"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
It is not in her habit to wander far. The world is a dark place for her, and she’s wary whenever she’s not with Sixteen. She keeps wondering when she will get used to navigating blindly, especially when this is all she’s ever known. But she’s just bitter instead. She adores having her brother describe things to her - especially hearing about the sunshine that flanks her and warms her side - but she wants to see them for herself. Wants to know what all the colours he describes actually means.
The hard ground of Pangea gives way to the softer grass of the meadow and Catryn feels the grass tickle against her legs and inhales the scents that tell her an autumn rain had just cleared up.
She moves forward slowly, carefully, until her muzzle bumps against the rough bark of a tree. A soft sigh escapes her and she moves so the tree is at her side and then stands still. What else is she going to do? She's hoping that something will happen and for now she contents herself with listening to the noise of the meadow, the conversations that buzz around her and the undercurrent of nature.
