─ 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 ─ (15/12)

[_humblebumble_]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐒
♡ arctic fox shift ♡ he/him ♡
♡ tagged . will ♡ mentioned . none ♡ location . tree of tales ♡

Finn glances up, slightly lifting his head from his hands simply to gauge the reaction to his words. He tries not to make eye contact, simply studying the other's face as much as he could. The almost-there grin makes Finn pause, instantly reminding him that he said he thought he was ’cool looking'. Oh god. Finn cringes internally even more, hoping that maybe he hadn’t picked up on that part. It certainly wasn’t a lie, Finn genuinely does find the avian very cool looking. If cool is the right word anyways.. Maybe handsome would fit better. Finn shakes his head once to immediately rid himself of the thought, afraid he’ll accidentally blurt that as well and make the moment worse. Luckily, before he’s able to do anything of the sort, the avian responds.

By furthering the teasing, with some quite frankly adorable theatrics. Perhaps not so lucky. As the guy mentions being disowned, Finn lifts his head completely, worried for a split second that maybe he did actually offend him, though his demeanor doesn’t seem genuinely upset. Finn lets out a relieved breath, and then freezes again at his next words.

Friends! He said they can be friends! He perks up, despite the mention of being exes following directly after the offer of friendship. Finn can power through this embarrassing interaction if it gets him a friend, he was already determined to do so knowing he would be embarrassing himself.

Finn instinctively takes a step back as the avian stands up, though he is finally able to make eye contact, just in time to catch the bracelet tossed at him. Mostly. It does fumble a little bit but it counts as long as he manages to catch it before it touches the ground! Finn peers down at the bracelet again, turning it over in his hand to inspect it. It is really nice for how fast it was created, and Finn has never gotten a gift like this from someone who wasn’t family. He grins, face still red from embarrassment but now also excitement. He quickly looks up again, about to say thank you, when of course he is never given a break.

”And glad to know you don’t think I’m ugly”

Of course the avian heard his comment in his frantic rambling. He can never be free. Finn laughs awkwardly, trying to pretend he isn’t dying inside.

“Um, yeah, of course I don’t!” Finn responds on autopilot, and then closes his eyes, internally wondering if he ever had a filter. When he opens his eyes, the avian is walking away. Finn instinctively steps forward to follow him, surprised at his next words. Finn didn’t even ask him his name.. Nice job on that one. So his name is Will.

“Oh! I’m Finn! I like the name Will, it sounds pretty, why did I say that!” he responds all in one breath, once again training his eyes to the ground to avoid tripping.

“Anyways,” he stutters, “Thank you for this, I’ll treasure it.. Umm… as a return for this lovely gift, I can share some of my food with you. I went hunting earlier and still have some ready to eat. Although some is reserved for someone else, as long as we don’t eat it all we should be okay!”

Finn quickly leads them back to his spot, only stumbling mildly once. They make conversation for a while, with more teasing from Will. Finn keeps switching from blushing to going pale, but he goes the reddest when Will compliments him on his hunting. He tries not to think of the question Will had earlier about canine courting. The compliment on his hunting is definitely a coincidence. Probably.

[azhefa.]

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𝑬𝑵𝒁𝑶 𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑲𝑬
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enzo ● 27 ● male ● avian ● great horned owl ● demisex/panrom ● single, but shy

location; by the river
tags; others mentioned, everly

it was a bit of a spook to himself when everly also spooks, he had thought she'd seen him but it seems she didn't. the owl gives a soft hoot of apology and bobs his head around as if to show he was no threat. after a moment though he remembers this girl was also avian and could understand him unlike the others. "sorry! didn't mean to scare you!" his movements and beak clacking translating into something understandable to the fellow avian. as she spoke, he tilts his head and bobs his head a bit at her question about the council, but hesitates as her gaze lands upon his offered rodent and a blush creeps over her skin.

due to his lack of socializing with other avians, it took enzo far too long to realize his mistake and his large eyes grow impossibly wider in embarrassment. before he could try and communicate his actual intentions of friendship and not courtship, everly speaks up first and makes it known that she understood but it was still mortifying for the owl. enzo ducks his head closer to his body and hoots softly. "peace offering. friendship. sorry, sorry." the translation from action to words was rather jumbled due to his flustered movements. perhaps it would have been better to just say hello.

enzo nervously chitters as she invites him to join her and the others for supper, but agrees since he could use a proper hot meal. he follows the girl with odd bouncing steps until he realizes they might be a bit low on meat with only the one rodent. enzo hoots as if to say 'i'll be right back' and quickly flies off in search of more food. it takes him a good several minutes to spot another rodent and several more minutes to finally catch it. he takes his prize to where he left his gear and quickly shifts and dresses before heading back to everly and the others with his catch which he hands over with a small shy smile and a soft blush before sitting and idly listening to the others chat and the fire crackle.

[White Eagle]

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◈ Cis-Male ◈ 27 ◈ Bisexual ◈ Avian ◈ Species: Golden Eagle ◈ Occupation: Historian of Anthropology ◈ Skill: Expert Tactician
◈ Scent: Cactus and Old Paper ◈ Location: Tree of Tales ◈ Mentions: Erica, Canines, Felines, and Ursines◈ Tags: Erica
◈ Word Count: 693

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── When Erica asked for Lonen's opinion on the other shifters it grabbed his attention immediately. The sharpened knife paused mid-slicing as Lonen's eyes stared at the vegetable. His mind was trying to best formulate his opinion without it straining or influencing things. "Well," he said before clearing his throat. "If you must know. Familiar with the dark serious Canine?... I have no assurance to him. If we do separate and he is in my expedition tomorrow I am supervising him with prejudice. As for the other canines, they seem harmless or at least not intellectually capable of ulterior motives." The canines spoke to Lonen briefly so he was able to get a quick overview of whether they will be useful or not. Zander and Finn seemed to be following a positive trope that canines are friendly best friends to people. But Lonen was still suspicious of Foalon.

── After his statement, he looked back down at his knife before proceeding to chop. With a deep inhale he uttered in a disappointed tone, "Then the Ursines seem to just be neutral. However when I requested the Ursines' documentation...Uh, what's his name?" He paused his chopping to look towards the sky while he tried to jog his brain. "Kal-? I recall it was Kalland. He started a brief discussion on the task at hand and ourselves. So I conclude he is a level-headed man. While the other pair may require some patience to become tolerable. The female seems to be more positive ie bubbly from what I gathered." As he finished his sentence about Zoe he finished all of his choppings so he placed the knife to the side before glancing towards the pit he dug earlier. A constant flame surrounded a burning iron pot that was held by a makeshift spit of thick dead sticks. Lonen picked up his board and walked over to the open cookware before moving his head over the rim to feel the heat. With one hand to his side, he poured in avocado oil from a glass bottle. Within seconds a hissing sound of applause was heard by the two Avians as he cooked the corn, peppers, squash, and beans.

