; the cyclops moved to scoop up the book he'd dropped earlier and tossed it on the table as he pulled a chair for her to the fire. "I don't suppose you've gotten to know much of the pack, right?" As she collapsed in the somewhat squeaky rocking chair, his eye watched her earnestly; the typical gruffness of his demeanor was absent. "They're tight-knit, so they talk about each other a lot... and I haven't heard your name come up." He frowned. Though he was a loner at heart, he knew there was nothing worse than standing in an occupied place all alone.
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ooc:
She felt the part of a fool, having come in a torrent of emotions to address the Alpha. But despite the years of etiquette engraved into her persona, Zyn couldn’t bring herself to care about her conduct at the moment. The girl was in pain. In both a literal and emotion sense that it drove her mad, nigh to course of tears. The offer to go into the home was granted with a nod and without conflict, she walked in, covering the whole of her muzzle with a wide girthed hand. The second favored the string of beads that hung around her neck; a treasure stolen from her adventures away from the Valley.
The warmth of the home was disregarded for a moment. Only the troubling sensation dawning upon her was noted, and acted upon with shakes and shivers as if still burdened by the winter cold. The female shuffled after her Alpha, falling into step as easily as a child would its parent then parted as they neared the fire. She dismissed the offered chair and favored the floor at the foot of Jefferson’s seat. Lengthened tail extended toward the crackling fire, the tip heated by the sparking flames, acting as a channel from the fireplace to radiate the heat through the rest of her form. Zynex broke from her mild panic for a moment the exhale a breath of relief, and regain her composure. Her gradual breaths and urge to calm her paining heart.
An ear turned to her Alpha, his assumption of her to him correct, but she dared not admit it now. That soft name her branded her with not a few seconds before suddenly stuck out in her mind and she frowned, but did not question it. Her attention instead was on his currently spoken words. Her cognitive process working to craft and explanation for why few of the pack had come to gossip about her. She could only wonder if not for her own speculations. “I am not around the others a lot,” she confessed, slender auds draping against her skull. “Those I have met were under extreme circumstances. I have met the mother and her cubs,” she visibly flinched. “I have hunted with another mother and a girl who is younger than I. I tend to wander elsewhere, beyond the borders of the Valley, to the free lands.” Her breath suddenly caught in her throat, the strength of her vocals dwindling at a startling rate until she spoke with a whisper, a remnant of the strength her voice once held. “I don’t know why. To venture the lands in wonderful…But each time I travel to a new place, this pain grows worse. And when I return to the Valley and see the joy and happiness of my packmates, the pain is nearly unbearable…and I want to leave again.”
Rusted tail withdrew from the base of the fireplace to curl about the female’s collected limbs. She drew her knees to her ample chest, smothering the whole of her body, huddling into a tighter ball. Her disposition was much calmer now, but still the expression on her face was troubled.
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She opened up to him easier than he predicted, though he supposed there was no point in holding back for the girl who'd sought him out specifically. Where was Geneva? Surely the olive-eyed woman would have been a great comfort for Zynex then, if not a better advisor than the one-eyed brute the Fuerre found so much distaste for. He was not there to threaten her, nor was he about to send her away recklessly; he was not completely heartless, and even a stone-faced murderer like Jefferson was capable of compassion for someone clearly suffering. Briefly, just briefly, he wondered why he felt as if he was facing Addison again.
Zynex admitted to being scarce around the other members -- odd, since Jefferson hadn't seen her as the shy type. Tattered auds flicked to attention and he listened intently, routing out places to start even before she'd finished talking. He caught the subtle, hidden twitch when she referred clearly to Xeris, though the Patriarch couldn't imagine why it was she would have a problem in the area. Xeris, in his own opinion, was charming and responsible; there was little to dislike about her. He sighed, shoulders sagging as he mildly shared in her despair. Surprisingly, he'd been there -- more often than not. "Pack life... is bullshit at first," he began, an ear twitching irritably. He hadn't favored it either; the fact that he was still there was after a long list of unfortunate events, and somewhere along the way he'd just adapted. He was a loner at heart, though, and thus his pain was a different type. "Phoenix Valley is full of dreamers and peacemakers. You and I both, we're... a different breed from them. Explaining how someone like me got to lead a pack of daydreamers would take days to tell."
