⚶. 𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙢 » closed

[slaughter beach, dog]

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────────────────────────────────────────── 𝙃𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 ──────────── ─ ─

LOCATION; campfire > sawmill ─ TAGGING; Audrey ─ MENTIONED; Dimidian ─ WC; 1,775

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"I doubt I could be tamed," she spoke, almost as a dare. She fed the words to the fire as kindling, a portentous musing that promised her things she had likely never witnessed before. A short and resolute hum left her, any fear now a helpless breath against the steel she had forced deep into her chest. "Screw bears."


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An inferno razed the restless plane of Erika's dreams, greedily devoured more ground, advanced with the lashing limbs it threw forth into scorching veins across the forest floor. The view was rendered in gold and black, and biting smoke swirled among the trees, not unlike fog, but with a hue that spoke of toxins and danger. Charred bark buckled and snapped, branches warped and splintered into pieces under the duress of the climbing heat. Trees crashed and groaned through the disfigured canopy, unleashing showering sparks and bursts of bright and tangling flame in a wasteland of ash. To stand in this storm was to cheat death. Again.
indentinMaws of burnished brass yawned among the shadows of the swaying skeletons, left straggly by the burning hunger that raced up a conical path toward the sky. The world darkened with billowing smoke, the promise of the end and the spirits of thousands of dying trees. It was a wall of death that reached the height of the clouds, a cliff that threatened to dive forth and take out the rest of those that still stood at its feet. Golden caverns broke like lightning flashes in the curtain, the blackened silhouettes of jagged trees burned like candlewicks in tongues of great orange flame. She breathed in the death like votives to a punishing god, breathed easier than she ever had.
indentinThe wildfire hummed with the force of a liturgical choir in the hollows of an ancient cathedral, and the fiery mat of the forest floor succumbed to enticing lights, crackled and sang. It was deafening, tumultuous noise, but it was quiet and clear in her head. On this pyre burned the bodies of her friends, the bear, the memories; dead tongues whispered only in temptation and encouragement. The grabbing hands of emotions that had dragged her and pinned her down to the ground for weeks withered in the fire, deteriorated to flaking ash. It ate her fear, her grief, her anger. Left only the constant purpose of retaliation, of destroying the past and clawing out a future from the cinders.

indentinA collapsing crash drove away the fire in her dreams, had her waking with the urgency of fingers snapping next to her ear in air that was brisk, but the bitter smoke did not subside. She noticed the chill at her side, but the earth and damp foliage in her senses quickly took precedence over the novel scent of the face she could only remember seeing draped in firelight. I've had this nightmare before. Erika gasped air into her lungs, jolted into full consciousness with a defensive twitch of her arms, and exposed her eyes to the light leaking through the fractured canopy above, but there was no blood on the breeze, no mildewy fur, only the stinging smoke rising from the scorched skeleton of the building by the river.
indentinBurning fractures still snaked in the cores of crumbling beams and jagged staves of lumber stuck out from where structures had caved in. A part of the rafters collapsed with a creaking that ended in a snap and sunk into the mound of cinders that sent out a rolling wave of ash. The minefield of empty bottles strewn between herself and the ruin had Erika inwardly mapping out her body, but she found no aches, pains or nausea. Even her shoulders felt better, free of the stiffness she had gotten used to waking up with. She had always been quick to bounce back after a party, but her condition seemed to have bolstered her resistance to a nasty hangover. Good to know.
indentinShe climbed up to her feet, found her balance after a night of impromptu camping, and wandered to the edge of the burned down building, planted her boots where the heat of the fire had withered and the smoke had darkened the vegetation. Erika fished through her pocket for her lighter and another cigarette, and lit it with fingers that weren't trembling from fear or remorse, but a thrill that closely mirrored misdeeds from another life. This sawmill had taken a lifetime of burdening memories with it, and it was an experience of cleansing catharsis. This was the answer she had been chasing all along.
indentinThe click of the lighter brought back flashes from the night before, tactile memories of the metal fidgeting between her fingers as she stood before the sawmill in the dark. She did not usually care to remember what she had tried to bury the previous night, but the fragmented recollection of events began to needle at her. How much had slipped her tongue? What had she shown? Anything and everything seemed too much now, in the dawning day that threatened to cast a revelatory light on the fractures that were better left in the dark. Had she bitterly confessed that she had not been born a Seaver, born to be stuck in this town? Had she laid out her entire history rebelling against the chains of this cage? The possibility made her skin crawl.
indentinBut she could also remember a tattoo. A breathtaking one, far better thought out than anything Erika had ever done in her life, anything she had ever committed to. It had raised questions about who this woman was, where she had come from, and why, but she had not asked any of them. According to Erika, those were not the kinds of questions strangers in the night were to ask each other. Moreover, there was an ungraspable grandeur about this entire creature, and that... that was intimidating to consider in daylight.

indentinGolden light painted the tops of the pines that grew scattered toward the rift in the woods. The purling of Black river was a placid backdrop to the groaning destruction at Erika's feet, and the water that smoothly lapped at the shore and ran across rocks as white foam drew her eyes further down the riverbank, to a figure crumpled on the pebbles and rusty earth with her feet in waters Erika knew to be frigid by this time of year. She thought about running, fleeing the scene she had made, because Audrey was clearly capable of taking care of herself, but her bearing was a little too familiar, sometimes from the bathroom mirror. Since when do you care, Erika Seaver?
indentinShe let the cigarette between her lips soothe the small, fleeing animal in her, reasoned with herself that this woman likely would not find her way back to the cabin if she had found herself in a state where she could not even get further than the river. The care was foreign, it did not sit well in her body and it refused to settle there. She had always been the wrong shape for concern and compassion, and she most definitely had been the wrong shape to be the target of any manner of care not made obligatory by guardianship, and later too unlovable even for that. You're just looking out for a hungover buddy, it's fine. Except it was not, because she had never stuck around after a party. Once the night was over, everyone was on their own in these woods. And yet, here she was.
indentinErika emptied her lungs of cigarette smoke, stamped it out with uncharacteristic consideration, because it was probably the last thing Audrey wanted to smell right then. She waded her way through the clinking bottles and drew out the dark flannel from beneath, sending them rolling into the scraggly underbrush. There was a scent she now understood was distinctly Dimidian, and she had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to speak of a chance that she would end up being chewed out before the day was over. Great choice, Erika, utterly top shelf. She approached Audrey with the ease a sheep felt while crawling into the jaws of a wolf. There was a look in Audrey's eyes that she recognized well, the quintessential oh, Erika, you've gone too far this time, but it brought a strange comfort with the knowledge that if Audrey was the one to run, Erika would not have to.

indentinA frog croaked somewhere in the reeds as Erika let the river's water wash over the toes of her boots. She clutched the flannel in one hand while computing in her head how she was going to manage this. Emotionally? Physically? Both?
inden"I get that we don't become sick like people do, but there are better ways to rid yourself of a hangover than bathing in freezing water in the middle of fall," she offered, doing her best to understand whether her help was something Audrey even wanted, or whether she was off the hook for this one. But she was looking about as wan as Erika had ever seen anyone ─ bordering on I'm about to ruin your shoes. Erika glanced back the charred heap of debris. The weather just might have kept the fire from showing all the way in town, but it would probably be for the best if they got a move on, because she was not about to waste another night of her life in police custody.
indentinErika held out her empty hand, and when Audrey took it, she hauled her to her feet and let her slump against her side. She offered her the flannel and adjusted her grip, all the while fighting against the rising tide of panic that usually sent her kicking and tearing down whatever good was about to form. She would have blamed the wolf for that now, and maybe if confronted, she still would have, but she knew that it had nothing to do with that. It was purely her, purely Erika, to bristle and tear down anything that might have threatened her right to be resentful over the hand she had been dealt.
inden"I'll drop you if you puke on me," she warned, just to ease her own anxiety with a reminder that this was definitely not care. She released a silent breath, avoided looking at Audrey's face and focused on not tripping over either of their feet. "Look, I don't know what the deal between you and Dimidian is, and I don't need to know, but I'd like a warning if I'm going to get shanked in my sleep."

