Life was, well, fine he guessed, but that didn't mean it couldn't better. Ever the perfectionist, Rohan just wished he could simply turn back the clock to when he'd actually been happy, rather than merely enduring, as it were. He was, however, intelligent enough to realize the folly in such an idea, and had often time tried to push the notion away, aside into the back of his mind where the gloom was too thick to see much at all. It hadn't really worked, however, given the fact the thought kept crawling back to the surface at the most inopportune of times, frankly.

He'd just managed to botch up a hunt because near the crucial moment to strike, his mind had surprised him with a plethora of 'what ifs' and 'you could haves' that had made him lose his mark; the deer had pranced away, knowing the wolf had tired himself out for a while at least. As such, the aging canine had laid himself down upon an outcrop, to watch he herd bellow, just up down wind and hidden enough that they would not see him. At least this way, he'd see where they were heading and he could ask that dark one, Fenrir, to come with to hunt later tonight. Either that, or the loud, aggressive one; Rohan was much more comfortable with the other male than he was with the rather loud timber wolf bitch - he was unaware what her issues were, but had promptly realized that staying out of Andraste's way tended to save him a few hours worth of headache induced pain.

The other females were... odd.

There was the quiet, shy one - lovely sweetheart that she was. Bit of a wall flower, but Rohan recognized the spark of intelligence in her eyes. Perhaps she'd still outgrow that terrible shrinking violet habit of hers, for she was rather young.

Then there was the cougar. He wanted to wave that one away as 'annoyance' but given he'd found himself smirking when she couldn't quite see, he figured the jury was still out on that one. Not a good hunting partner though, as he'd found. Girl couldn't concentrate to save her life, and the direwolf was honestly surprised she'd managed to survive as long as she had, but the Gods worked in mysterious ways, as his mother had often claimed.

The sun would soon set though, and the deer were begining to move from the fields, but he was still exhausted from the failed hunt, "I guess we'll go hungry today," he murmured. Unless Fenrir had struck out on his own, they'd just have to deal for the night.

Her bones itched to stretch, to feel the hunt, to feel something other than nothing.
Nothing is something she felt all too often now, her teeth clenched often just to feel the pressure - something, anything, she craved the feeling of being in charge of her own life and now that she was lost in a limbo of not knowing what tomorrow would bring, she sought out, perhaps to prove herself or perhaps to feel the adrenaline burn in her lungs with each breath, the largest. 



The Elk grazed, their matted coats and brown meshed together, grunting and snorting to each other in a language she would never be able to understand. Her shoulders tensed, her body low to the ground as she released a small, deep growl in anticipation. Tabitha would not be able to do this alone; even as she spotted a limping one. No, too danger
Tabitha wasn’t about to, either.

She didn’t care who showed up, she didn’t care about sharing - she wanted to hunt. Tabitha was a predator and this morning, this moment, she would remain nothing short of it. Her tail lashed behind her impatiently, saliva pooling in her mouth - she wondered what they tasted like. If anything, if they succeeded, if anyone even came, they would be able to feast for a week or more on this. They didn’t notice her until she stood up, the grass shifting with her movement as she climbed up a small hill and released a long, loud  scream like roar.
Tabitha didn’t care if it scared the elk, she would hunt down the elk and kill at least two. 

He was on the move. 

Again. 

Although, this time Erysicthon didn’t mind. Getting out of the grove was a blessing. The wolves that mimicked the Yibio had not been his welcoming treat that he had wished for. However, they were an interesting lot, that was true, and perhaps in the future they may come to be useful in the end. But time would only tell. 
For now, it was time to do some research on the other wolves that inhabited this valley. And hopefully with a better attitude.
His tail aimlessly wavered behind him with each step that he took. He had followed the river into the hills, splattered with white, with the rising winter season and he made a note of the area he was in. Somewhere by the dips in the river, south from where he started, but in the distance were mountains. Useful, perhaps?

“Well then... let’s visit the south. Shall we?” He asked, tilting his head to the large raven beside him. The bird squawked and flew off in front of him, stretching his wings for the long journey ahead of themselves. The Labradorite amulet swung as he took his first steps into his new life. The raven feathers, that he picked up from Yibio, on his neck, tail, and arms fluttered softly as a small wind swept acrossed the snow splattered hills.

The time Wishingwind had spent in In Dire Straits had been spent largely alone, which might have bothered a more socially needy sort of creature. But even with her love for family, even with her enjoyment of others, all Wishingwind had ever really needed were the caribou.


