these my dear old father sang me when at work with knife & hatchet:

backdated to a few days after this; apologies for short weird sounding @Asamir & @Thraximundar

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[narrow width=800]when she thinks she's had enough of lying in that dark, enough of remembering remembering remembering, she fled from the fortress like something expelled ...but, perhaps that was why she had only sought it; some malignant place for the one she had run them both from. yet when she had gained it, the nightingale had taken her son by the shoulder and promptly spirited the pair of them away away away; and where once she would have taken in the great swath of winterbloom beauty all around, she can only the delicate red fronds underpaw as she trods between the valleymeet that cradles her frostchant on its easterly cusp.

well — theirs, for asamir is with her, and the seat of their home is their people.

wordlessly, toothlessly, she turns back to her boy of nigh eight moons; cannot help what bids her to check that dark, sweet face for any wounds or scrapes acquired; neverminding her own that still ache, drawn deep through her temple all dark silvered red with bits of salve still clung to. there does not seem to be anything amiss, as physically as she can discern; so the sotaherra withdraws thusly with a wearied nuzzle, before turning back to the long winding road once more.

cloudrest would be within reach in due time;
and all she hoped who still remained.[/narrow]

the staff team luvs u

 The large beast lumbered across the landscape, heading up towards the deeply frozen lands that he knew. His nose was sharp even though it had dulled a bit in his age. He knew exactly where he was going, exactly where he was headed. Although this place, this landscape of flowers and grass and scenic views. He knew it and yet he felt that he also didn't. It was a familiar feeling, one that he attributed to his age and of memories that were difficult to keep track of. He would do his best to memorize this now, the contours of the hills. The shades of the flowers. 

 The white fur of the she-wolf. 

 His tiny ears perked, head lifting high as he stopped and extended his neck towards her. He huffed, loudly, an attempt to let her know that he was there. He did not want to frighten anyone; he was only curious as he always was. He also noticed another with her, a small boy, wounded it seemed. His own face creased with concern as he would slowly draw a little closer. He would stop and raise onto his hind paws, showing his full intimidating size though that was hardly his intent. This posture was one of curiosity so that he could see and smell a bit better. "My young lad and lass, are you in need of any aid?" The bear calls out. He had no home or pack but he could offer food if she needed rest. Perhaps he could even forage for herbs if told the right ones to grab.

the staff team luvs u