[phayraoh]

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𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘖𝘕 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘛𝘌─────────❝ you know I'll take my heart clean apart, if it helps yours beat ❞
twenty-three yrs ▪ she/her ▪ hunter
location: bonfire [timeskip to cabin kitchen -> porch] | tags: quinn, coraline ; dimidian, yehuda | mentions: dutch, arden, sao
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--indent--Dutch was the first to approach the table, hesitance stilling his body. Heron offered him an inviting smile that progressed into a beam when he gave in and helped himself to a bowl. When he offered her a hollow compliment in return for the food, her brown eyes softened into concern. She took no offence from his flat words; how could she, when discomfort radiated from him in waves? Her heart unfurled like petals of shielding wisteria, offering what she had to the battered bee searching for repose. Her packmate recoiled as suddenly as if she had bared thorns at his underbelly, driving an acute sting into her chest as he turned away, shifting moments later into his wolf form. Heron stared at the abandoned bowl of stew until she picked it up and dropped it unceremoniously into the trash bag dangling from the edge of the table. The wolf inside of her bared its teeth, but she dismissed it harshly. If she wasn't who Dutch felt most comfortable with right now, that was fine; she couldn't force anyone to be anywhere they didn't want to be.
--indent--Sighing, Heron gathered up a bowl for herself, drawing a swift veil over her crestfallen expression when Quinn approached for his share of the meal. The smile that curved her lips was genuine, though, brightening a part of her that had been receding into shadow since this morning. "Ah, well, we wouldn't want Yehuda in charge of the meals, would we?" she replied, recalling the several infamous catastrophes that had occurred in the past when the young wolf attempted to cook.
--indent--Wanting of company, she pattered after Quinn. Following several heartbeats of decision, she grabbed a beer from the cooler and gathered herself in one of the plastic chairs, nestling the bowl of stew in her lap while she twisted the cap off of her drink. The conversations around the fire draped over her like a blanket; paired with careful sips of her beer and quick bites of her stew, Heron eventually felt the shivering complications in her chest subside. Clarity ─ ironically ─ flowed into her mind as she studied the various faces around the fire. Some of them were relaxed and laid back, others pained and conflicted, and one more unknown and infinitely alluring.
--indent--Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a new day, and perhaps she wouldn't spend it cooped up in the kitchen; her packmates needed more than just food in their bellies. Heron sat and let the warmth of the fire bathe her face, grinning at Delaney's fervent desire to nurture the flames encircled at their feet. "They're over on the table," she said in response to the fighter's desire for marshmallows. "I can grab them."
--indent--Heron stood and made her way back to the array of food and treats, grabbing a reusable plastic bag that held supplies for s'mores and some collapsible metal roasting sticks. When she got back to her seat, she saw that Coraline had joined them, looking particularly despondent. A crease appeared in Heron's brow and for a moment she almost felt the urge to drift her fingers over the she-wolf's russet crown. Something held her back, though: perhaps the caution that came with making the initial step across the boundary of someone she had hardly spoken to. Regardless, before her was an opportunity to release the compassion and tenderness that had risen to her fingertips when Dutch had first approached.
--indent--Heron opened up the bag of marshmallows and took one out, tucking it against the palm of her hand while she used her free fingers to take hold of one of the roasters. After passing the bag over to Delaney, she skewered the pillowy morsel and set it over the flame. Unknown as to how Coraline like her 'mallows (if she liked them at all), Heron took the safe route and crisped it to a uniform golden-brown color, then slid the marshmallow off the skewer with a delicate hand and placed it on a napkin from her pocket. She drew a soft whistle across her lips to let Coraline know to expect Heron's reach as she leaned down to place the toasted sweet beside her muzzle.
--indent--Leaning back into her chair, Heron buried her face in the collar of her sweatshirt and blinked lazily at the geyser of sparks that whirled up into the night sky. It didn't matter whether or not Cora actually ate the marshmallow ─ though Heron did hope for it ─, what mattered was her knowing she wasn't, nor did she have to be, alone in whatever affliction that toiled in her heart. A problem solver? Not usually. Heron liked to think of herself as the heavy blanket enveloped over one's shoulders, the silken fabric of the pillow gathering salted tears, the moon that heard every secret and dark confession and still offered unwavering light; she was the vessel in which those around her could safely place their worries and fears, the shoulders that would lessen another's burden, the hand that would guide them onward when their hopes faltered. The marshmallow was a promise, an offering, the greeting of a crescent smile through brambles and thorn.
--indent--Movement dragged Heron's attention away from the bonfire. Dimidian and Arden emerged from the woods, their expressions a complicated canvas of contrasting tones, of strokes soft and strokes unsteady. She offered them a greeting in the form of bright eyes, but she was unsure as to how present either of them were. When the fighter spoke, her interest piqued and her mind sauntered to all the possibilities that this announcement could bring. News of the murders from the trip to town? Not quite, but not unrelated to the rainy escapade. An interesting look fell across Heron's face as Arden took up the announcement: something maybe like dismay mixed with surprise and topped in joy. She was one of the first to verbalize her approval of the change, her assent punctuated with a bright smile when it was expressed that Dimidian would be their beta. He was a private and mysterious man, yes, but there was no denying that his friendship with Arden would make them a formidable duo in their leadership. Already, Heron was planning a celebration for them tomorrow, short and sweet and...familial.
--indent--She spent the rest of her time at the bonfire plotting and listening to the talk, nibbling on s'mores and finding herself a part of Sao's morning wolf-jog. At some point in the night she melted from her chair and drowsily gathered the leftover stew. By the time she shuffled around the dark kitchen, left a few s'mores out on a plate for Caster, and made it to her room, her eyes were held open by manual willpower. The crawl into bed was heavenly, cool, and soft; her room smelled light and rain-whispered ─ sleep was not hard to come by.