── "The felines, however...I am very unsure. In my brief observation, I have a haphazard dissolution regarding their involvement within our assignment," he said while stirring the items with a wooden spoon. Calmly he hit the spoon against the rim causing a reverberating sound to emanate before he carried it with him to his station. "I yearn for a tomato. Shame they do not retain freshness for long." He opened a giant warm jar of a honey-colored liquid and took a sniff before explaining, "While I created the maps I boiled the saved bones from our prior meals. A simple broth for our soup." He carried the jar over to the pot with his left arm while he held the wooden spoon in the other. Quickly he stirred the hissing vegetables around before he kept the spoon in. In one motion he poured all of the liquid before placing the container to the side and enclosing the pot. "But the soup should be stewed in approximately half an hour. Unless Everly decided to cook any meat acquired on a hunt."

── When he heard Erica say her good night he could not refrain from raising an eyebrow. "Not hungry?" But upon her explanation, he nodded back before saying farewell to her. Lonen knew the soup could probably fill eight bowls because he panned on them having food for tonight and then tomorrow night if they failed to find more prey or crops. After the soup was complete he made sure his Avian buddies or their guests ate prior to retiring to his sleeping spot. As stated to Erica he made sure to clean himself and his clothing that night with just the moon as his light source. With his clothes still damp he hung them on a bare open tree branch as he wore his secondary outfit. The Avian took one last look at the camp and the other shifters before closing his eyes and sleeping until tomorrow morning.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐯𝐚𝐬
tagged | mentioned all shifts| location tree of tales, Canine territory
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Morning came with surprising softness, golden rays filtering through the massive branches of the Tree of Tales. Though he’d woken hours before, Vas still moved slowly as the sun crept higher into the sky, packing his belongings tightly into his bag, and making a meager breakfast for his companions. He’d never claim to be a cook, and he’d claim sentimentality even less, but still he caught fresh meat, cleaned, and cooked it. It felt achingly comfortable.

The sun rose higher, votes were cast, groups were made, and destinations were picked. In a life lived for someone else, partings never held much weight for Vas, and though he wasn’t sure what exactly he felt when his companions faded into specks on the horizon, emotion sat like a heavy rock in his chest long after the Tree of Tales was lost behind veils of haze and steam.

The travel was steady enough, and though there were newcomers and chatty members, a palpable tension hung over the group. As they passed back though the sulphuric pools - Sometimes memory exaggerates and sometimes it’s horribly exact; Vas wished his memories of the pools had been the former, but the burning in his nose was just as terrible the second time - the tension didn’t dissipate but rather settled into the new normal, not comfortable so much as liveable.

They reached Canine territory quicker than Vas had anticipated, and despite himself, he felt a deep satisfaction at traversing into new lands. It felt free in a way nothing had before - a sentiment mirrored by unbroken horizons and wide, undulating plains of golden grass. Maybe there was something to the nomadic life after all.

The seasons were just beginning to shift to the colder parts of the year, and for miles around everything was painted in hues of yellow, orange, and red. In the mornings, a thick fog settled low over the grasslands, burning off quickly under the brilliant sunt, but their days were marked by a notable crispness that lingered into the afternoon.

Vas kept to himself those first days, uncertainty and inexperience turning his tongue to lead - not that it had ever been silver. He regarded his companions through sweeping glances, parsing what information he could, but the now-familiar tension kept his gaze from lingering.

That tension was broken, oddly, by the first infected attack. In the far north, scent is scarce, blanked by the cold and muffled into a shadow of itself, but here, in the south, the smell hit Vas like a wall. Rotting, cloying sweetness forced its way down this throat, and he choked on it before the infected shifter lurched into their path. This time Vas didn’t look, didn’t let any of the details sink in, didn’t let the horror linger, moving before his mind could tell him no. Claws and fangs emerged in a breath, but Vas didn’t stop until the infected shift was unrecognizable as anything formerly mortal.

He could not have stood it otherwise.

It did not escape his attention who fought back and those who lingered, but no resentment came with the observation. Stark honesty was better than hollow placations of aid - bloodshed cut to the heart of a person. Vas had been a late speaker, words clumsy and unwieldy in his mouth, jumbled like pebbles - clattering, awkward, painful - and he’d never trusted them. But he trusted the truth of danger, savored in the language he knew best, and saw his traveling companions for the first time. It was a relief.

It was easier after that; easier to talk, though only in low, short grumbles, easier to move, no longer pulled in on himself, easier to be. Vas found himself lingering longer in the company of his quieter companions - their presence far more comfortable than the ones who chattered. The glittering Feline, Narah clearly disdained him, but he paid her no mind - years of serving the prince showing their true worth in patience - spending most his time by her companion, Mave. It wasn’t an intentional move, but a natural one, falling into pace by the quietest companion who didn’t seem intent on violence. (The sea dog smelled of violence. He did his best not to linger by her.)

Supplies began to dwindle just as smoke rose up in the distant horizon. At first, Vas thought the brittle golden grass had been caught ablaze, but as they crossed the crested swell of a hill, nestled in the valley below were tents stretching as far as the eye could see. Fabric fluttered in the breeze like the undulating grass, and sounds of life filled the air. Clattering carts, massive horned animals, brightly dressed shifts, trays of steaming food - life. His chest ached terribly.

They took the night to rest, and replenish supplies - but in truth only a handful of memories remained from their time among the Canine. A golden drink with a pleasantly warm burn reduced his night to a blur of sweet words and something even sweeter lingering on his tongue.

It was gone by morning.

The settlement had a bridge built for journeying across the nearby river, and Vas thanked every lucky star in the sky that he had not gotten sick over the side during their crossing. He’d been too long without a drink from the Forge - going back now might truly kill him.

As the days crept steadily into weeks the open sky that was once a promise of freedom now became a cruel mockery - every horizon looked the same, and their progress felt impossible to track. Worse yet, Vas had begun to feel on edge, a trepidation bleeding into his every movement - he couldn’t place the source, but the hair on his neck hadn’t laid flat since the Canine city.

