"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
A thin yellow moon hangs low and large on the horizon, barely visible between the finger-like branches of the winter bare trees. The stars overhead are no easier to see, and the wind that whispers between the creaking limbs carries with it the icy bite of winter.
It tastes of snow and the bitter north, of bare stone and icy peaks jutting into the clouds. It tastes like home.
I lower my dark head, and the too-sharp nose of the wolf shape that I had chosen.
I have no home.
Releasing the breath I had been holding, I do the same with the tension in the rest of my body, shaking it from my well-furred body as best as I can. It will never be gone, not entirely, but I can push it aside, I can bury it as I always have.
My next breath smells of rabbit, and I turn my head to find it browsing unconcernedly. Having eaten earlier in the day, I am content to simply watch it, the intense focus of my blue and orange eyes fixated on the little animal, barely visible in the dim light. As a black wolf, I am far less ostentatious than usual, and I am grateful for that choice as I continue to watch, unobserved.
Years have long past since the fall of Taiga. Even more years since the wolf packs had dispersed, disappearing into the cracks and crevices of their world. I was no exception.
I was not entirely alone in my solitude though. As a spiritual medium between both this world and the next, I conversed with many past life forms. They each had a unique story to tell and I was glad for the company.
Today though I move swiftly across the forest floor, unattended by a spiritual guide, my orange eyes shifting to place my location in the dim lighting. With padded paws and a thick dark coat, I leap over a moss-covered log before stopping to scent the air.
Winter was just beginning and soon the forest would be bitterly cold, but tonight it was a mild chill. It was times like these I sought out my dens, having multiple in different areas of Beqanna. I was a drifter and never stayed any one place too long so as to remain undetected. I never felt the need to secure a territory, being the only unferal wolf had its perks.
Prepping the dens each seasonal rotation was a never-ending task, but I enjoyed the busy work of it. I turned towards one now located just under the fallen log. Burying my nose into the darkness, I sniffed for intruders. Drawing each front paw up to tidy the makeshift home by casting out built up debris.
Finding this den uninhabited and now in acceptable condition, I turn my sights to the forest, maw parted and tongue pulsing as I pant.
Food was next on the agenda, and it wasn't hard to find, if you had the nose for it.
Head down I begin to trot along a familiar hunting path. Weaving my way through the barren trees, a light dusting of snow rested on the fallen leaves that hardly crunched beneath my soft steps. I follow the trail for some time, maybe a mile or so from my den deep in the woods. It would be easier to catch something with less places to hide.
My travels stretched to the tree line, the icy breeze bringing me the scent of a rabbit. I turn and heads towards it, downwind of course. The crescent moon that hung in the skies was starkly similar to the one on my face, though neither offered me any favors tonight.
The winds shift and another scent fills my dark nose. Suddenly the rabbit is an afterthought as I haven't scented another of my kind in sometime. The stranger's scent was faint, so I assume they haven't been a wolf for long. Truthfully, I have never graced this world with my equine form. Just never felt natural I guess.
My movement stops as the smell lingers. I shift my gaze around the area, seeking any recognizable form in the shadows.
The rabbit bolts, the shifting wind having carried my scent toward it as well. I stand instinctively, my elbows rising from my relaxed position in the grass, and while doing so catch sight of the other wolf.
Immediately forgetting the rabbit, my tail rises, the fur of my shoulders bristling in a warning that is echoed in the brief show of glittering white teeth. The expression - and the sharp teeth - remain even as I shift back to my usual equine form, and then once more back into the wolf.
The transitions will be enough to scare any real wolf off, I have learned. If it sticks around - and judging from the coloring and the striking marking in its forehead it will stick around - then it is something that I probably better off addressing in this shape anyway.
I’ve only recently mastered this form having a strong preference for feline over canine, but my interactions with other wolves has been enlightening. I know why Hyaline had been called the Pack now, having studied the way wolves interacted with each other. I am still learning their language, and am fairly sure my show of teeth and raised hackles communicated that I was neither easy to intimidate nor interested in picking a fight.
To be sure though, I tilt my head curiously, my eyes widening just a little as though asking to see a similar display of power. Your turn, my expression says.
Coming to a stand, my orange eyes strain to pick up the form of the stranger in the dim light. I hardly notice as my supper bolts off.
It is when the other rises from their spot in the grasses, teeth glimmering white, that my attention focuses. The display given by the stranger in a random shift to their equine form is unfazing. This was the form I was used to seeing both in this world and the spirit realm.
My tail rises in response, the dark purple ears seated on my head perking in interest more so than aggression. I had always been more a lover than a fighter. A kind and gentle soul.
Lifitng my nose, I test the air, my eyes remaining focused on the other and reading their expression.
I now take a single step forward, testing the space between us, with a gentle wag of my still upright tail. Having never claimed the territory, I don't feel the deep desire to protect it but I wasn't about to be run out of the area either, if that is what the strangers intentions are.
