Time flies when you're having fun. Schimmah has always hated that saying. Time only flies while you're having fun? So the rest of the time it schlogs along, dragging every second out for as long as it possibly can, torturing the poor unit of time until it's unheard screams have reached feverpitch and then, only then, it ticks over to the next hapless second. Or the next most hated saying: it'll be over before you know it. No it frikking won't! You're very much aware of whatever is happening and because you're not having fun the seconds teeter by at the speed of senior with a walking stick and alzheimer's! Schimmah grumbled under her breath and turned over onto her other side, curling up into a tiny ball of floof and doing her best to hide from the world. Her nose buried under her tail, each breath poofing up a section fur like some furry dolphin spouting out water from it's airhole. A single tear tracked down her blue cheek, dripping onto the den's floor. 

Raka.

First Daddums, and now her surrogate mother slash saviour slash mentor. Sure Raka hadn't been easy, she had severe memory loss, was prone to violent outbursts, but Schimmah had helped her through it. She'd started to remember stuff. Like her mate and this pack. Then she'd decided to try and find the pack and take Schimmah with her. Because wolves belonged in a pack, she'd said. Because wolves needed each other, and helped each other, she'd said. A pack offers safety, she'd said. Schimmah could only blame herself, if she hadn't tried to help Raka remember, they would still be roaming the wilds happily. Now here she was stuck in this pack full of scary wolves with Raka dead and buried. Raka had tried to get Schimmah integrated into the X Clan. She couldn't figure out why, though. Just because she had similar markings to a male they'd all known in the past? Schimmah didn't even know that wolf! And just because she had similar markings she was punished by trying to be pushed into a little box of where they thought she belonged. Schimmah may be scared, and she may be unsure and not as self confident, but nobody - nobody! - tells her where she should or shouldn't belong. Ok to be fair, neither Raka nor the rest of that scary clan had actually tried to force her to accept them. Even while Raka was alive, Schimmah had avoided her den she'd shared with her mate. The scary face one. At least he'd tried to be nice to her, and the little white wolf, Sara, had also tried to be nice. But she had barely spoken to her own mom. Was that how much Raka had meant to her? Not one of that supposed clan realised how much Raka had done, how important she was to Schimmah. No they were always only talking about Akutan. Akutan this and Akutan that. Oh he was so smart, oh he was so dark, blah blah blah. 

Schimmah had taken an instant dislike to the dark male. His face was always angry, and he only ever thought of himself. And then he'd argued with his own pregnant mate and attacked his own sister and then wanted to kill himself? She growled at that memory - with everyone so close to each other, she'd heard every word and from her den vantage point had been able to see quite a bit. It was that behaviour that had made her decide to avoid the X Clan. They were not worth her time. And even if she were related to them in some way, it wouldn't matter. She had also, that same day, moved her den to the furthest corner away from them, away from this pack with horrible wolves that only scared her. 

Ok, no wait, she chastised herself. Now you're being as bad as Akutan. Not ALL the wolves were that bad. Mercury was cool. In a scary way, sure, actually she reminded Schimmah of Raka. She'd enjoyed finding those moonstones and seeing Mercury looking pleased at her. Ok, that's one wolf. At Raka's funeral there were two other females that had drawn her attention - a brown small one and another one that was also Raka's daughter. Maybe she should go find them? Uh. Huh. Rigth and then what? Just strike up a conversation? Egads the horror. Oh wait - there was that older gentleman, the dad or granddad or something to the red scary one that was pregnant. He was nice. He'd always been nice. And he wasn't scary at all. Hakan, that's it. 

She was on her paws and pacing towards Hakan's den before the rest of her insecurities could keep her there. As she neared it, she slowed down until she was barely moving. How on earth was she going to do this?

Um hi I like you be my friend?

Um hi you're nice be my friend?

Um hi I miss my mom and dad and I need a hug...

Forum Name and Link: Credence - click
Type of RPG: Semi realistic warriors roleplay - sandbox style
Your Button and Code: 

Regret. 

It was the word of the day; Regret. 

What had even possessed him to follow along with their fool's errand he couldn't recall. Oh wait... curiosity, a terrible thing. Something he'd never given to while living on his own. Curiosity was the kind of thing that would get him killed. But he wasn't a loner anymore, he was part of a pack. Alteron was it's name, and they were visiting another pack; another land. Surely it would be alright? Surely it would be swell to see something different?

Wrong... Wrong... wrong wrong ohhhh so wrong. 

The journey had been too long. The others had walked too fast. But worse of all they had traveled during the daylight hours. 
While all the others went forth with the offering of food to meet the wolves of this other pack (giving precious sustenance away, ridiculous), Kritaxius was hiding in the bushes, trying to nurse his wounds. The sun's rays had baked him to a crisp, and the skin on the bridge of his nose, and on his shoulders was raw and cracked. The only thing that had ensured him reaching Inaria without turning into a lump of sores in the shape of a wolf was rolling into whatever puddles of mud and clay they would cross paths with. Unfortunately for him, there were less and less of those as they got closer to their goal. This was a land of bounty and beauty for most but for Kritaxius, it was useless. At least there were bushes big enough for him to curl into and somewhat hide from the sun. 

Well, he couldn't stay hiding in the same spot too long; Someone would think he was up to no good. Progress was slow, moving through the pack lands, when your only option was to skitter from one bush to another. He wasn't very successful at meeting others either, as he was supposed to do... since no one usually paid mind to a talking bush. Kritaxius was very hungry. Prior to joining Alteron, the skeletal wolf had been starving. But the thing about being hungry is that when you're so incredibly hungry for so long, after a while you barely notice it at all. Now he'd barely begun to get some meat on his bones, he was starting to tolerate actual meat rather than putrid scraps and bugs, and he felt like he was hungrier than he'd ever been in his entire life. He'd eyed the gifts that had been brought with them with a sunken stare, but he hadn't been allowed to approach the offerings, much less hold any of it. It's like they'd known he would have eaten some of it... which he wouldn't have of course.... not much.... just... a nibble. No, a lick...

His stomach beginning to growl uncontrollably, he did the only thing he could do to try and satiate it.  He began to eat the leaves of the bushes he was hiding into.

He was sure that this, he would also regret.

Visit Blisswood Forest Here!(: