try not to worry about what's forgotten

Members of Elkshire, maybe?

---

The changing of seasons.

The changing of weather.

Evergreen trees that remained the same. A spattering of pale green—turning, fading—yellow and orange. Loose leaves that folded and curled, dropped and fallen to the ground.

Mountains that rose from the earth like a mouthful of jagged teeth. Sharp and crooked and curved, all reaching—stretching—towards the sky.

It was getting colder.

Darker, and then shorter.

He scratched at the base of his ear and the side of his neck with one of his back paws, his body twisted and turned, a tripod, momentarily, stood on three awkward legs. He sniffed at the base of a nearby tree, smelled the remnants of deer, a bear, and he stepped—stumbled—forward, one back leg still raised while he tried to walk closer and scratch his ear at the same time.

He licked his lips.

All four of his paws back down on the ground.

And he raised his back leg and peed.

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In all honesty, Lilith had formed a weird fascination with the wolves of Elkshire. They were the Nightwalker's nearest neighbors, and the only other pack that Lilith had ever come across. Many were even related to her, thanks for her father's exploits. Every so often, she came all this way, just to smell them. To cast a watchful eye upon the trees, which stood sentinel and in turn, kept all their eyes pointed at them.

They were a reclusive lot, and the serpent rarely saw others in the mountains that sat abreast their lands, in this cradle of the earth. Only, this time she wasn't a lone — a man approached, then sniffed, and then he marked a tree.

Lilith watched, a narrowing to her gaze. In all honesty, Lilith knew she wasn't great around strangers. Her general penchant for malaise and aberration seemed to drive away those who didn't called themselves Nightwalker, and lived their every day amongst the rot. This was a realization that Lilith was quickly learning to harness. That she needed to learn to read those around her, was another. Control her urges, and carefully direct them towards her goals.

The eidolon placed down a heavy forefoot and braced her hips, squatting down and pissing with such ferocity that the man was certain to hear it, or at least smell it. Not on a tree, or any sort of landmark; just there, on the ground, and the entire time she maintained one-way eye contact with the back of his head, that same narrow look to the peacock of her gaze.

Control herself? Not that day, it seemed.

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The stench and sound of urine hitting the ground.

Hot liquid pouring—dripping, dribbling, running—to the ground. Muffled, by dirt and grass and leaf litter.

His stream petered out.

And yet the sound and smell remained.

He kicked and dragged his back feet against the ground. Dirt and grass kicked up.

And turned.

---

Fucking gross.

He made a face.

Flehmen response.

His ears pinned back against his head.

“The fuck’s your problem, bitch.”

Fucking freak.

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She had succeeded in rousing and riling him, as intended. He spun around and bared his teeth, which Lilith did he best not to react to as she continued to empty her bladder, feeling a small puddle of warmth coalesce near her feet before creeping outwards in liquid, pungent rivulets.

Though she wished deeply that she could have peed freely forevermore (just to see what the prickly brute would do), she inevitably finished. The shadowed eidolon picked up her hips, as ladylike a fashion as she could muster, striding forward a solitary step before kicking dust a curtain of dust over her work, like a mother hen might.

His reaction wasn't really what she had expected, however. He was quick to anger, whereas others might have had a good laugh or two. Lilith smirked, white fangs poking out from behind obsidian lips. "What? You just did it too." She rolled her eyes and shrugged a shoulder, as if to brush it off with an 'oh silly me!'

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‘What? You just did it too.’

He huffed.

“Whatever.”

Fucking childish bitch.

He had better shit to fucking do than fucking talk to her and watch her fucking piss everywhere.

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He seemed simple. An angry, simple man. Lilith cocked her head to the side, as if he were a spectacle and she were his audience. She was expressionless, though the attentiveness of her gaze would suggest that she was entranced. She didn't do anything, and thought even less. Whatever happened next, was entirely in his hands.

Still, she was excited to find out.

 

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He left.

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