For the strength of the pack is the wolf...

[Meiilyn]

Meiilyn

..and the strength of the wolf is the pack
..and the strength of the wolf is the pack

The suns rays break over the land that is Beqanna as the burning body of gas makes its slow way towards the apex of the sky. Clumped here and there are groups of horses, every shape, size and colour imaginable. Some have wings or horns or antlers or any matter of extra appendages but all are enjoying the warmth as Spring breaks its hold over the winter.

The suns rays filter down from the sky and break through a medium sized clump of bushes, tiny darts of light dappling the coat of Meiilyn as she lays curled nose to tail on her "bed" of brackish ferns. Black tipped ears flick back and forth as she stirs, the tinkling sound of the water from the nearby waterfall almost lulling her back to sleep.

She uncurls, stretching almost dog-like before rising and shaking the debris from her coat. Her tail flicks from side to side as she pushes through the branches covering the opening to her "den" and blinking a little in the bright sunlight, she makes her way to the nearby lake to quench her thirst. Sufficiently hydrated she takes to cropping the nearby shoots, turning her attention to a beetle crawling up a stalk of grass to prevent the flash of images that threaten to over-take her mind everytime she lets her attention lap.

A half torn rabbit, twisting and spinning like a toy top. Razer beak and a talking louse. Towering canyon walls and a feeling of want and of need. The cloaking of fear she'd felt as the galaxy boy appeared and a half-remember conversation with the same talking louse. Meiilyn's first foray into Beqanna had not been kind to the wolf girl.

[Jesper]

Instead of heading due north the moment Lepis released him from his sentence, Jesper headed south. Of course, a visit to the Forest is on his list but, he does not stop there. He emerges from the shade of a fir tree in his ashy pelt and canine stature. There is something about feeling the pine needles beneath your paw pads that hooves do not quite capture. His steps are light and, balanced evenly. He pauses as his aquamarine gaze adjusts to the brightness of the Field, beyond the Forest's edge. His silver mane yields to the Spring breeze that combs through his fur. Bronze-tipped ears flick left and right as they scan for any attention-catching sounds. Finding nothing to pique his interest or, alert his senses, Jesper strolls ahead.

The spring grasses tickle his belly as they rapidly fill in the bald landscape. In his fox form, the male is much more conscientious of what happens at his feet. Perhaps, it is because he is physically closer to the ground. Or, because his vision is more sensitive to the subtlest movements. For instance, the flutter of a beetle's wings is far-more eye-catching. Jesper tilts his head as the insect reaches the top of the blade and, realizes that it must either take flight or, head back down.

Settling into his study, the ash-colored fox assumes a sit position. His nearly white plumage curls around his front paws, which tuck neatly beneath his shoulders. His aquamarine gaze remains fixated upon the insect and, the dilemma it now faces. All the while, his acute senses are aware of the close proximity of a darkly, dappled gray mare, who grazes nearby. He does not yet acknowledge her though, his radar to detect fellow canines is strong with this one.

@[Meiilyn]

[Meiilyn]

Meiilyn

..and the strength of the wolf is the pack
..and the strength of the wolf is the pack

As the beetle reaches the top of the grass stalk it pauses, hard-shelled wings springing from its carpace as it feels the wind, tiny antenna waving too and fro. It moves as if to take flight but the urge passes and tucking its wings back against itself, turns slowly and continues back down the stalk of grass - heedless that it has an audience.

Before too long the rest of the grass swallows the beetle and Meiilyn sighs, tufted ears flicking back and forth as the shadows of memories loom closer. A spiky clump of grass stabs itself into her nostril suddenly and she snorts, raising her head from where it had been contemplating the bettle. Snorting to free herself of any stray grass stalks lodged in her nose, she tenses slightly as her periphial vision catches sight of a rugged canine settling himself not far from her, piercing gaze seeming to have been watching the same beetle she had.

Her bushy tails flicks against her hocks, ears swiveling atop her head as she stares, some feeling tugging in her brain that this was not an ordinary fox. Somewhere deeper in her blood a sense of familiarity starts to rise. Like does call to like.