when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
A pale predator slinks beneath the shadows on silent paws.
Sometimes the wolf (though a separate part of her; a piece that is wholly herself yet works in partnership) and the instincts that come with it are much too strong for the equine part of her and she will find herself in this form of a dusty rose wolf more often than not. She is not lost within the shape, not at all; only giving in to the impeccable senses that come with the canine, satisfying both tooth and claw by taking to the cold mist of the forests and shying away from the pebbly shoreline of the Cove. But the warmer air seems to have called to her back; wrapping around the thick scruff of the rose-gray of her neck, pants of breath leaving blackened lips as she makes her way further in to this new country, investigating and exploring every part of what she hoped she could soon call home.
Padded feet carry the large yet slender wolf through damp undergrowth and bitterly still trees that border the Cove. The sun is golden as it filters through the dark canopy, shedding light on the mist that lingers on the forest floor; not yet burned away by the sun. Dirt and debris cling to the underside of her belly and darken the once-ivory of her powerful legs - a disheveled appearance for such a majestic creature, though her fluidity and poise throughout the winding forest made up for that fact.
Blood has dried to a dark rust on the bottom of her chin and around her snout, nearly as brown as the dark coffee of her inquisitive and intelligent irises that scour the landscape with each bound over fallen tree, smooth boulder, or large root. A sound - one that is minute and insignificant - catches the sensitivity of her ears and the wolf slows her quiet lope to a trot, lifting her head quizzically to sample the stillness of the air around her. Her nose twitches, the midday sun pooling across her back and haunches, painting the cream canine a near pale gold. Finally she halts, her brow furrowing slightly as the scents around her give no hint as to what may lie in the darkness around her.
She huffs, the sound muffled in her closed lips but strong enough to break through her teeth and travel through the quiet and still air to whatever may lay within the shadows.
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
@[Mazikeen]
<3
also i'm pretending that the cove has some outcroppings of trees and things, cause wolves like that