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--indent--For a brief moment, upon her waking, Heron regretted her agreement to the pre-dawn canid run; she was warm, comfortable, and held in divine embrace by her sheets and thick blankets. Yet, the creature dwelling within would not forget her promise, and the huntress knew she needed to shift to let the restless animal stretch its legs before it forcefully clawed its way out of her. She grimaced as she recalled the feeling of her wolf rearing up inside of her when Erika had turned: alien and unnatural. I could have worse company with me, though,, she thought as she swung her legs around and sat up, drawing her fingers through her short hair and digging the crust from her eyes.
--indent--When she had changed into some fresh clothing ─ jeans and a pastel pink turtleneck ─ she opened up her bedroom door and tip-toed down the hall and into the living room she was spat out in. Heron took a moment to stretch and wriggle her bare, lilac-painted toes in the plush rug holding the space together...well, trying to; the area had the look of a room decorated over time, comforting in the mismatch of patterns and style that spoke to a home with a story. Arden's scent lingered in the air, crisscrossed with Yehuda's fresher trace. Heron followed it into the kitchen, choosing a modest breakfast of an orange and a cup of peach yogurt.
--indent--Before she could forget, she pulled a scuffed tin box from atop the refrigerator and opened it up, delicately paging through the yellowed and bent recipe cards stored within. The stale smell of flour and spices wafted up into her nose, as well as some unfamiliar note that she now recognized as the scent of Wolf Mother. With a fond smile, Heron drew out the recipe for the matriarch's famed tres leches cake and began scrounging through the kitchen to make sure she had the ingredients she needed. What they didn't have she jotted down on the notepad fixed to the fridge via magnet, and after a moment of thought she scribbled down some additional items of need. She would have to send someone else to town for her items, not knowing how long she would be out with Sao and Yehuda.
--indent--Grating and the sound of groaning wood caught her attention from the stairway. Heron pittered over to find Dimidian fixing the banister ─ yet again ─ and offered him a shy smile. "Morning, beta," she chirped, holding out her list to him. "I promised to join some others on an early run; do you think you could find someone who's going into town and have them pick up these things? I'll pay back later."
--indent--His eyes were distant and stormy, making Heron fear she might have caught him at a bad time. To her relief, he didn't grumble at her for interrupting his thoughts, merely taking the slip of notepaper with a gentle hand and tucking it into his pocket. "I'll see to it," he replied, turning back to his work. Heron murmured her thanks and took her leave, suspecting he had no more want of company or interruption. She followed Yehuda's trail instead, slipping outside to join him out on the porch. Heron swore she'd heard him singing, but the melody was turned inwards the moment she opened the door.
--indent--"Good morning, you. You'll be pleased to know that those s'mores were, in fact, for you, so I am not coming out here to twist your ear for eating them." Heron crossed her ankles and lowered herself down behind the younger boy, resting her chin on his shoulder as she blinked out into the forest. It had a foreboding look to it, but only to her human side; her wolf ached to be released into the dew-laden abyss of fern and pines.

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[tealfeather]

delaney shivers — { various. erika, audrey. }
⟶ he/him. twenty-four. fighter.
⟶ bi. 5'9. scar across ear.

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Once enough people were around the fire that it had the ambiance of a gathering, the true potential for a party, Delaney hopped to his feet and beelined inside. It was decidedly time for s'mores and alcohol. He knew he had the ingredients for both stashed somewhere, and he did, which meant he reappeared with it all balanced precariously in his arms. Before he could drop it, he carefully set down everything but his drink on the picnic table Heron had the stew on.

He smiled crookedly and tipped an imaginary hat at her, and then made sure to eat at least some of the stew – which was delicious – before taking a sip of his drink.

It went kind of downhill from there. He remembered carefully typing out a reply to Sky, something about a childhood friend's wedding, since they'd moved on from Delaney trying to get a rise out of Sky and back to their usual updates. He listened raptly to Arden and Dimidian's announcement, and made a mental note to speak to them both personally...later. It wasn't much of a surprise, and he liked them both, and thought they fit their roles well, even if they hadn't settled into them yet. And anyone who knew Arden knew she would choose Dimidian as a beta. That was never a question for Delaney, but he was happy for them.

At some point, he gave Caster a s'more, but when? Maybe when the fire was down to embers. Maybe after he had drank two more highly alcoholic drinks, because back home they mix strong, and pressed just a tiny bit of his weight onto Quinn and Heron. Just needed a little crutch. Drinking was like unlocking all the sleepiness he somehow avoided normally, and it hit all at once, but Delaney never wanted to go to sleep, even when he was passing out on his feet.

At some point, maybe when the fire was more of a fire, Erika and that new wolf that smelled like Dimidian left, and Delaney noticed, but he didn't bother to mention it, just watched the direction they went in and happily went back to burning marshmallows.

After the fire went to embers and he'd made his last delicious, perfect s'more, someone put it out and Delaney didn't know how he got there, but –

He woke as the early morning sun poured through the window and onto his face. It wasn't a particularly slow awakening; one moment he was blissfully unaware of the world, and the next he was overwhelmingly conscious. As per usual. The sun, too, was a common accompaniment, but a welcome one, especially as the weather inched closer and closer to winter.

With a groan, Delaney pulled his arm away from his face and rolled out of bed and onto his feet. He could only put off getting up for so long. With that thought in mind, he pulled on some clothes, realizing as he did that he smelled more like Heron and Quinn than himself, which meant he had definitely pressed up against them more than he'd meant to, but he'd clear it up with them later. For now, he ventured out into the main rooms to find something to do. No one else was awake yet, but it looked like Arden had been out earlier. Her warmth echoed through the space, bright and fresh. It registered in his mind before he even thought about it, and he chose not to dwell on that too much. It was a useful skill, and he was going to let it flow naturally, like it was meant to.

Letting the scents of the wolves around him settle his thoughts, he peeked into the fridge. Nothing too enticing as leftovers for breakfast, so cereal it was. Perhaps he could snag Heron's breakfast as a lunch, if he was around and hadn't found some other meal. He knew it always made her smile when they ate her food, and besides, it was delicious.

He leaned against the counter while he ate, left his bowl rinsed in the sink, and then purposefully made his way out the door, still in the early moments of the morning. A run would be nice, and just the thing to wear off the edge of grogginess that still clung to him like a wet coat. It always did after a night of drinking, but once he was fully awake, the refreshed energy was perfectly worth it, and left his mind feeling clear and sharp. Sky, who had terrible hangovers, did not enjoy Delaney's (loud) company in the mornings after a party, so it was now a habit to go outside, and not one he was keen on breaking, especially since he had a new way to really shock his senses into wakefulness.

He shook his hands out and breathed in the crisp morning air. The smell of nature was always the easiest way to lean into the change, and the quiet warmth of the ember leaves was always one of his favourites. In what felt like no time at all, he was shaking out his black coat, much warmer and much clearer-minded than before.

It also helped to settle down the pain of suddenly changing shape, and he wasn't about to think about his actions as a wolf. Wolves didn't think – they just acted. Even ones with human minds somewhere. It felt so freeing.

Which was why Delaney immediately pounced on the first leaf he saw past the porch, delighting in the crunch it made. No one had raked them into a pile yet, because there were still many more to fall, but that made his little hunting game even more fun.