They had been going on the Avian’s word for directions, chasing their promised ruins, when the group came upon a second river. No bridge greeted them here, no clean solution, and Vas could smell the tension beginning to build once again. The river was wide, wide enough they could not clearly see the other side, and though he wasn’t sure who first suggested it, raft building became their new mission. The stuff of legends.

The process took days, the bear’s emotions swelling under the steady drip of frustration - Vas wanted to keep moving, itching to be though the open expanse and moving on with their mission. Instead he had countless splinters, and sawdust up his nose. When they were at long last completed, the rafts looked more akin to bundles of logs than aquatic transport, but they had no more time to waste. And then the glittering Feline broke down.

Vas had ignored her pointed looks of distress all morning, but when it was time for the last raft to depart from the shore and she refused to board he simply could take no more. The wasted days, the lingering ache, the constant tension - Vas hauled her off the shore and tossed her on board in a fluid motion, her panicked shrieks ringing in his ears. They capsized almost instantaneously, and he was forced to repeat the process, only now with a substantially more slippery Feline. The scratches would take weeks to heal.

But days later when they were attacked by a pair of infected shifters, Vas was thankful that he’d hauled the cat along after all, her claws meeting their mark before he’d even shifted.

By now, the weather had grown markedly cooler and the days markedly shorter, but the group continued at their pace, often making camp after night had fallen. Monotony once again marked their days, a steady grindstone rubbing Vas raw with its persistence. Vas half expected that they would continue on this way for weeks more, a kind of numbingly dull torture, and had begun convincing himself to attempt making conversation with the chatty silver haired Canine, though the best he could come up with was a half-hearted remark about the weather.

It was probably for the best that the group all at once found themselves on the precipice of a cliff, a sudden valley having formed where two massive rivers met, churning up earth in their connection. Conversation about the weather could wait. The air was filled with the dull roar of distant waterfalls, and instantly that feeling of freedom came rushing back, a potent swirl of something terribly akin to hope settling in Vas’s chest.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐟𝐚𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧
tagged | mentioned| location tree of tales, canine territory
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Faolan wasn’t pleasant the morning they left - he isn’t really ever pleasant - but a palpable irritation settled over him like a shroud when the groups had been chosen, and their destinations had been decided. Had anyone been watching, they might have noticed the twitch of his eye when his fellow Canine was named - though perhaps it was just a trick of the hazy morning sun. He had not lingered through goodbyes, and shared no kind words of parting, instead brushing past his former companions in an inky silence.

As the group moved east Faolan slipped easily to the back, cutting through the steam of the Neutral territory a few paces behind his nearest travel companion. His uniform of black remained, as ever, untouched by the journey, the red clay vanishing where his silent footfall met the ground with a rhythmic precision. Perhaps he was following his own tracks back around the verdant pools of boiling liquid. Perhaps he just preferred the company of steam to that of his companions.

When they gained elevation into Canine territory he lingered even further back than before, and his movements were drawn taut like a bowstring pulled to its limits - ready for release. The primordial landscape of the Neutral Territory gave way to the undulating beauty of the Canine’s homeland, but the harsh contrast seemed entirely lost on Faolan who slunk through the land with that tension lingering in his every action.


For his marble facade of cool indifference, if one looked, his thoughts were written plainly in movement, in the near imperceptible twitch of an eye, in the bunching of his shoulders. Though most nights he lingered outside of the warm glow of the firelight, when it grew so cold that frost dusted the ground in the morning, he drew closer, the flames dancing in his midnight eyes. In these moments it became easier to read him, the peeling back of his lip in a silent snarl in the direction of the new sea Canine, the darkening of his gaze at Avian chatter. Days slipped by like water.

The first infected was dealt with swiftly, and perhaps for most of his companions the horror of the attack distracted from Faolan’s sudden absence. It was as though he had dissolved back into the dark dirt, now stained with red - there one moment and gone the next. He reappeared after night had fallen, and though it was an unseasonably warm evening, he lingered by the fire, his gaze more often than not cast over his shoulder, peering into the unknowable dark.

After this, there was a shift. Nothing so big as to be praised, or even truly noticed, but if Faolan brought down a big kill he would eat only his share, leaving neatly carved portions for any who wanted them. From his position in the back, he snapped small twigs off trees as he passed, making bundles of fire starter that he’d silently drop near his companions come nightfall.

But whatever slight progress had been made dissipated like a breath released on a cold morning when the horizon was dotted with the tents of the massive Canine pack. Faolan himself vanished in the undulating waves of golden grain, slinking away into the oncoming night as the group approached the large pack. The warmth of the fires never touched him.

But in the morning, a few bottles of amber-colored drink were missing, and his pack sagged slightly.

He did not sit by the group’s fire anymore even on the coldest nights. The days bled into each other, a monotonous sting of blue skies and golden grass. Faolan seemed unmoved by the repetition, continuing on as he had before, his movements steady and sure as always, though he was betrayed by the twitch of his fingers and the scowl on his face, irritation beginning to scratch his unflappable facade.

At the second river crossing, there was once again a shift. His hands were steady as he helped cut down the liber trees, and he silently demonstrated how to twist the amber grass into rough rope. His hands were already marked by calluses, the lingering evidence of his solitary life, but they thickened under the days, and nights of heavy labor.

When they were at last completed, Faolan did not hesitate as he stepped onto the first raft leaving shore, though his gaze lingered slightly on the jeweled Feline who stood further away from the water’s edge. His raft, pointedly, did not capsize.

The monotony of their continued journey was broken only days later when the second attack came. As in the first, Faolan vanished almost instantaneously from his now usual position at the back of the group, though this time he rejoined them within hours. When night fell, he again lingered by the fire, gaze cast into the dark, shadows flitting across his face.

Where he had been tense before, as the days dragged into weeks Faolan now seemed to be walking a knife’s edge, his patience razor thin. Emotion swirled openly in his dark eyes as they roved wildly across the open landscape, never settling, never ceasing their movements, and even as night fell, Faolan’s searching seemed ceaseless.

The sudden change in landscape from open plains to the deep, cutting valley seemed a welcome change, though Faolan was unmoved by the break in monotony. If anything, his gaze moved quicker, scanning all around as the group began searching for a way down into the valley, following the instruction of the Avian hawk. But for all the tension in his gaze, Faolan’s movements seened certain, familiar. Perhaps this place was not so alien to him.

Eventually the group settled on picking their way down an angled cliff face - though the descent was steep it was not impassable, but their pace slowed to a near standstill. Packs were often taken off and passed down before the wearer followed, and as their progress continued at a crawl even Faolan provided what aid he could, the sun slipping continually closer to the horizon. It seemed none of them were interested in spending a night on the cliff face.

