forget all the names we used to know
There’s a barren stretch of land between Taiga and the Beach. Just a loose smattering of low ridges and a few trees that nestle comfortably against the foothills of a lake, where the dividing canal cuts Beqanna across. Southwest of the Forest is a place Crevan loves to roam. He feels as if this uninhabited spot has long been passed by, simply forgotten in its purpose and only important in the sense that travelers had to cut directly through if they wished to cross into northern territories. True; the lingering smell of wandering horses was stronger now that Taiga had been brought low, but the young wolf has been coming here nearly all his life. Naturally, after years of cumulative appreciation for this bypassed corner, he feels inclined to think of it as his own.
So much so that he’s stolen a page from his mother’s book and hollowed out a den into the base of a lonely rock spire, only a stone’s throw from the stretch of water. This is where Crevan rests now; two cream-colored legs stretched lazily across the threshold of his warm home so that his bulky, pale head can rest atop them. Heat waves are not uncommon now, so deeply is Summer embedded into the atmosphere, and he combats this by avoiding midday hunts altogether in favor of cooling himself on the packed, red clay of his shadowy den floor. His satin blue eyes are trained lazily upon the wide ribbon of sparkling lake water, one ear flicking noncommittally aside to search for sounds of wandering prey.
Boredom was settling in.
From above, a shadow blots out the sun. Rising, curiosity overcomes the ivory wolf and he slinks out from under the cover of his secluded getaway to try and eye the source, but the sunlight has his gaze smarting until he’s rendered nearly blind. Blinking away the spots from his vision, Crevan rolls both shoulders and shakes once, twice, before his body shifts quickly into his horseflesh. Canine to Equine, in the snap of one’s fingers. Now a sooty gold stallion, he purses dark lips to offer a low, throaty bellow in place of a howl. Whatever or whomever was gliding around would have to be deaf to miss it.
revan
@[Canaan] So, obviously this is taking place on the little unmarked section of land just south of Taiga and east of Sylva, but for board reasons I posted here in the Forest