When he tired of that, his tongue lolling in the mimicry of the childish smile he'd be wearing were he a different shape, he lifted his nose.

The most interesting scent, which lit up some recognition in his mind, was leading away from the cabin. He let out a little whine in indecision, because he enjoyed company, but – he might find it along the way, and really, that made the decision for him.

As he went, he continued his game of stomping on the crunchiest looking leaves, letting out little breaths of delight with each one. Eventually he reached the river, and he carefully followed the trail to the bridge he knew was there, and then...oh. Well, this would require things that a canine did not have, but first –

Delaney made his way over to Erika and Audrey, careful to keep his body language friendly, with his tail down and wagging just a little. A gentle hello any wolf would recognize. A hello that could lead anywhere, and it would be okay no matter where it led. He pressed his nose into Erika's hand in greeting and in reassurance, and then took a step back to find the shape he needed, which took a moment.

Coffee, and careful hands, and the crush of a hug that was like coming home, and with a hiss of pain at the rearrangement, Delaney was on two feet again. He cleared his throat, but it still came out a little raspy. "Can I help?"

He offered his arm to the girl whose name he didn't know, no judgement, no questions about the smoke he could smell in the air...just an offering. Perhaps of a bit more than an arm to lean on.


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[kopfkino]

𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

( ♛ ) ── ❝ 𝘋𝘜𝘛𝘊𝘏 𝘚𝘏𝘌𝘗𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘋 ❞

( 26 years old ) ─ ( male ) ─ ( omega ) ─ ( town ) ─ ( survivin' - thrivin'? ) ─ ( arden, dimidian, alex (mentioned) )

indentation The announcement of the night prior hadn't come as a surprise to Dutch, given that he'd been the first to find the news that Jun had departed from the pack. Still, there'd been a sense of trepidation when Arden announced that Dimidian was to be her beta. That addition also didn't stir any feelings of surprise in Dutch - from the moment he'd cautiously entered the pack, he'd seen how close-knit the two were. Regardless of Arden's opinions and treatment of Dutch, he was glad that she at least had someone always there to support her in whatever way that she needed. Dimidian had always been someone that Dutch wanted to be friends with and he'd deliberated on whether the confrontation prior to the bonfire would disrupt that. He'd elected to sleep on it instead of fussing over it at the bonfire, and gone about befriending Kody while still in wolf form.

indentation For the first night in probably years, Dutch managed to sleep the whole night through, without any troubling flashes of nightmare. He woke prematurely, however. 4:36am greeted him when he blearily peered at his phone and he groaned, shoving the device under the pillow next to his. He shifted over to lay on his belly, allowing one hand to dangle down over the edge of his bed, fingers momentarily freezing as they came into contact with something soft and warm. He was alert in a second, but relaxed when he recalled that Kody had followed him back to his room. The dog had merely stared up at him when Dutch tried coaxing him up onto the bed and he'd eventually respected the dog's apparent reluctance. He'd dumped a blanket onto the floor and Kody promptly curled up with a long-suffering sigh. Dutch decided that this meant that his plan to befriend the dog was going well.

indentation Dutch entangled his fingers in Kody's fur, absently scritching his fingers over the dog's spine until he dozed back off, face half-obscured in his pillow. He was up another hour later, this time far more awake and recognizing that he wouldn't be able to doze back off. It sounded like someone else was moving around in the house. His brain was a little too muddled to identify the footsteps - for he'd grown accustomed to identifying everyone by sound - but he could hear movement downstairs nonetheless. "Guess we'll go down and rustle up some grub for you after I shower, huh?" His murmur was meant for the dog currently snoring in a mound of fur and blanket next to his bed.

indentation Dutch rolled over and shambled out of bed, poking through his still-packed bag until he'd found clean clothes that would work for the day. Another pair of dark jeans and a black shirt with yet another band logo imprinted on the front. He had a style that he enjoyed and he stuck with it. He crept down the hall, clothing bundle tucked between one arm and his chest, watching as Kody headed for the stairs with an urgent click-click of his nails against the hardwood floors. Dutch sealed himself into a bathroom, setting a brutally hot shower that curled steam and washed away the stale-bonfire scent that still clung to Dutch's hair.

indentation By the time he exited the shower, all pine and amberwood and warmth, his mind was much less cloudy. Whatever vestige of pain had been trying to worm through his head had given up at the first hints of warmth, but a nagging ache above his eyes begged for relief in a way only caffeine could suffice. He'd head into town for his daily coffee, among other errands and occasional desires he saw fit to. It didn't hurt to have eyes in town, especially with recent events and the contract he'd signed and left at the news office just the day before.

indentation Dutch dropped off his towel and old clothing in his room and grabbed his leather jacket, shrugging it on and breathing in the warm smoke-sap scent that had burrowed in deep after last night. While he'd spent most of his time in wolf form, one could not sit near a bonfire for any period of time without its sweet scent settling in. He mulled over the brief affection from Sao and the fact that no harm had come from it as he pulled his shoes on and headed downstairs. Habit had him reaching for a bannister that still hadn't been repaired on the stairs, fingers grasping blindly in the dark. He was off-balance on his next step, thumping lightly against the wall as he struggled to right himself. There had been pictures on the stairs there the day before, but Erika's outburst had removed those obstacles, ensuring that no one would be woken to picture frames crashing down in the pre-dawn hours. He made it downstairs without further incident and headed directly for the kitchen to root around for something to offer to Kody. He could pick up dog food while he was in town, surely.

indentation His searching was in vain and he wound up pouring a bowl of cornflakes and setting it in a corner. "Don't give me that look. I'll get something better, I promise." He smiled and leaned down to pat Kody on the head, hand running over the dog's neck to scratch under the shoddy collar, making a mental note to look into replacing it with something that fit a little better. He returned to the kitchen, prizing a granola bar from the cabinet and shoving it into his pocket with his truck keys. He hadn't planned to drive to town, but the knowledge that someone needed to buy dog food and that he'd otherwise be making a long hike back with a 40lb bag of dog food was highly unappealing.

indentation Dutch was studious in his efforts to keep out of Arden and Dimidian's way, doing his best impression of a ghost drifting into and out of the kitchen to accomplish the two tasks he'd set out to do. Kody was fed and he had a granola bar, and he even offered a small finger crook in greeting to Heron in passing as she shambled into the kitchen. There was a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he offered the greeting - a marked difference compared to the night before in all his fearful sulking, and then he was out the door, granola bar gripped between his teeth while he pried his keys from his pocket and grabbed the one that would unlock the door.

indentation There was a brief pause as he examined the newest dent in the side of his truck - one that had shown up sometime while he was at the coffeeshop. He was certain of the culprit, but decided that ultimately, if that had kept her from exploding into fur in town in the same way Alex almost did, it was for the best. His train of thought brought his motions to a halt, hand on the ignition in preparation to crank it as he recalled the streak of drying blood at Alex's nose and the guilt on her face. He heaved a sigh, choosing instead to focus on the former again. She was one of several pack members that seemed reluctant to shift and it confused Dutch. The pain of shifting was a small price to pay for the freedom it opened up, in Dutch's eyes. Surely Alex just hadn't realized that yet. He'd do his best to extend an olive branch and show her why being a wolf was not only okay but wonderful.