Feet met solid ground just as dusk fell, and exhaustion hung heavy in the air. Faolan’s chest moved in a steady rhythm as he tucked himself up against the cliff face, and though his shoulders slumped with uncharacteristic slack he gaze remained fixed into the night as he sat, unmoving, fists balled so tightly his knuckles shone white.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡
tagged Mave | mentioned| location Tree of Tales Canine territory
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Narah didn’t believe in luck, it was nothing but a promise told to simple people, a placation against the harsh reality of chance...but still she felt distinctly lucky to hear that she was not traveling into Ursine territory. Her gaze sought her former traveling companion, an odd sense of relief filling her when it was determined that they would travel together. She was mostly able to convince herself that the relief was just a lingering nostalgia for home. Mostly.

As Narah packed her bag, her gaze swept across the assembled group, noting those saying their goodbyes, and those pointedly not - she’d said a word or two in passing to the late arrival Felines, but in truth they were little more than strangers. She had no doubt that they, like all the others assembled, had been given instructions to obtain the cure for their own means, but there was a kind of honesty in that, a certainty that they would meet again. So she was no sadder to see them go than she was about leaving the Tree, and as they parted Narah found she had nothing to say.

The thought of moving, of journeying to an unseen land, filled Narah with an odd excitement as the Tree faded into the distance. It was easier now, knowing what task was at hand, to focus of what lay before them.

The excitement lasted all of two hours.

Traversing the sulfur pools was painful, to say the least, the horrible smell clogging her nose and making her vision swim, yet it was nothing she could not withstand. She had done it before. But where traveling with Mave had been a blessedly silent affair, now the air was filled with happy chatter and the sound of crunching boots. It made her head ache, and she moved in odd patterns around to group to gain what little space she could.

As they rose steadily out of the sunken territory and into the land of the Canines, the fresh air was a more soothing balm than any cold compress. Narah sucked it down greedily as they gained elevation, settling more comfortably into the middle of the group, as the days slipped by in a haze of mountain passes and colder nights that she had ever felt before.

When they passed over the final ridge, Canine territory sprawled out beneath them, all golden and seeming to gleam under the high sun. The sky was an unbroken banner, a brilliant blue that danced into shades of purple as nights settled onto the land. Stars filled the sky like the glittering tapestries of navy silks back home, and it filled Narah with a deep ache each night.

The days passed quickly as they left the mountains in their wake, their world slowing becoming unbroken plains of grass and gently swelling hills. They settled into an easy routine early on, and though Narah lingered by her feline companion, the chatter was decidedly less painful among the waving fields.

The first attack came just as quick as the croka - a pattern, she’d later muse - though this time there was no monstrous face, no animal jaws snapping…at least not at first. At first it was just a shifter, their face contorted in a visage of fury, spittle flying through the air that Narah cleanly stepped away from. In the back of her mind she praised herself for not freezing again, for keeping her wits as she slipped backwards, putting distance between herself and the infected shift. It was an instinctual move, meant to buy her time to observe her prey, meant to give her the edge - but the infected was down before she had even begun to shift, reduced to a bloody pulp that she couldn’t quite look away from.

The tang of blood in the air seemed to linger even after the group left the sight of the attack, clinging to them like a horrible promise. That night, she slept as close to Mave as the leopard would allow.

The Canine pack was a blessed relief, rising like a ship on the rolling waves of the plain, and Narah was quick to ingrain herself with the friendly shifters. Words of praise fell from her lips like jewels, and she humored their questions and pestering stares with a tight smile. It seemed that endearments worked, and in no time she had bartered for a bath and a meal - when she slipped into the heated waters of the wooden tub, she nearly wept.

Narah lingered as long as she could, scrubbing whatever grime she hadn’t managed to wash away with a daily damp rag until her skin was glowing, perfumed by the citrus floating in the bath’s water. Her hair was coiled into gleaming braids, and adorned with her usual crystals and metal rings. The meal they gave her was deliciously spiced, and when she lay down on the stuffed duvet in her rented tent, she was lulled into a deep slumber by the sounds of parties and the distant rustling of the swaying grass.

Leaving the pack was hard, and a childish part of her wanted to demand another day’s rest but there was work still to be done. Crowns still to be won. And in truth, there was only so much dog smell that she could take.

As the group pushed on, boredom settled in like a horrible new companion as Mave’s days blurred together under the endless blue skies. Still, she held her tongue, swallowing her complaints and making as polite conversation as she could manage each day. She’d grown to tolerate the ebbing and flowing chats partaking from time to time in soft tones as it became the easiest escape from her growing feeling of unease.

In truth, Narah was all but certain that they were being followed. Ever since the Canine pack, she could sense it, being watched and it made her skin crawl. She’d thought to bring it up to Mave, though to ask the other feline if she felt it too, but stopped. There was no way that the sensation was lost on the snow leopard, and so Narah kept silent, turning the information over in her mind as her gaze constantly sought out the source of her unease.

And then…a river.

Narah held her tongue through their decision to build rafts (even she had to admit, it was likely their only option), through the building process, even through the morning of their departure. But when it came time to get on the raft, she simply could not. The open maw of the croka was all she could see, all she could smell as she gracelessly began to refuse. She tried to argue that she could walk around the river, could catch up, that there may yet be another way across, that perhaps the bird has his directions mixed up, anything, anything to not get on the water.

When the bear threw her onto a raft, and subsequently into the river, she nearly clawed his face off - not for lack of trying. When they reached the other shore, Narah was still dripping, and stalked off before the others had gathered their gear, lest she try again.

For the next couple of days, Narah simmered in her rage. If she had taken a moment to be honest, the rage was not for her companions, not for the humiliation of her forced dip, not for whatever it was that followed them, not even the seemingly endless march into the Canine expanse. No, her rage was just a shade that her building emotions had finally settled on, an amalgamation of everything. It was the first sensation that kept her truly grounded in weeks, a childhood friend as familiar as the silence she sunk into. She nurtured her anger, fed it scraps of irritation, and cradled it in her chest at night.

By the time the second attack occurred, Narah was almost grateful for the opportunity to cut into something. She reduced flesh to red ribbons before she was even aware that she’d shifted. When she was done, not even pulp remained.

By the time the cliffs broke the even ground of the Canine plains, Narah had returned to herself, head held high as she cast her gaze down into the valley below. The journey down was at first a blessed change, and though her grace helped in navigating down the sheer face, it quickly became tediously slow. When they reached level ground in the dying embers of day, Narah simply unrolled her bedroll and slept.