He straightened his back and affixed his eye on her. "There's a fine line between loners and members," he said, compassion in his tone. "I'm a loner, but I make do. Tell me... what do you want to see happen? The others to flock to you, or you to them?" He leaned back, the chain creaking. "Or would you rather be left alone?"
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She hadn’t expected a pep talk, or for the Patriarch to take her seriously for that matter. Their dispositions toward each other was anything but friendly, and yet she had sought him out in desperation, for who else was there to turn to when she felt like this? A true loner amongst a clan… And yet, she had ostracized herself, kept the others at a distance in the hopes of maintaining some part of who she had made herself to be. But what had it served her in the end but this unhappiness and gaping longing that expanded with each passing day.
Zynex was stunned to silence for a moment, unable to register what was spoken by her Alpha, and possible sympathizer. A Pack was just a word and they both knew this. Nothing but a band of wolves seeking solace and comfort with each other. Having experienced such a life, she could see it clearly, but was surprised to know that Jefferson had some inkling of the same. He deeded himself a loner, and she had no difficulty believing this fact. He was a difficult breed to understand, a commonality they shared. But amongst the dreamers, as it was so eloquently phrased, he had amounted to a respectable standing. Perhaps a model to be looked upon…
Was that not the position the Alpha was supposed to take?
“I’ll spare you the pain of having to tell me,” she growled softly, her voice still strained with distress but sound above the crackle of the fireplace. Her slender ears curled along her skull as they fell. “Unless there is another time to tell me.” Her interest could not be withheld. She needed to know that at least another shared her circumstance and was able to overcome it to an extent. The fallen receptors flicked forward again but only slightly. Still weighed by hesitance she only exhibited that she still listened to his words. His question disturbed her slightly. She hadn’t thought about what she wanted from the pack…only that shelter was needed to preserve her life. Her intentions for lingering were just to fulfill some kind of duty, not make a life or fill some greater purpose. She could care less of the others and what they thought of her…and yet she was trying to acquaint herself. But for what reason?
“I don’t want them to come to me,” she confessed. “Nor…do I want to go to them. I don’t want to feel that I need them. But…I don’t want to be on the outskirts any longer. I have been alone since my exile and have grown used to it…but I want acceptance. But…” The tip of her tail danced erratically. “…I don’t think it’s this pack’s acceptance that I’m wanting…I don’t know..”
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Jefferson made the effort to suppress his surprise that his words weren't just going through one ear and out the other for her. The Patriarch could believe that Zynex earnestly needed his help, but his initial reaction was that it would end up useless in the end: If both stuck to their normal demeanors, the two would end up butting heads and she'd probably storm out on him and go complaining to Geneva (which might have been a better idea either way). This was not the case, however. Zynex was listening, understanding, absorbing. He observed the level of compassion fog her eyes, even as much as she tried to hide it. Maybe, he pondered, maybe we have more in common than I thought.
At first, he said nothing of the story he'd introduced -- it was nothing flashy, but if she needed to know, they would fall back on it in the conversation somewhere. When she spoke of what she wanted of the pack, however, her answers were jumbled and contradictory, making it obvious that she herself had barely considered the question prior to its asking. Oddly, her answers made a bit of sense to him. "I felt the same when I showed up. I was starved to skin and bones. I wouldn't have lasted a couple more days on my own, so I decided to stay only long enough to fill my stomach and sneak away." A tattered ear twitched. He was normally so closed off, and yet he'd been rather quick to share his personal stories more as of late. "Clearly that didn't end up being the case. A number of things tied me to the area and I could have left to find answers in the area on my own, but I didn't. It was like I had an obligation here, so I didn't go. I got into more trouble than not at first, and living here was hell for a while. I snapped at most everyone I met." The ear twitched again. Poor Pendzez. "I didn't want to feel or be needed, I wanted to be left alone. I couldn't stand to stay in a pack of idiots without a reason for being there. I think the biggest reason I stuck around was because I made a 'friend' here. She was the leader at the time, and hell if I'd ever had anyone to talk to like a friend." His head dipped and shoulders sank. "I took her place when she died. That's why I lead here now." That, in a nutshell, was the story.