Even with her help though, her herd had a rough winter the year before, and their numbers were still suffering. The weak, old, and injured had been already fallen, and the young and healthy were all needed to bolster the falling numbers so she didn't feel comfortable taking any from the herd for her own use. Getting ready to go into winter, though, she needed to be thinking about putting on fat stores and preserving more meat for the lean times which meant something larger and richer than snowshoe hares or ptarmigan. 


She left the caribou herd to continue their slow southward migration on their own. She had noticed some time back that as this herd became more tamed, much like her family's herds back home, they tended to remain together more and longer than the wilder herds. With Yibio to guide them to richer feeding grounds they had less need to disperse after the fall rut, though eventually in the deep winter when lichen was too scarce even for her keen nose and experience to find in large amounts, they would spread out too far for him to keep track of every individual alone. That was when he would lose the most of the year's casualties. The rut was coming soon for them as well, and for that couple weeks the bulls would be in danger not only from each other but from opportunistic predators. For now though she didn't need to worry as much about leaving them. They would stay together on the migration path, while he put up supplies elsewhere.

Lifting her nose to the wind, she breathed deeply. It was the moose rutting season, which put them high on the list of possible hunting, but while the rut made the bull moose vulnerable it also made them dangerous. Moose were dangerous at the best of times, let alone when they were maddened by the scent of cows in estrus, and at close to a thousand pounds or more they had a lot of bulk to back up their belligerence.

(This roleplay takes place within the scene of the fire. Mouuse returned to the sight of his birthpack dens in flames)

"I've taken a path, a long path that I can't seem to phase from. It hurts so much to just sit here as the flames engulf my body into shining ash and the smoke that chokes me."

Mouuse spoke as he stared at the lit up forest then at the enlightened dens that blazed with raging yellow and red from the inside. All he could do is stare, stare into the teeth of fire and the hands of smoke choking him. The heat was rising as he stood there, shocked.  Who could have done this to his home? Who could just set the woods on fire to just kill off his pack, his birthmother, his father his siblings? His eyes had an orange glow to it as he stared into the bright flames, coughing. He had to leave before his vessel gives out. Before he can, he stiffened at the crackling tree that was also caught by the fire. It tilted towards him. His breathing jumpstarts into a fast pace. It tilted some more, crackling. His fear took away the will to move his own legs. Mouuse's small life was at risk. One last crackle was made before the towering tree of fire fall towards him. Trembling, staring, crying, he screamed but his cries were weakened by the smoke in his throat.

The female saber stood still on the dune overlooking the rolling sea and roaring gulls. Her short sand color fur swept in all directions from the heavy wind of the ocean. Rhea took little notice of her surroundings as she just stood there with toes and claws dug deep into the sand. The warm beads trapped between her toes was comforting and she dove her paw deeper smiling at the sensation. Her attention was pulled back to the sea as a seagull called loudly near her making her large round ears to snap its way in full attention. With her head cocked to one side, she held her eyes shut to listen intently.

 Rhea had traveled from far way woods a great many leagues away just to hear the ocean lapping against the shores of this beach. The journey had not been an easy one as she only traveled during the full sunlight only being able to follow the heat of the sun beating down on her pelt as a compass. She ate very little, only what she could scavenge. It was not until she was able to actually smell the salty sea air that travel had been easier. Rhea was actually surprised when after finding her way to the beach she had smelled other sabers in the area. She had not been expecting that.

Crossing the border unknowingly, she had found her perch and stood proudly facing the deep waters. In her mind if the others sabers came at her hostilely her she would run for it, run into the sea and take her chances slim as they were. However, if the sabers of the territory seemed forgiving and gentle she may take the chance to stay. Finally finding a place to belong.

Rhea then snapped open her dull blue eyes expecting to see the blue green waters roaring with sea foam against white shores with birds gliding against a pale blue sky. What she saw however was darkness. As far as she could see, was nothing but a black expanse of no one and nothing. She could however feel the waves crashing against the earth vibrating against her half buried paws, hear the ocean and those white birds flying above her, and she could smell the air filled with salt, sand, and sabers.  Who said the blind could not see? Rhea closed her eyes again and continued to take in her surroundings.

As the first evening star appears, tumultuous waves ripple before crashing to shore. Something comes with them in high tide, black on white in the falling darkness. A great beast raises its head. The moon eclipses as light gives way to what lies beneath.

It writhes against the stony shore, leaving wide furrows in the sand and flattening vile flotsam unseen by the light of day. The stench the defiled corpses leave is overwhelming. A white-winged moth blows in from the jagged cliffs like a wayward snowflake. A crystalline eye meets it before wings find themselves trapped in inky black.

The moth dies, never understanding the cold or the foul fate that claimed it. A snake sheds its skin.