Morning came in an unexpectedly soft haze, low clouds hanging over the valley casting a cool pall over the unnatural valley. Narah rose on silent feet, packing her bag with efficiency that could only come with weeks on the trail. As others woke she nibbled on a piece of spiced jerky, and cast her gaze once more over their surroundings. The valley was golden as the land above, though it was spotted with still green trees fed by the meandering rivers that laced across its floor. The feeling of being watched was lesser here, but still her eyes shifted over the landscape as the group discussed their moves for the day.

The group was near the most northerly tip of the valley, and, for the first time on their journey, the Avian faltered with his directions. It seemed that whatever information he’d been using to guide them had run short.

As had Narah’s patience.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲
tagged Joey| mentioned| location tree of tales, ursine territory
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Everly sniffled as she pulled Will into a tight, short hug, her throat aching terribly as she choked out a goodbye. Splitting up had always been a possibility, she knew that, knew it from the beginning, but it didn’t make the parting any easier. The gentle morning breeze rustled the flags above them and stirred Everly’s auburn curls as she released the hawk, still sniffling as she tried, and failed, to force a smile. “Stay safe, yeah?” It was far from eloquent, but it was the best she could manage as her sniffles devolved into small, short hiccups.

Earlier, after the votes had been cast, and the groups had been split as well as anyone could manage, she’d sought Will out, pressing a small cylindrical shape into his palm, one that mirrored her own nestled in the folds of her robe. A part of her was glad it was Will she was giving it to, she trusted him, trusted that he’d know how to use it. Trusted that he’d bring it back. That trust had made it easier to school her expression into a warm smile.

But now at the time of their goodbye, she couldn’t keep the brave face she’d held before. Through tears they parted, though she couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder at his back until they were specks on the horizon…then nothing at all.

Once the sting of her lost friend settled to a dull ache, dissipating like the steam of the sulphuric pools they traversed around, Everly sought to distract herself with chatter. She was quick to get the names of the group members that she was unfamiliar with, repeating them in a soft, sweet voice until she knew them all by heart.

Satisfied, she continued on, approaching the Ursine as the group continued steadily north through the Neutral Territory. Since learning of their destination she had questions, and though he only answered roughly half, she was thankful that he humored her as long as he had. She’d thank him later with an extra serving at dinner if she could swing it. After that she turned to whoever would talk with her, questions and stories spilling from her lips as easily as air, only lapsing into silence once her head hit the pillow.

If she let the silence linger, it all would be too much.

The first fews days passed like this, a comfortable routine of walking, chatting, cooking, and sleeping - familiar and simple. Every now and then, Everly would pause and glance at the instrument hidden in her robe’s folds before chirping out what direction the group should move and resuming her cheerful questioning. The metal soothed her as she turned it over and over in her hand, memorizing its grooves and nicks, slowly growing colder as the molden pools dipped below the horizon.

As they gained elevation and rose out of the sunken neutral territory, excitement sparked in the sparrow’s eyes - they had entered Ursine territory.

Pine engulfed the group, replacing the steam with a cool, crisp scent that Everly reveled in. It clung to them in their every movement, and she couldn’t get enough. As they traveled further north, her excitement remained undwindled, drinking in all the sights and sounds that she could, and scribbling haphazard notes on whatever paper Lonen would lend her. Though she still chatted with anyone who would humor her, she was quieter here, her voice soft and sweet - it seemed wrong to break the stillness of the pine forests. Unnatural.

Within days, mountains began to bracket the group in on all sides, towering cliffs of frozen rock vanishing under the low hanging, persistent clouds. Boughs of snow now marked their path, and Everly was delighted to find that she could dance across their ice crusted surfaces without breaking through. For the most part. As though snow in her boots would stop her.

With each turn of the sun, Everly was forced to add a layer, before long pulling on every piece of clothing in her bag each morning, her movements becoming stiff under the layers of fabric. Even bundled up as she was, the sparrow was colder than she had ever been before, and a chill settled deep in her bones.

And then the blizzard.

It seemed like the world was still one second, quiet, holding its breath, then nothing but white, howling winds the next. Their paces hadn’t been anything remarkable before the storm, but the group ground to an immediate halt. There was no shelter to be found in the stark land, and they were forced to hollow out giant snow drifts at the base of the pines and bury deep inside to keep warm, sealing the entrances with their cloaks and plunging the interior into darkness. It’s hard to be chipper when her teeth won’t stop chattering.

Days passed like that - in the dark, and biting cold, with the winds howling and Everly shivering hard enough that speech became impossible. She huddled close to anyone who would let her, leeching off shared warmth as she began to list formulas in her head to keep herself distracted. When the formulas made her head spin - perhaps she had a fever - she switched to stories of home, remembered songs from her childhood, and turned over recipes of warm food in her mind - their shelter wouldn’t support any kind of a fire. When it came time to eat, Everly shared what dried meat she could, she’d carried a surplus since the Tree of Tales, though even that began to dwindle after a few days.

By the time the blizzard let up, Everly would’ve cried with relief if she didn’t know that the tears would immediately freeze on her cheeks.

Emerging from the shelter she was forced to squint - the sun wasn’t bright by any means, but so many days in the dark made her vision swim. Her head pounded in a dull ache, and her limbs felt stiff with misuse. Idly, she made a note to ask the Ursine if they hibernated, and why.

Walking warmed her up, if only marginally, and so she was thankful as the group began to push north once again. Her shivering let up enough for her to reach into her pocket and verify that the group was headed in the right direction, though even that became a struggle as she tried to remember to keep the tool hidden from sight. The cold was slowing her brain, she was certain of it. Even when bundled in all her layers and moving, the cold still stabbed through her parka’s fold like a driven nail. If she closed her eyes long enough, the lashes froze until she could not see. A stupid, naieve part of her thought that surely, it couldn’t get worse.

Bundled up as she was, Everly didn’t hear the thundering sound of bysoon hooves until they were upon the group, all horns and shaggy white fur speckled with blood and viscera. Later, she’d spend most nights lying awake and trying to place what exactly the viscera was. She never figured it out.

The horror of the attack left her in stunned silence for days.

And then the first thing to break her silence was the strangled cry of surprise that left her lips at the Ursine attack. Again with the blood and snapping maw, claws that came all too close to her face before she was yanked backwards by one of her companions. With trembling hands her homemade explosives went flying in a perfect arc before finding their target - though they made little difference. Even once the infected shifter lay in the snow, staining the white a deep red, Everly could only muster small, soft gasping sounds.