After a pause, he sighed and looked at her only briefly before sending his gaze elsewhere again. "Maybe it has something to do with your exile," the brute mumbled, shamed. "I don't think you ever told me the story."
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She would have been troubled to admit that this conversation what was she needed. This talk with another, not as superior and subordinate, but as equal creatures hearing the other without bias. Her ears continued the dance of intrigue, twitching to and fro at the Patriarch’s change in octave and tone. Each syllable adhered to her memory as she found herself enthralled with his circumstance.
Without having seen the tattered male in his past life, she could understand the struggle endured having been in the situation herself. And she could more than relate to his initial demeanor in coming to this pack. Though she hadn’t snapped at others, she had distanced herself…speaking only when needed, offering her assistance as hunter and that alone. To socialize seemed a waste, though against her better judgment, she had tried…and further distanced herself. She did not have a ‘friend’ to bring her from her rut. A crush perhaps, but the distance between herself and the braided-maned Chief made it difficult to see, let alone express her interest. In addition, the male’s status within his pack discouraged any sort of pursuit…and Zynex was not the type to gallivant on the wings of hope that fate would turn in her favor.
Yet it had, in one form or another.
A silver eye turned toward her leader then just as quickly veered into the hearth of the fire. Fate had favored her in this encounter, hadn’t it? Hadn’t it been kind to grant her this unusually pleasurable audience with her leader? Or could she pass this on to luck? Regardless…there was something to be said about this. But it was for another to time ponder on. Her mind digressed to the present, ears erect once more as Jefferson paused in his tale then directed its flow toward her.
“No…I never told,” she recalled quietly, sighing as if the very thought of the tale burdened her. “I came from the far North from nobility. My family was…is under matriarchal rule, so the word of the female was never ignored and all of regal blood held influence. My mother was named Duchess…I knew nothing about my sire. My sister Nahrus and I were never told about him by the elders. Since my sister and I were of a dying bloodline, it was essential that we breed and continue to line, but our obligation to the pack changed when our Queen became ill.” Zyn continued to stare distantly into the flames, recollecting all as if narrating the scenes as they transpired.
“On her passing, she named the off-spring of our mother to be the next ruler…but since it was me and my sister, there couldn’t be two rulers. We were pitted against each other since we could stand, forced to treat the other as competition. It was drilled that one day either of us would carry the weight of the pack as well as our bloodline on our shoulders…weakness, instability was not acceptable. To make it simple, I took the advantage…until my sister learned to stand on two legs. We were in a spar and she ascended and took me by surprise. The pack looked to her as the ideal ruler and let her take rule on her second year. Her first proclamation was to run me from the territory. Members…even my own mother whom I loved chased me from the mountains. Even after I cleared the ice, they still hunted me warning me never to return…because my sister claimed I wasn’t welcome. I didn’t know what else to do, so…I wandered until I came here. Literally…this was the first real pack I had come across in my years alone. I was…I was tired of wandering aimlessly. And even in the Valley, I feel as if I’m still doing just that.”
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Her story was a strange, exotic one, definitely a tale he hadn't been expecting out of her. As she spoke, the Patriarch removed the pressure by pointing his eye at the hearth. Zynex had come across as snappish and crude at first, but just as he'd expected, her demeanor was completely justifiable considering what she'd been through. It was strange how easily personalities were shaped -- and intriguing to root through backgrounds and discover the reasoning. Oddly, he didn't want to with Zynex. Jefferson just wished she'd smile for once.
