Who am I,

@Welkin

Wondering aimlessly through the land, unnoticed by the scenery that changed before. Steps that would be taken back and yet the land we once knew would not be there. Yet, he continued expanding to what was thought his endless reign, a throne and a crown onto his head as any who seemed to give a glare, or upon his path to be taken down by a strike. Trotting through the woods, huffing as he goes while tearing through the meal of a elk, delicious as it was — it tasted different, not the one's that was familiar — but the hunter of the woods did not care, for in the end all was but the same.

Prowling through the darkness, there was the bear.

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Cloudwatching.

What a strange and seemingly useless pastime.

Pressed flush against the alabaster snow, a pair of angular shoulders embed themselves within the gelid granules. The malleable drifts billow upwards in compliance, spurring the surrounding flakes to action as they settle against millions of nebulous hairs. On the contrary to conventional opinions, Welkin relishes in the anodynic ache that permeates throughout her depleted joints. The meditative and chilling cold always manages to trump the protests of her aggravated body, which currently sends flaming embers whirlwinding within her tendons. A hefty sigh of relief whooshes buoyantly from her parted maw, sending tendrils of breathy steam flurrying upwards in hasty gusts.

A concentric gap within the coniferous treetops provides an expansive view of the sky; of the whitewashed, billowing columns of clouds that tower over the nearby peaks, leering at the immovable stones and their lesser heights. Attentive to their indiscriminate movements, Welkin crafts fantastical scenes from the morphing shapes– here there is a doe with six spindly legs, and there a misshapen bird with a pitifully small wing. She is so enthralled by the unpredictable metamorphosis that for a moment, her qualms are cast aside. A distraction was what she had needed, something to detract from the severity of her loss and allow for a moment of solitude from her newfound companion. As much as the blonde’s chattering kept her loneliness at bay, the constant white noise had grown suffocating today and her instincts longed for a placid moment of composure.

There is a significant piece of herself, once vacant and hollow, that is now brimming to the cusp with embittered fury. Of how agonizingly close she had been to obtaining everything she had ever wanted and more, only for her kin to strip from her everything. Her nobility, her inheritance, her companions and her security-

What is there to keep her heart thrumming?

All that they have left her is smithereens of broken pieces that she has yet to gather up and glue back together.

She needs the adoring and fulfilling attention of other wolves, craves it like some addictive drug.

But right now she is having withdrawals, and all she wants to do is cave inwardly on herself.

Stupid family, stupid new world, stupid wolves and stupid me.

”Gah!” snarling, embittered, Welkin embraces the urge to hurt, to destroy something just as the world has to her. Galvanized to volatile motion, she throttles towards a motionless pine to grapple at its armored bark; shredding, pulling, snarling, as flecks of wood tarnish her pristine form.
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The sounds of others, barking and frustration to be heard that the bear noticed was that of a wolf. Beings that were a menace, alone were nothing and yet as a pack have taken down more then a few of bears. Scars aligned under his fur, for uniting against their force was not uncommon, especially as the tendency to claim more then what is available, is known as a wolf-factor. Prowling through the woods, a bear mark upon the trees as they claw it all — an agenda to claim all that the world sees, a chaos, for a crown lays upon their head with a dead-black eye staring to those down his path, and claws.. Coming forth to the call.

Approaching through the shadows, emerging from it's embrace and into the sunlight ; large and proud they were, lifting upon his hindlegs and roaring, at the wolf.

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Adelaide trotted through the woods, humming a merry tune to herself. Her tail was raised high over her back as she pranced through the woods: she was in a wonderful mood. Her new companion, Welkin, had proven to be just as steadfast as Vorona was to her, but she was afraid. A nervous itch crept under her skin when she thought of him and she increased her pace, anxious to return to her. She happened upon the woman tearing through a sapling pine, chunks of wood flying through the clearing. 
“If this is revenge for getting stuck in that stump, I think you’ve sent a very clear message,” Her words were teasing, but her tone was soft, she could see the distress in her new companion’s eyes. She pressed herself against Welkin’s side and lifted her head so that her ears were flattened under her chin. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice as gentle as her fur.  