Supplies were scattered about in the snow, and Everly was dimly aware that the wind was beginning to pick up around them, but she must have been in some kind of shock because she doesn’t remember any kind of a debate. She just remembers dropping down off the mountain, days of traveling down, and then, blessedly, a city. A warm city.

The Forge.

The group slipped into the city under the dark embrace of oncoming night - later she would wonder why they chose to not announce their arrival. Coin changed hands, and they were ushered into a small, camped building with a crackling fire in the hearth. It was heaven, and when Everly burrowed under the thick furs of her temporary bed, she at last burst into tears, exhausted sniffles sending her to sleep.

The morning found the sparrow in much lifted spirits. Everly had risen before the sun, and had already made a list of supplies. Keep talking, keep moving, don’t let it sit. She spent the better day haggling for clothes lined with thick fur and blessedly warm food, undeterred by the scowls of the Ursine at her distinctly Avain nature. Night came too soon for her liking, and she had to be dragged back to the inn.

Leaving the Forge was hard, but it was made somewhat easier by the promise that she’d return some day in far less dire circumstances. The group made considerably better time as they climbed back up into the mountains, this time undeterred by blizzards, and horrors, and the wild. Up and up into the clouds they climbed, the mountains soaring above them like spires of a crown. The weather pushed at them, but now they pushed back, the pace never breaking.

Until Everly had no more directions to give. Startled at the lack of answers from her little device, she pushed the snow goggles that she'd purchased in the Forge up, squinting around them in confusion. She had to raise her voice over the mounting wind - perhaps a storm was on the way, as she called, “I think we’re here! Wherever ‘here’ is…”

[Ashton_99]

≺⊗𝕵𝖔𝖊𝖑 𝓚𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉⊗≻
≺⊗ Brown Bear Shifter ⊗ He/Him ⊗ Tags: North Team/Mentions Vas/Everly ⊗ Location:Ursine Territory ⊗≻

Perhaps it was simply his nature, but saying goodbye and parting ways did little to the shifter. Kalland had come to the Tree of Tales only knowing two people, after all. He had enjoyed Vas's company, what little company they kept, but was glad he had been split onto the other team. He trusted the other shifter to get their work done. As well, with Zoe being in his group he felt reassured in not being the only Ursine.

As they traveled, the declining heat had been a blessing, it was the only one that Kalland could account for thus far. He thrived in the inhospitable north. The rising peaks and towering pines were familiar and natural for the Ursine. The natural quiet of the world was the balm he had been seeking ever since he had been forced to once again join the world of others. It made the questions of the others more tolerable. It was not as if he disliked people, but, perhaps, he had mused only a few days in, he was simply not suited to be around others. The avian, Everly, still seemed amused enough by him at least, what with her endless lines of questioning.

As they got deeper in to the Ursine territory, their pace slowed. The harsh weather was a natural part of his home. Howling winds and dark skies were a regular companion as Kalland grew to be the person he now was. Others in the traveling group were not nearly so lucky. Especially when the winds turned. Kalland felt the coming storm deep within old wounds.

The time spent in darkness was dismal. Morale was low and Kalland was not the sort of person who could even begin to fathom how to fix that problem. He was not a socialite, he was a hermit. There were several reasons for that, his lack of eloquence certainly being one of them. It was not as if he could not understand their perspectives, but the notion of the familiar territory being too much was a purely foreign concept.

When the blizzard calmed, it was as if spring had returned to some of the members of the expedition team. Tentatively they stepped out into the low light and began to move forward once again. Progress was slow with the fresh blanket of snow and in that time Kalland had taken to shifting. Akin to a shepherd he made rounds from the front of the group to the back, attempting to ensure that no one fell behind or suffered too horribly. It was his own sense of duty making him do as such, no one had assigned him the role but he found himself fitting comfortably into it regardless. It also saved him from most attempts at sociality. He was more than happy to allow whichever shifter that felt so inclined to speak to him to do so for as long as they wanted, so long as that shifter would not expect much of a response back.

In his Ursine form, Kalland functioned even easier in the weather. The large Ursine shifter felt little of the cold under thick masses of brown fur, scarred and powerful musculature kept him moving at a steady pace. He had almost allowed himself hope whenever he recounted their growing progress.

But of course, delicate things like hope and optimism were not the Ursine way. And Kalland had been reminded of that soon enough. Bysoon were fairly benign when left alone but the herd that descended upon them was deep in the throes of hysteria. That memory of the stampede was further darkened by the knowledge that there was something in the woods- something nearby- that had caused them to run. Kalland slept very little after that night.

Perhaps that had been for the best, however. Due to the sharp edge of his nerves, Kalland had been ready when the infected Ursine shifter attacked. His well-practiced fighting skills had evidently not deteriorated. The thick scent of disease and the frothing maw of the infected were sickeningly familiar to Kalland as he had joined the fight. Later he would compare it to the first attack he and the other Ursine had experienced.

Having to go to the Forge for a second time in nearly four years was its own special kind of torture. The loss of supplies necessitated bartering for replacements. Being in the Forge had made him nearly miss Vas. The prince's vassal and he were not friends per se but the man would have had a certain pull as they went about restocking what they had lost. Commerce in the Forge was a peculiar thing, many Ursine were not the personable sort and that was reflected in their business transactions. Kalland himself had not stayed long in the cramped building they had acquired for the night.

With little more than a nod he had gone back out into the cold winds, human-formed and needing to be free of the oppressive feeling of togetherness that came from keeping company with the same group of people for an extended period of time. To imply that any bar in the Forge was high-end would be laughable. Nonetheless, the establishment that Kalland had sought out was especially horrendous. Even as a younger man, Kalland had not taken many trips to the Ursine city. When he did though. He always went to the same bar. Black Maw Bar.

Despite it having been years by that point, little had changed about the place. Unsavory people doing unsavory things. Kalland had been aware of eyes on him since he had stepped into the bar. Ursine, particularly the sort who frequented that particular establishment, distrusted outsiders. Mostly, Kalland had ignored the stares.

That was until he had caught a familiar gaze. At first, he hadn’t been sure why the man had looked so familiar. The other shifter had dark hair and a horribly scarred visage. Only one of the man’s eyes remained the dark color that he had been born with. The other had long since clouded over, ruined by the scar that tore down the side of his face.

It was when Kalland could nearly scent the fear of the shifter over the thick smells of the bar that he remembered a name. That he remembered their fight. For a moment, the brown bear shifter had been intoxicated by the familiar trill of power. He had caught the man’s gaze. And he had grinned. The black bear shifter all but ran. Fleeing from the bar with a slight limp from an improperly healed wound.

