04-23-2025, 07:06 PM
“A dog,” she growled at the shape reflected in the pondwater. “A bloody dog.”
At the edge of a murky pond stood a pale-furred wolf, hackles bristling with indignation. She expected oblivion. Senseless, all-consuming nothingness, devouring what remained of herself. That was the price she was meant to pay. Instead, she had been made into this. She snarled, and the beast in the water snarled back, ivory fangs gleaming in the gloom.
She had been—unwilling—to see herself. Not since she had first opened her eyes under the boughs of a green fir tree, its roots encircled by wildflowers. A part of her had hoped this was some dying dream, or a hallucination sent to torment her. Yet the pain in her paw was too sharp, the blood that pulsed in the wound too fresh. She inhaled, and for the first time saw the world in smells.
This new scent-sight had guided her to the base of a tall jagged mountain. She sat now by this little pond, though this water was not clean enough that she would risk trying to wash her wound in it. No: she needed a river or a creek.
She turned away. She could not look back. If she looked, she would have to think, and remember. And that was a wound she did not know how to deal with.
Instead she swivelled her ears, listening for any sound of rushing water. Yet what she heard was not water, but footsteps. Pawsteps. Another wolf.
Velyre whirled around to glare up at the stranger, ears flattened against her skull in instinctive wariness.
“Who are you?” she blurted out.
@Runar
the staff team luvs u
At the edge of a murky pond stood a pale-furred wolf, hackles bristling with indignation. She expected oblivion. Senseless, all-consuming nothingness, devouring what remained of herself. That was the price she was meant to pay. Instead, she had been made into this. She snarled, and the beast in the water snarled back, ivory fangs gleaming in the gloom.
She had been—unwilling—to see herself. Not since she had first opened her eyes under the boughs of a green fir tree, its roots encircled by wildflowers. A part of her had hoped this was some dying dream, or a hallucination sent to torment her. Yet the pain in her paw was too sharp, the blood that pulsed in the wound too fresh. She inhaled, and for the first time saw the world in smells.
This new scent-sight had guided her to the base of a tall jagged mountain. She sat now by this little pond, though this water was not clean enough that she would risk trying to wash her wound in it. No: she needed a river or a creek.
She turned away. She could not look back. If she looked, she would have to think, and remember. And that was a wound she did not know how to deal with.
Instead she swivelled her ears, listening for any sound of rushing water. Yet what she heard was not water, but footsteps. Pawsteps. Another wolf.
Velyre whirled around to glare up at the stranger, ears flattened against her skull in instinctive wariness.
“Who are you?” she blurted out.
@Runar
the staff team luvs u