The hair on the nape of her neck stood up and she stiffened suddenly, separating herself from Welkin. “Someone is coming,” she said quietly, “I can smell it.” Her intuition told her to turn, and at first she didn’t fully understand what she was seeing. A mass of brown fur was lumbering towards them, but it wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen. It had wicked claws, beady, intelligent eyes, and suddenly it rose higher than she thought any animal could. When its maw parted and it roared, flecks of spittle fell from its lips and landed in the snow. For a time she stood frozen, staring at the hole where the drool had fallen.

“Bear,” she said calmly, the shock of their encounter leaving her strangely calm. She wondered if this was how rabbits felt when they saw wolves coming, she wondered if they counted their breaths and minutes they had left. Suddenly she came to her senses and a guttural scream tore from her throat, “BEAR!”
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Blunt nails penetrate through the peeling bark, filching from the tree its brown coat of armor. The rigid planks splinter to hundreds of smithereens, giving way in compliance to the volatile force propelling Welkin’s assaults. Beneath her insubstantial wake the loam upturns in dirtied clumps, staining the disturbed alabaster in swathes of muddied browns. She is tunnel-visioned, dead set on her aimless endeavor of wreaking havoc upon the innocent pine. Anger, reddened and ugly, sends flecks of spittle flying shamelessly from her gaping jaws which snarl embittered at the resistant wood.

But then…

Through the frenzied thrumming of her heart, of the throbbing whine within her lobes, a voice- indistinct and seemingly far-off, grapples for her attention. The familiarity in those honeyed words beckons her leafy eyes to avert in submission to Adelaide’s coaxing tune, settling upon her arriving figure.

”What’s wrong?”

Sullied by flecks of grit, Welkin’s lobes flatten promptly against her skull, cringing inwardly at having been seen in such an emotional state. She’d had no clue Adelaide had been lurking so close to her own whereabouts.

The blonde was improving at moving undetected. Had it not been to Welkin’s own detriment, the noble may have granted a kernel of praise to the guileless maiden.

”Nothing is wrong,” she sputters, protesting against the tremulous quiver that threatens to erupt from her voice. The sudden and soft touch from her gentle companion sends a jolt of electrifying shock throughout her tainted canvas. Starved of such attentive touches, Welkin embraces the abrupt moment of comfort, even if it is fleeting.

Thank you.

”Someone is coming.”

She can feel the corded tension running taut within Adelaide’s diminutive structure, the subtle prickle of her uplifting fleece that stirs at her throat. The sudden rush of cold air, permeating through the bubbling warmth in her chest, prompts her motionless body to movement. Indistinct and muted by enveloping shadows, a burly figure lumbers through the surrounding wood. The hefty thump, thump, thud of steadily approaching footfalls can be detected within the snow-coated earth; tremulous quivers from deep within the soil that galvanize nearby foliage to haphazard action.

Vacant, beady eyes are the first telltale sign that peep from the undergrowth, followed suit by a titanic form of mortifying musculature. The surrounding undergrowth bends and bows in the bear’s wake; submitting to the will of the ghastly beast, which imposes its rearing figure over that of the wolves.

Welkin has never felt so small and insignificant.

Adelaide!

The blonde’s words cycle repetitively within her frightened noggin- not strong, not agile, not quick.

Lying dormant, some primal instinct within Welkin roars to life- maternal and unrelenting. It ensnares any instinct to flee, to run and not look back.

”Adelaide…”

This time her voice is trembling.

”Get out of here.”

The bear is mighty in structure and impossible to beat in matters of physical prowess, but that divine strength brings with it its own set of drawbacks.

Welkin is quicker.

The noble positions herself as a shield to the blonde, her molars peeping in a defensive snarl.
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A wolf upon the bark, scratching and tearing in mimicking that of a bear — yet not alone, as a glossy-sun came through and spoke words they did not know. Unknown languages and barking that resounding within the bears ears, a huffing and growling of an annoyance of disturbances of the land and mind, head bursting with a pinge of pain and a roar, emerging from the behemoth's throat.

A paw swiping downwards, carrying little to who it was aimed from and yet — bravery unearthed on the moment as the forest-woven wolf struck into the front, covering the dainty thing. But would any matter? The hunter of the forest roared and growled, spit flying as their stared through beady black eyes and an angry claw swiping before the other.

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