It was only late into that night that Kalland allowed the guilt to flood in. So easily, all of his progress had been swept away. It had only taken a moment and for an instance, he had become the version of himself he had been attempting to move forward from. He kept his head down for the rest of their time in the city.

Leaving the Forge had been easy. He felt no love for the Ursine city, instead, Kalland embraced the wilds readily. Scaling the peaks came with its own issues, but Kalland would relentlessly push forward so long as he did not have to stay at the Forge. He spent time in both of his forms, being able to carry more equipment while shifted was useful but it required him to eat a certain amount of sustenance and he would rather they not have to ration again. Doggedly he had moved forward, once again renewing his efforts to keep others from getting lost or terribly injured. If he was still unable to be completely the person he wanted, he would continue to do that much.

As the air thinned, Kalland watched the world around them vigilantly. The winds were picking up again, and as of late, that seemed to spell trouble for the group. Perhaps that was why Kalland stalled when Everly declared them here. He shifted the equipment he carried, taking a moment to figure out what they were supposed to be doing next. The Avians supposedly had all of the answers and yet, the spry sparrow seemed lost. “Fantastic,” he intoned. The heavy, gruff quality of his voice was only furthered by his decidedly unenthused tone. His squinted gaze was turned up to the remainder of the peak above them, studying the exposed outcroppings amongst the snow. “Now what?”

[JDDracula]

ᒍ O E Y
_______________________________________________________
dire wolf • twenty-two • heterosexual • the group • Urisine territory
_______________________________________________________

The dire wolf shifter had been awake before the sun rose, and before the rest of the group. Joey had always been great at functioning off only a few hours a sleep, as he had vivid nightmares since his accident. He sat around the dying fire waiting for the rest of the group to wake, eating the scrapes that was left from the night before, as he had missed supper with the mishap he had with Faolan.

As the others slowly began waking up and packing their things up to head out on their journey, Joey took one last trip to the river in fear that they wouldn't run into running water again for a while. He took a quick bath, changed into a fresh pair of clothes, and was sure to wash his previously worn socks before putting on a new pair, as he didn't want another smelly situation to happen.

Heading back through the trees and back to the Tree of Tales, the canine spotted the rest of the group saying their heartfelt goodbyes. A few were crying, a few were visibly upser and nervous, and a couple didn't see to care at all. Joey looked around the crowd to and spotted the white haired canine he had traveled weeks with, and felt a sort of connection with him. Though Joey didn't make friends with the group, persay, he didn't feel a bit of sadness that Finn was leaving the the other group. As he approached him, he smiled and placed his hand on the canines shoulder and gripped it firmly. "See you on the flip side. Stay alive, alright?" he said with a grin. He was never good at goodbyes. He then turned his attention to the group that Finn would now be traveling with, and shouted amongst them, interrupting them, "Make sure you guys look after this one, okay? I dont want there to be any problems if he comes back with even a scratch on his head." He felt a bit of protectiveness over this one specifically.

Once Joey had waved off the rest, he grabbed his bag and headed towards the group he would be traveling with, swiftly passing Faolan, and turning his head as he walked by in silence. "Goodbye friend. Don't die," he joked, as he waved him off. He was only joking of course. Or maybe he wasnt. Only he would know. Joey took off in a small jog to catch up to Zander, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning on him as they took off.

Their journey started off fine. The weather was still hot, and he still complained the entire trip like a toddler. He could tell that a few of the people in the group were getting annoyed with him, and he found it as a chance for a bit of entertainment. Every so often he would find himself poking at the ones that shot him snobby looks, and the one he loved to focus on the most was Asha, occasionally asking her random questions, even if she ignored him.

As the days went on, the weather got colder, and Joey found himself mostly staying in his shift to stay warm, and it was more convenient to carry the belongings of the others who were too cold to carry anything. Although he wasnt a fan of the cold, he preferred this over the heat any day, although his companions would say otherwise. He would occasionally poke fun at Everly, telling her that if she ever wanted any warmth, that should could stay close to him and he would gladly warm her up.

Although Joey had no issues with the cold, when the blizzard came, it was a different story. He found it hard to stay in shift, as his nose and eyes were quickly burried in snow, no matter how many times he wiped his face, so while the blizzard went on, he stayed in his human form. He wasn't too prepared for the cold weather, so the only thing he could bundle himself in was a few shirts, a jean jacket, and a thin hoodie he decided to bring last minute. He kept his hands tucked under his arms to keep his hands warm and shivered the entire time. Some of the group were awfully talkative, but as the storm came, the talking came to a quick silence, so Joey found himself filling the silence with his awful singing, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the harsh winds, and when they rested in their homemade tents to stay warm, he curled himself up in a ball and sang quietly to himself in the darkness to distract himself from the fear he felt.

When the storm let up and the group was able to, once again, head back on their journey, it was quickly halted by the sound of the infected Urisine herd. Everyone tried to stay as quiet as possible the entire time in hopes that the herd would pass them on, and they did. Joey was not the only one who could not sleep that night, and it was safe to say the majority of the group stayed up during those few awful nights, having nothing to do but keep each other company. Joey spent most of his time conversating with Everly, as she and Zander were the only two who seemed to take a liking to him, or so he felt. He need some kind of comfort, and thought that making jokes or poking fun may be inappropriate after what had just happened, and how the group had been terrified, including him.

Joey was still fairly talkative as they continued their journey. That was, until, the second attack of the infected. He could sense them before the attack came near, as the smell was rancid, and was something you could never forget. Joey was prepared when it happened, pushing the vulnerable shifters behind him, ready to protect them and fight. He fought the entire time in his shift, feeling a rush as he ripped into them. It wasn't easy, though. They were stronger than he thought, and he didn't come out of the fight untouched, though he only had a few stratches, and was out of breathe by the time it was over. When he came out of his shift and caught sight of the first stratch, he panicked. That was, until the others reassured him that the only way he would be infected would be through a bite. That put his mind at ease.

After the attack, the dire wolf grew fairly quiet. He was staring over his shoulder after every corner, and stayed behind the rest to make sure they would not be rushed from behind. He found himself sleeping very little, if at all. Joey was very paranoid, and felt that he had an obligation to make sure that the others stayed safe. If he felt himself nodding off, or falling asleep, he would periodically tap himself in the face to stay awake. His eyes were heavy and black, and was sleep deprived for the rest of the trip.