She hadn't lied about being exiled. The Patriarch, with his so far unyielding amnesia, could not recall his own childhood or any of the struggles he'd ever had with his family. To his understanding he'd grown up happy, at least until his father had left. Apparently, that was when all the trouble began, and after regaining his sanity he became Jefferson -- a completely blank slate with dozens of unexplainable scars, the only evidence of sins and crimes he'd committed that he now could not even remember. Briefly, the brute wondered if Zynex might have benefited from a similar fate. It seemed her memories were now her worst enemies. "My half-brother is some sort of tyrant," he said quietly, dipping his head. Though unlikely, he could relate to troublesome siblings, though troublesome was an understatement. "You're isolating yourself because you subconsciously think that's all you deserve. I've been there." He sighed. Reliving it was unpleasant. "You were basically raised and run out of your pack because you were seen as unfit, so now you're having a hard time seeing yourself as anything else."
He straightened in his chair a little, allowing a pause for the information to sink in if she wasn't aware of it already. Then, the Patriarch turned his glowing green eye to her and dug his gaze into her eyes. "You wouldn't be here if we didn't want you here. Fuck, I was an asshole to you, I know. Geneva stuck up for you, and she was right to. The second you can get over this thing and know there's no pressure on you to just live here and exist, the second you can start getting to the simple living and existing part."
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Was it really as simple as overcoming the past? She had listened to Jefferson, as strange as she found his suggestion to be, but sense dictated that it would have not been suggested if there wasn’t some merit to it. The tight grasp of her past, the pain of her exile, of course they were matters that made her who and what she was…but was it right to continue to cling to it and assume the world would be as her pack? Cold, brutal and distant if she couldn’t hold a candle to their wants and skills…
The kindness and carefree nature of the pack did not carry the weight of expectations as she would have assumed…but carrying the expectations of one was all she knew how to do. Her persona was crafted to fulfill an obligation, to become what other’s wanted in the end. She did not know how to mark a place for herself without some dictation…and it was disgusting, but she knew this was the truth.
Her sight could not part with her leader’s, holding fast as if challenging her to look away and call his words farce. No, she knew what he said was the truth. She was not so lost in her own dismay that reason could not penetrate her barriers. But it seemed so hard to do what he was offering…
“Help…would be nice…appreci- held would be nice” Her ears again cupped her skull. The crimson front of her mane came down to veil the embarrassed quiver of her muzzle. Just existing…that’s difficulty. Without a purpose, without a direction…I feel lost. It is not so much that I need an obligation, but that I have some kind of…goal. If to exist is this goal then…I…” She found it difficult to suppress her frustrated whining. Her jowls turned in an awkward sort of smile, more so a sneer to the floor as she struggled for a proper expression. But was there one? Really? “It’s just hard.” She finally settled with that.
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"A goal is something feasible," Jefferson nodded, the rocker creaking as he leaned back and scratched at his chin, eye searching the walls in obvious thought. She was empty like a shell, somewhat, unsure what her purpose in life was or what she was capable of without clear, obvious direction. It was only natural that she'd have difficulty finding targets and goals to strive for when she'd formerly existed only as a disappointment to those who were supposed to love her. At that time, surely any goal she'd tried to set for herself felt useless, since they would only end up in more discouragement and apparent failure to everyone else.
He sighed. She was complicated and had a great load of baggage, all right. It set her apart from the rest of the pack, who were perfectly content with their lives and tended to ride the waves as they came without any real fear to do so. Zynex was different: everything that approached her was another obstacle, another thing she would either lose to or struggle to find a way around and still feel even mildly satisfied with herself.
"It's going to be hard, but hell... you've been through harder. You can do this, you know that." She'd been through plenty worse with her family and exile, so setting goals and turning to make life better for herself now that she was out of the situation would possibly come easier than she thought. "You just start out easy. First, learn everyone's name in the pack. Next, where they sleep every night or where they came from. Then you build from there. Every goal is a process, Scarlet. It's something you're going to have to work for if you want to win in the end."
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He was giving her a goal. Was it pathetic she found happiness in this realization? Was it a shame that her tail was wagging despite the disgruntled look on her muzzle? No. She found nothing wrong with this, though perhaps an outsider would look upon this excuse of a predator and shake their heads in dismay. But their judgment would never have been acknowledged.
This name, however, was. The female raised an interested brow. “Why do you insist on calling me ‘Scarlet’?” Not that she minded, it was just an odd reference to her person. Was it her mane, she wondered. Subconsciously reaching around, she grabbed a bulk of the long mass and waved it absently by its end. Was that the color named for her hair…?
But why bother with trivial things? Zyn released her hold and abruptly stood nearly toppling from her rush to stand. She was giving something to do for herself. Of course what was set before her wouldn’t be easy…and it would be difficult still not to treat this assignment as thus; an assignment. She would have to learn to take this naturally, develop the second nature that the wolves of the Valley seemed to possess…that Dawali also possessed and exhibited on their first encounter. “I can do this,” she said more for herself than her leader. Her following words were to the extent of promising not to disappoint, or something akin to militant retort, but she stopped herself. The disciplines of her family were embedded deeply, but for the sake of bettering herself, it would have to be overruled…gradually.
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He snickered at her question, but no answer came to mind. Why did he do the things he did? Nicknames -- especially when they were actually harmless, which was unusual -- were the very least he could go out of his way for, and yet the cyclops still did. Perhaps it was a way to prove he was capable of kindness outside of his snide sarcasm, especially when the brute was so consistently gruff and cold. He was able to chat and laugh with most of Phoenix Valley's members, but Zynex was not yet one he felt he could take risks about, especially now that he knew how unstable she could potentially be. If anything else, the name was just easing her into the real world, perhaps giving her a dose of what friendliness or humor would be in a pack that could actually care about her.
"Who knows," he shrugged, even though such pondering continued in his head. "There's something else for you to work on. Hell, everyone else is trying to figure me out and hasn't yet." Well, with the exception of Geneva. Damn, she was good.
"I can do this." Jefferson leaned back in his chair and simply watched her, observing how naturally confidence could wash over her though she'd struggled with it for so long. He knew she was just as capable as anyone else, but it wasn't him she had to convince that. "Sounds like you have some work to do," he grinned, leaning on his good wrist atop the arm of the chair. "How do you plan to start?"
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ooc: Damn! I didn't get the notice you posted.
She was going to do this…she was going to overcome this trouble within herself. But where to begin, how to begin…that indeed was the question and something she had to figure out for herself. “I plan to first take the time and decide what I want for myself…I suppose…I really need to come to terms with the past.” And as the female spoke she carefully drew herself from the warm floor.
“It is not enough to know,” she continued, “ but to accept that…that the Tundra will not be my home any longer. Only then..will I be able to take another land as my home in the future. Until then, I don’t think I can look at another of the Valley and be ready to greet them with the same warmth they have shown me. I would feel as though I am betraying them in some way. I would feel as if I were betraying this land by calling it home when there is another still in my memory and has taken my heart. I hope…” The female breathed deeply, a shiver running the length of her spine by the uncomfortable chill of the late winter draft. “I hope you can understand this.”
Crimson locks cascaded down the front of the dame as she lowered her head in a bow, her ears coming to rest against her skull. “Thank you for speaking with me, Jefferson,” she uttered quietly, the tip of her tail waved in some elated gesture. “It helped a lot. And now, I have work to do…” in saying those words, a hopeful smile dawned on her muzzle as she lifted her head. Bidding farewell by the sway of her tail, she left the Patriarch to his home alone.
Words: 291
I'm thinking about something... Be quiet when I talk. I'm just wandering |
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