Once they arrived at the Forge, he felt some small comfort being around other people with buildings that they would hide in, in case another attack were to occur. Joey knew nothing of this place, and honestly didn't want to stick around too long, considering that his father had been killed in this terroritory. He watched to see what the others would do. A few headed off to get some good nights sleep, and others headed off in other directions. The canine shifter finally decided that he would follow Kalland into this small bar. He needed a drink afterall, even though he had never been much of a drinker.

After a few drinks and the room began to spin, Joey stumbled off to the place where the others were sleeping. He shifted into his wolf form, and curled into a ball outside, letting his eyes close slowly. He had every intention of staying awake to make sure danger was no where near, but with the amount of sleep he had gotten, he deserved it.

The next day, him and his companions were back at it. He wasn't too pleased with leaving the safe zone, but they had an objective that they had to complete, and he was determined now. He stayed to himself and was still very quiet for the rest of the journey. That was, until they reached their destination. He examined the area, seeing nothing in sight. He hoped that when they arrived, their part of the cure would be sitting out in the open waiting for them to collect, but how naive could he be? "So... Where do we look first?" he asked desperately, wanting to get this trip over with now.

[Ashton_99]

⤆◈𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 ℂ𝕒𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕤-𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕝◈⤇
⤆◈ Ferruginous Hawk Shifter ◈ He/Him ◈ Tags: East Team Mentions Everly ◈ Location: Canine Territory ◈⤇

All in all, saying goodbye to Everly had been the hardest. Under the shade of the Tree of Tales, he had slung an arm around her and muttered his goodbyes. Even with his grin, always crooked, in place, it was still hard to choke down the emotion. He and the Sparrow shifter ran on similar wavelengths and their friendship had been one of the few that Will had successfully managed to maintain over the past few years. It hurt a bit to say goodbye to his friend, even Will could admit that to himself. When after the vote she had discreetly slipped the second of their two secret weapons into his hand, the implications of their journey had become more real to him. No longer was it flying in shifts, musing what it would be like to not come back. Will had to be responsible now. The heavy thoughts tugged down at his smile, making it appear as almost a grimace. “Ah, since when have I ever done anything ‘safe’ huh?”

For a moment his attention had run over all of the other Avians save the one that would be going with him. The warm breeze had still smelled of sulfur as they departed, “Fair winds, Ev’.” His shouted goodbyes to the others were decidedly less full of emotion.

The sulfur pools proved even worse than Will imagined when he had to walk through it as a human. While he had managed to mostly stay clear of the vibrant clay, the smell felt stuck to him for a while after.

As travel went on, Will found himself in a peculiar position. While he had been happy to scout for the other Avians, what he was doing now was not scouting. Guiding required him to be human and constantly watching. While he was most certainly not a solitary person, never had he been looked to lead the way. He had always been too busy with his own machinations, an unintentional solo act. With his new role, having Enzo in his traveling group was nice. The other Avian was not the most confident, but even his second-guessed attempts at helping navigate were appreciated. The other shifters were something of a mixed bag. While he could happily go about teasing and questioning some, making conversation with others was about as easy as trying to draw blood from a stone. When the harsh lands of the neutral territory turned to mountain and then into the grasses of the Canine territory more joined their group. He felt a tad apologetic about their meeting. They were having the two canine women turn right back around as soon as they had arrived, but there was little other option. It was not as if they could try to send them after the other team heading into the Ursine territory.

Teasing Finn had been a favorite pastime at least up until the sick-sweet smell of rot had washed over the more scent-aware shifters. That first attack had been horrifying. It was the first time that Will, in his journeys thus far, had actually seen such a thing. A person gone mad and then a mess that was hardly anything at all. He had, at the very least, gotten some new information about other kinds of shifters that day. Or at least information on how some of them fought. After the attack, Will’s teasing, easy mood ceased its full force effect. He was not on constant edge, but there was a certain amount of distance he kept around himself. He wore a particular gaze as they moved along, one that marked him as deep in his own mind despite his eyes still trying to catch movement among taller grasses.

He had been positively jazzed when they had run across the Canine pack. Will found easy companionship among them. His personality similar enough to the friendly group he had met that for a night at least he could breathe. The hearty sounds of the Canine music lifted his spirits. During the night he had been able to dance and laugh and ask as many questions as he pleased. Most of them ended up being directed at Finn as Will had not strayed far from the Fox that night. Crossing the first river the next morning, Will knew he was not the only one supporting a lovely headache from the golden sweet drinks the night before.

The days wore on. The hawk shifter knew truly that their endeavor was the definition of the blind leading the blind. He was also aware that many among them were already less than pleased with the Avians guiding them. He did not want to be the one to break it to them that all that he was doing was following a makeshift compass. After all, he liked all of his limbs to stay attached, thank you very much. Raft building, at least, had provided a welcomed distraction. To build was Will’s purpose and he did so readily. The process still took time, of course, he and to his knowledge, most of the others had not done such a thing before, but the maniacal surge of satisfaction he felt was euphoric when the things actually held weight.

He had politely pretended not to notice the water dripping from one of the feline shifters when she had joined them across the second river. Teasing was an amusing pastime but even he had self-preservation. During all of this, Will’s own hypervigilance had not ceased. He was not a stupid man, he knew well when he was being watched. Even while shoddily cobbling together rafts that knowledge had not faded. Whenever the monotony of travel set in, that knowledge would come to the forefront of Will’s mind and he would become even more acutely aware of that feeling and of his group. He would notice and dwell longer on the finicky comings and goings of a few of his traveling companions, wondering more than once how long it would take before one shifter or another attempted something.

The journey was not the grand adventure Tatiana had waxed poetic on. He was really hating the old woman. The second attack did a lot to cement that feeling. Chemistry was not his main area of focus- that was more Everly’s thing- still Will had a few tricks up his sleeve and did what he could. Truly, though, there wasn’t much he needed to do. The angry Feline shifter, among others, took care of the disease-mad shifters quickly.

The valley came next and Will felt an odd sort of anticipation as they picked their way across the sheer cliffs and narrow, natural paths. He had little factual sense of the distance remaining on their quest, but it made no difference. He felt that they were drawing near and that was enough. Despite being a person of fact and invention, he knew well that gut instinct had its uses.

The next day, standing at the front of the group at the water's edge Will felt vindicated. Oh, they had arrived at their location alright, whatever it was supposed to be. He spun around, opening his arms and not minding the rivers behind him, “Well, this is as far as I can get us. Now, who wants to wander around here aimlessly and look for ruin entrances with me?” He was wearing that same crooked grin and internally settling with the fact that he might lose one or two limbs after all if they didn’t find anything quickly.