indentation The drive into town was just as uneventful as the day before - the vibrancy of fall hadn't yet been realized for the day, colors brightening as the sun gradually awoke. Dutch parked his truck near the edge of the woods. It would be nice to walk through town. The morning was crisp - not the biting chill of the day before - but promising a ghost of warmth as the sun rose. This was the ideal type of fall day in his opinion, the promise of warmth tampered by cool breezes and the musty-sweet scent of drying leaves that rolled through town by way of the towering, tree-covered foothills that surrounded the town.

indentation By the time that Dutch had entered the lazy activity of Small Town, USA in the morning, the sun was kissing the buildings with watery golden light and businesses were opening. Dutch had a destination in mind even before his daily visit to Tilly's Café, ducking into the barbershop to inquire about walk-ins. He'd neglected his hair long enough - it was growing reluctant to be styled, sticking up with increasingly alarming heights when he inevitably dragged an anxious hand through his hair. So it was that he found himself beneath the sleek black cape while Ernest went over the sides of his head with a guard, taming it back. "Most off the sides, a little off the top. I know Doris says it every time you come in, but you do have nice hair. Your girl like it this way?"

indentation Dutch let out a quiet laugh at the inquiry and especially at Ernest's response when he stated that he wasn't dating anyone. "A lad like you? They're missing out then!" He was unfailingly likable to the townies - older folks especially were fond of him and always seemed hellbent on putting more effort into Dutch's love life than he was. It just wasn't a priority when he could barely force his way through genuine interactions at the pack house. I want to get better though.

indentation Dutch surveyed Ernest's careful administrations in the mirror once the cape had been removed, running a hand along the light fade and then the shape that Ernest had made on top with pomade. "You always outdo yourself, mate. Thank you so much!" He produced his wallet from his jacket, hanging on a coat rack in the corner and slipped a couple bills over before slipping outside, dragging the bomber jacket back up over his shoulders against the morning chill that rushed up to greet him. It was coffee time now.

indentation He felt an inexplicable peace as he meandered through town. Someone a street over was playing guitar outside, voice carrying on the wind and echoing down an alley in a peculiar way. He kept walking though, sights set on the distant building that made up Tilly's Café. The bell chimed its merry call as he entered and he waved a hand to Matilda as she looked up. Something rueful and sheepish crossed Matilda's face as she set down a tray of muffins and came out from behind the counter, making a beeline for Dutch.

indentation "I'm sorry to do this to you, kiddo, but I'm banning you and your friends from the coffeeshop for a few days. Come back same time next week and I'll have a special coffee with your name on it, okay?" Matilda offered a sympathetic smile that dampened the wrinkle of concern between her eyebrows, reaching up to squeeze Dutch's shoulder before she stepped back a couple feet. Dutch's smile faltered and his shoulders dropped a little as he took a step back as well, hand reaching for the door.

indentation "Ahh, I see. I'm sorry again about yesterday, Matilda. I wouldn't have brought them in had I known they'd stir up trouble." Dutch's voice dripped with sincerity and while Matilda nodded again, a clear 'I know but this is how it is' crossing her face as she gestured toward the door. As Dutch stepped outside, Matilda called out after him, "I'm sorry, baby. It's just to appease my customers." He waved a hand to acknowledge that he'd heard her and stepped back into the brightening sunshine with a weary sigh. No coffee this morning or for the next week. Again with getting punished for things I wasn't responsible for, huh?

indentation As he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, deliberating on what else he could do in town sans coffee, the sound of guitar filtering around the corner piqued his attention again. He followed the sound up until he passed the grocery store and an important errand made itself urgently known. Right, dog food. He slipped inside quickly, glancing around until he'd located the pet aisle. It was small and sparse, but Dutch found a dog collar that he felt would be suitable for the hulking black creature at home, running his fingers over the brown leather with satisfaction. There wasn't much choice in dog foods, but he could always change the food once he'd done more research. He'd never owned a dog, but surely any of the foods would be fine until he could hit up Google? He hefted a large bag of dog food over one shoulder and marched over to the counter to make his purchase.

indentation It was a fair hike back to the truck, depositing the large bag of dog food into the truck bed along with the collar, but Dutch was satisfied with what he'd accomplished. Still, he wanted to spend a bit more time in town, where he felt more comfortable, before he returned to the pack house, where he second-guessed every little gesture and word out of his mouth. I'll get better about that. The guitar's strum rang down the street again on a fell wind and Dutch altered course to find the town's morning entertainment, though he hesitated when he recognized that it was Alex. Part of him wanted to turn around and not take any more potential stressors on and enjoy this rare, fine day, and the stronger, more moral part reminded him of his goal to help her love the wolf inside. He walked up quietly, hands in his pocket and body language more relaxed than it had been in some time. He nestled himself up against a street lamp, leaning his weight against it while he listened.

[Zyn]

🍂 Sασɾιʂҽ Qυιɳɳҽʅʅყ 🍂
Bitten Werewolf || Hunter || Female || Twenty-Five || Demisexual-Demiromantic

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🍂 Location: The Woods
🍂 Tags: Winnie, Caster, Heron
🍂 Mood: Startled, Curious
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As Dutch relaxed under her touch so did Sao, the tension slowly easing away and for a moment she was able to relax into her chair. For a second everything that had plaguing her mind slowly drifted away, leaving her to focus on the things around her. The gentle crackling of the fire in front of her, the fur under her fingers and the comfortable conversations going on. Her moment of quiet was broken when the form under her fingers jerked away, startled she jumped slightly in her chair. Her sightless eyes widened as her gaze swung in the direction of the disturbance. A scent bathed her tongue and she let out a silent breath, once again relaxing. Coraline was standing in front of her, from the familiar scent they had shifted into a wolf. The soft whine from the back of of a wolf's throat caught her attention. Though from the way it was cut off that told her that they hadn't meant for it to happen so her sightless gaze stayed fixed ahead as though she hadn't heard it. A nose bumping her hand told her that Dutch was back next to her wheelchair and she dropped her hand to thread her fingers through his fur once more. Cora had settled on her other side, quiet as ever. She couldn't get a good read on their body language to know what they were thinking about. Unable or perhaps unwilling to try and figure out the mood of the two wolves next to her she let her mind drift away. To nowhere in particular, journey back in time wasn't something she was inclined to do. Instead she just let her mind go blank, akin to just going into auto pilot.

Only when Dutch moved under her fingers did she get jolted back into the present, her mind whirling back from the empty space she had been occupying. Her hand stilled as a nose bumped against her, her mind worked on overdrive as she tried to figure out the message he was sending her. Despite her mind still trying to catch up to the message she cast her gaze in Dutch's direction to offer the omega a warm smile before the wolf looped away. It was only when Dutch was approaching the dog that had accompanied Erika back to the cabin that it clicked. He had been saying goodbye, maybe a thank you too? She was less certain on the former but refused to allow herself to dwell on that thought. She had spent enough time today spiraling in dark thoughts. A new scent in the air pulled her attention towards the edge of the woods as Mid and Arden made their way towards the bonfire. She stiffened slightly as Arden delivered the news that she knew would happen sooner rather than later. As Arden asked for their approval confusion clouded her mind. She didn't know there was an option for the pack to veto an alpha. In her very limited experience they were appointed. The idea of being able to approve or disapprove hadn't even occurred to her and now that she was face with the choice she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react. There was nobody else she wanted to lead the pack but the words to use eluded her. Instead she stuck with the age old thumbs up combined with an approving grin. As the others voiced their approval she settled into her chair. When Cora opted to slip back inside the cabin she found herself alone and quietly drifted over to Caster, ushering Heron over as well and concocted a plan to go out in the morning. Not long after Arden retreated back to the cabin she followed, disappearing into her room for the night. Sleep didn't come easily to the distracted wolf.

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Sao's eyes flickered open to the same oppressive darkness as always. Laying in bed she found her limbs were strangely heavy. Shifting slightly she let her fingers trail over the warm blanket that was tucked around her slim frame, it was soft and warm. Familiar and yet unfamiliar, it wasn't the heavy blanket from home. This was the blanket she had bought to keep her warm during the nights that she stayed at the cabin. For a moment she had been able to pretend like last night hadn't happened, that when she went downstairs the pack would be the same. But it wasn't the same, it would never be the same. Changes weren't always a bad thing but she had learned to be wary of it. Many of the changes that had been forced upon her had lead to disaster or pain. Feeling the panic slowly bubbling to the surface she shoved those thoughts aside. Arden would make for an excellent alpha and Mid would be a steady beta for the pack to fall back on. With that final thought Sao shifted into sitting position. Reaching out blindly she waved her hand in front of her slowly as she felt for her wheelchair. As her fingers made contact she let out a small huff of approval and dragged it closer. When it was within reach she heaved herself from the bed and into the wheelchair. Once situated enough to move around she rolled herself over to the dressed, opening a drawer to feel for her clothes. As her finger tips came in contact with each piece of clothing she would pull it out and stick it on. In the end she decided to keep the sweater she had worn last night. It still held the scent of the bonfire, a smoky scent that oddly made her feel relaxed. For her pants she had tugged on some ripped white jeans and the same Ugg's from last night. Closing the drawer she rolled back to the bed and snagged the blanket strewn across the twin bed and lay it across her lap, tucking the edges under her legs. It was only as she was about to roll out the door that she realized it was still early. She paused by the door and pulled her phone out of her pocket, tapping a few buttons before a soft voice told her it was only 4:34am.

Uncertain on if she should go out or if she should stay inside her room until more of the pack stirred Sao found herself sitting by the door. The crippling indecision had her rooted in spot, unable to move forward or backwards. It was only when the sounds of the pack rising in the cabin around her was she able to rouse from her frozen position. Slowly she rolled as quietly to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. Listening intently she drew in a long breath to try and catch the scents of those closest to her. That last thing she wanted to do was to accidently smack someone in the face with her door. When she had deemed that the hallway was safe she ventured out, still moving slowly in a vain attempt to keep her wheels from being too loud. The worse thing about having a cheaper all terrain wheelchair was how loud they could be. Without the pack all awake to cause ruckus and noise it felt even louder than normal. After what felt like a lifetime of creeping forward she found herself slipping into the kitchen, Quinn was in the living room. He had evidently crashed on the couch instead of using the second twin bed in the room they shared. He rarely used that bed, in fact Sao was fairly sure that Quinn had used that bed all of once and that had been after a particularly rough and tumble full moon. For a moment her sightless gaze flickered towards the kitchen, from the sounds of Quinn's breathing he was awake and probably had been for a while. He was pretending to be either asleep or dead, not that it was all that convincing. She didn't need to use their twin connection to know that he was faking it. With a tiny shake of her head she rolled into the kitchen, opening the fridge in search of something to eat. Her stomach had been protesting all night, she had failed to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner and her body was letting her know how dumb that was. Shifting through the fridge she let out tiny huffs of frustration as she struggled to find the items she was searching for. It was like a game of hide and seek but the seeker was blind.

With each item found that was not in fact the item she wanted her frown slowly grew until she was full on pouting. It was at this point that she gave up on finding the left overs from the other day. All the containers felt far too similar to one another to tell precisely what was inside each one. The idea of opening each and everyone to sniff and see if it was what she was searching for was far too frustrating. So instead she was settling for a simple bowl of cereal. Not the most nutritious thing but it was something that she knew approximately where it was at. So she went hunting for the milk and managed to grab it on first try. Rolling backwards she ran into another obstacle, reaching the bowls was a lot harder than she remembered. After much straining she managed to grab a bowl and the cereal. Now victorious she poured the cereal and milk into the bowl and stuck the milk back in the fridge. On her way back to her bowl she grabbed a spoon. Picking up the bowl she dug into the meal. It wasn't a big meal since she didn't want to overdue it and make herself sick, it didn't matter how much her stomach protested it would have to do. Despite holding herself back she quickly scarfed down the cereal with the intensity of someone who hadn't eaten in several days. If she didn't know better she would have said this was the best meal she had ever said. She did know better and knew it was just the hunger skewing her judgment. Still it didn't stop the disappointment that rumbled in her stomach as she circled back to the sink and diligently cleaned her dishes. Methodically scrubbing the bowl and the spoon until each one was squeaky clean. It was calm enough that she could almost ignore her stomach that was kicking up a fuss about the lack of nutrients and size of the meal she had just offered it. Thankfully the protests were quiet as she set up the dishes to dry by the sink.

Rolling away from the sink she paused for a moment before exiting the kitchen, trying to get a good grasp of where everyone was in the cabin. There were several faint scents of pack members who had walked this way at some point in the morning, Dutch, Mid, Delaney, Caster and Heron. From the smell it seemed like only Caster and Heron had stuck around near the cabin. Both Delaney and Dutch faded further away from the others implying they had gone somewhere. If she concentrated on Mid's scent it gave her the impression he was still on the property but not as close by as Caster and Heron. Mingled with the other scents was Arden who must have walked to the front door and then had headed back to Cora's room. She remembered hearing a conversation coming from Arden's room at some point in the wee hours of the morning. She had done her best to block out the words, some had managed to get through but nothing that made sense without context. Turning towards the door she rolled towards the entrance, pausing a moment to open the door and slip out. She could smell Heron and Caster almost as soon as the door opened and she angled her body in their direction. Rolling towards them slowly she found her hesitant to join them. It had been her idea to go for a morning jog as wolves but not that she was approaching them it felt like she was interrupting something. A bonding moment between packmates or something. She still found herself drawing closer, craving the closeness that was exuding from the duo. It was the kind of closeness she had always wanted with someone other than Quinn. Having a twin was a blessing, they hadn't spent much time apart. Drawing closer still she came to a stop Heron, jealously tugging on her heart, they could sit so close because they had the freedom to move around. Forcing herself to push those feelings down she turned her sightless gaze away from the two. "It's a good morning for a run. Lets wait a bit though, I heard Arden was asking Cora to go into town with her. Probably best to wait for them to leave before we head out, they might worry" she murmured to them in a faint whisper.

As they waited for the alpha to gather up Cora Sao settled into a comfortable silence, offering quiet hums when addressed. Otherwise she kept her sightless gaze trained on the woods ahead, waiting and listening. It wasn't long before the door opened and Arden and Cora making their way away from the cabin. She made no move though, waiting until their retreating footsteps could no longer be heard. Even then she waited a couple moments longer, giving them plenty of time to head out and be far enough away to not know what was happening back at the cabin. The last thing she wanted was for them to start to pick up on their plan and decide that it wasn't a good time. Sao needed this run more than anything, needed to feel the freedom that she could only obtain as a wolf. When she was finally satisfied with how far away she assumed that they had gotten she turned to aim her gaze at the duo next to her. "Ready when you are" she commented with a bright grin. The wolf deep inside her mind strained to get free but she held back, waiting for the others to shift first. The shifts were like sparks against her skin, fueling the howl that was growing within her chest. Just when she thought she might burst from holding back she leaned into the wolf. Letting the sharp hunter break through her defenses with cracking bones and pain that only served to build her excitement. Folding in half she toppled forward towards the ground, her hind legs lashing out and knocking the wheelchair away as her forelegs hit the ground, saving her from smashing face first into the ground. Giddy with the thrill of shifting she jolted forward a few steps, a spring to her steps. Without casting another glance back she hurried forwards, pushing herself to go as fast she could. A fast jog away from the cabin, leaving behind a toppled wheelchair with a blanket haphazardly strewn across the porch.

Rushing through the woods she skirted around trees and leaped over logs with the giddiness of a young wolf. Several times she took a nose dive into the earth when her paw caught on an offending twig that had not been there the last time she had been on jog. Each time she sprang to her paws with a bright wolfie grin as though proclaiming she was fine and all was fine. With each leap the shakiness to her steps seemed to fade away and a confidence started to bloom within her. It was tough to spend so much time confined to wheelchair, only doing things that her chair could allow her. Something she didn't take for grated for it was far better to be able to move around period than to be stuck in one place. However even she felt trapped and limited by it no matter how much she tried to tell herself that she was blessed to be able to afford such a wheelchair. It just meant when she did get a chance to rely on her wolf for she was able to move and do more things like a regular wolf could. With that added movement came and added confidence and assurance. With her paws thrumming against the earth she could have run forever without stopping. She would have kept going to if a strange scent hadn't hit her nose after they had ventured far into the forest and she had accidently put some distance between herself, Caster and Heron. As the scent hit her nose fear rippled through her and she shot into the air. Her tail bushed and the fur along her spine spiked, her ears flattened against the back of her head as she landed back on the ground. Coiling herself into what could have been a pouncing position she drew her lips back away from her sharp fangs. Fear caused her heart to race at a mile a minute, hammering in her chest. That is until the scent broke through her fear and she identified it. It smelled a bit like her, like the pack, like a lupine.

Curiosity chased the fear from her mind and her muscles relaxed. The fur along her spine flattened as her ears flicked forward and she drew herself towards. Her belly fur brushed the ground as she cautiously crept towards the scent that was dancing in the wind. All sense of fear that she should have felt was gone, replaced with only interest. She hadn't ever come across a werewolf before, at least not one that she hadn't been expecting to meet. They had always come by in a more formal way and so she didn't know the proper way to approach another wolf. Though it was highly likely that even if she had come across another wolf that she still wouldn't know. There were certain subtle gestures as a wolf that she just couldn't replicate since she couldn't see the actions for herself. Right now however she wasn't thinking about the proper way to approach another werewolf, no she was thinking about how exciting it was to meet another one. Slinking forward she came to a pause next to a bush as the scent grew stronger. Keeping as still as possible she drew in a quiet breath, letting the wolfs scent settle on her scent glands. From what she could gather the wolf was not too far away, close enough to see her if she decided to show herself. However they were also far enough away so that if things went sideways she could always turn and make a swift get away. She had enough experience being around aggressive werewolves to know to keep a safe distance from one she didn't trust yet. Drawing herself forward and past the bush she drew herself up to her full height, not as impressive as she liked to think, and made her best attempt to fake meeting the other wolves gaze. As foolish as she was to approach another werewolf, even at a safe distance, she didn't want them to think that she was weak or an easy target. Letting her tail swing back and forth behind her, she had heard Dutch do this when he approached Erika's dog, she offered them a wolfy grin. Refraining from taking another step forward she pushed the feeling of curiosity and excitement towards the wolf. A bit forceful for a first meeting but her overwhelming excitement clouded her judgment. 'Who?' came as more of an emotion than an actual word.

[Kaliyana]

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𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙇𝙄𝙉 𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙉 --- "🇮​ 🇨​🇦​🇳​'🇹​ 🇹​🇪​🇱​🇱​ 🇮​🇫​ 🇮​'🇲​ 🇩​🇪​🇦​🇱​🇮​🇳​🇬​ 🇼​🇪​🇱​🇱​ 🇼​🇮​🇹​🇭​ 🇱​🇮​🇫​🇪​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​🇸​🇪​ 🇩​🇦​🇾​🇸​ 🇴​🇷​ 🇮​🇫​ 🇮​ 🇯​🇺​🇸​🇹​ 🇩​🇴​🇳​'🇹​ 🇬​🇮​🇻​🇪​ 🇦​ 🇩​🇦​🇲​🇳​ 🇦​🇳​🇾​🇲​🇴​🇷​🇪​"
27 years old | Male | Hunter | Single
𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽; Cabin kitchen [mentions bonfire] 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂: Open 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Arden, Dimidian 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 890

indent Warm sunlight filtered in through the semi-closed curtains, pouring over the bed and the single occupant within it. The small beam of light managed to land directly on his face, making the backs of his eyelids look a sudden orange color. Devlin groaned quietly, shifting to stuff his head beneath the pillow to hide from the light. He had been perfectly content to pretend that he was still asleep. He had woken earlier, probably several hours earlier if his growling stomach was any indication, but had not wanted to move from his bed just yet. He had woken in a bad mood, which was only worsened by the suns blatant disregard for his wish to be a lazy lump.

indent After a couple more minutes of muttered cursing, followed by a struggle with the comforter that had wound its way around his legs while he slept and was hell bent on tripping him, Dev finally emerged from his bed. He stomped his way to his closet and aggressively pulled on the first pair of pants and t-shirt he could find. He ended up with a pair of blue jeans that had seen better days, were faded and ripped, but sadly not in a way you'd pay $75 to obtain and a grey t-shirt. He spared a quick glance at the single mirror in the room, combing his fingers through his hair enough to only just remove the bedhead look. He regarded the expression on his face in the mirror, his blue eyes narrowed and cold as they stared back at his reflection. Coffee. He needed coffee.

indent As he made his way down stairs, trying his best not to stomp like a child, he thought about the bonfire from the night before. He had been shocked to learn that Jun had to leave the pack. While he hadn't grown particularly close to the previous Alpha during his time here, he had looked forward to the opportunity to do so. With that opportunity now gone, replaced by an Alpha to which he had a hard time even speaking to, he wondered if this was something for the better for him. He had never interacted with a pack that had a female Alpha, not because he didn't think that a woman was strong enough to lead them but because he just didn't know how. While he did a very good job, or at least hoped he did a very good job, of hiding the amount of nervousness that sprung to life in his stomach whenever he spoke to Arden he couldn't deny that it was there. And it was hard to lie about your mood in a room full of werewolves who could both smell your fear and hear your heartbeat.

indent He entered the kitchen, momentarily surprised to find it empty for the time being. He smiled slightly to himself as he went to the coffee maker, grateful that there wasn't someone in here he could potentially upset with his sour mood. He never really was a morning person, and while most of the pack knew to wait until he'd had at least one cup of coffee in his system before talking to him, he still felt bad whenever he woke in a bad mood. He went about making a pot of coffee out of habit, continuing to think on the night before. He had been excited to learn that Dimidian would be the new Beta. Not only did he think that his friend and mentor-of-sorts would be a good fit for the role, the look on his face as he stood beside Arden at that fire had been priceless. It hadn't quite been fear that he saw on his friends face then, but it was probably the closest Dev had ever seen on his face.

indent The coffee maker dinged its ready, and he jolted only slightly. How long had he been standing here, just staring at the coffee maker as he got lost in his thoughts? He shook his head quickly, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set about making his coffee. He was a simple man, and while he enjoyed a nice caramel latte (or the occasional pumpkin spice, should he feel like entertaining the "basic white girl" within) as much as the next person, he preferred his coffee with just cream and sugar.

indent With his coffee made, he didn't even bother to sit down as he took the first sip. A wistful sigh escaped his lips as that first drop of caffeine hit his soul, and he could feel his grumpy mood starting to lift. Coffee could solve anything. With the first, blissful sip out of the way he lifted the cup, took a breath, and downed the whole thing. His mouth and throat burned but he didn't care. The first cup was to wake him up, to chase away any residual tiredness and irritation from his bones. The second cup was to sip. He made himself another cup, and only after that one was made did he settle himself down in a chair and wonder what the day had in store for him. Did he have any plans? He didn't think so, couldn't remember any off the top of his head. "What am I going to do today..." he whispered quietly, voice sounding surprisingly loud in the empty kitchen.

[eleutheromania]

𝐘𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐝𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 "𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛"

he/him | nineteen | hunter | location:woods | mentions: arden, quinn, cora | tags: heron, sao, winnie
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his lips closed, the sound from them silenced as he heard footsteps not far from the door. caster laid his head back and looked to see heron coming through. turning his head back upright, he heard more than saw her sit down beside him and mention yesterday's smores. a soft smile pulled at his lips as he moved his arm up and back to allow her to rest in the crook of his body as she rested her head on his shoulder. "well im glad you're not here to wring my ears heron." he said with a soft laugh as he rested his head atop of her's and just enjoyed the silence of the morning as he gazed back out towards the trees.

it didn't take long for him to hear the soft sound of wheels against the wooden floors. putting two and two together, he knew that sao was headed towards the porch now. when she wheeled herself closer, the nineteen-year-old listened to what she had to say. it seemed she wanted to go for a jog in wolf form, which yehuda was perfectly fine with as he gave her a small lift of his chin before he gave her an outstretched arm to grab her hand. he didn't want her to sit here awkwardly and so he included her in the calming silence that the trio seemed to all enjoy. he knew that sao wouldn't want arden and cora to worry over her so he would take it upon himself to make sure she returned safely. he was sure that arden would skin him alive if anything else were to happen, to either of them honestly.

he didn't move from his position, even after arden and cora made their trek away from them. he merely waited for sao to give the go-ahead for them to shift. as he heard her words, the young man released his soft grip on her hand and his hold of heron before standing up on the step. the familiar itching beneath his skin further indicated not only his excitement but the want of the wolf to frolick through the trees. her grin was contagious and he returned it with a matching one of his own. with a deep breath, the wolf surged forward and the human shell receeded.

in the place where he stood now rested a light cream-shaded wolf. he turned his gaze towards sao, head cocked to the side as he watched her shift. when the wolf that now stood where sao was crouched bolted forward, yehuda itched to follow but stopped himself, muscles bunched up in tension at the refusal to follow his instincts. he turned his attention now towards heron, simply waiting to see if she would need help to shift or if she was able to do it herself. he moved towards her from where he had jumped off the stairs and rubbed his muzzle briefly against her leg with a low whine. hazel eyes glanced upwards towards her before he backed up, nearly slipping on the steps as he finally was back on even ground.

yehuda waited and sat down until heron was fully shifted. with a bark, he then let go, letting his nose and instincts surge forward as he went to chase after sao. the steady thud of his paws against the soft ground eased his worries and urged him forward in the chase. he turned his head just enough to glance towards heron and slowed enough to where he could playfully nip at her legs. they were a good minute behind sao but he had yet to hear anything wrong.

ears raised, he listened to the sounds that surrounded him, the birds singing their morning songs to the smells that reached his nose. yehuda huffed, content with the pace he was setting in order to catch up with their third. it was of course find until he caught the foul scent of fear mingled with sao's natural scent. he stumbled forward, his concentration was broken as he nearly face-planted into the ground. the hair rose along his back, ears fully erect as he stiffened, all sense of playfulness gone as his focus was aimed elsewhere. as he moved forward, this time with a purpose, his head low as he took in the scents. the faint traces of a foreign wolf caused caster's hackles to rise and a deep growl vibrated from his throat.

his focus turned to close the distance that sao had put between them, tracking her with ease due to the many years that he had relied solely on these heightened senses. yehuda realized he hadn't said anything to heron about his current issue with sao being alone, further realizing that she was not as familiar to this form as he was. 'there's another wolf here, sao followed it' the tone in which the mental communication was more serious that yehuda honestly ever was. if one little hair on sao's coat was out of place whoever this newcomer was was going to get a rude awakening from an overprotective yehuda. he then returned his attention back to tracking his other companion, wondering why on earth she would have decided to track down a foreign wolf alone.

worry seeped into his emotions as he tried his hardest not to think of the worse, which in yehuda's case was arden skinning him alive and quinn trying to throw him in the bonfire. he had yet to figure out what sort of torture cora would give him if sao came back not as perfect as she left the last they all had seen her. this was definitely not good and he had to force himself not to think of the future events if something did happen, otherwise, he would end up in a full-blown panic attack. that, of course, would not help anyone in this current situation, heron included. speaking of, he wasn't sure how she would react to the sudden change in their simple jog now turned into a find this stranger and hope sao was okay.

he pushed the rest of his thoughts on the back burner as he trekked forward, focused and on a mission. the only positive was that yehuda couldn't smell blood which at least relaxed his tension-filled body a little. his fur was stilled raised on his hackles and his tail curled in a more dominant position as he continued forward. when her scent turned directions, further towards the scent of the stranger, he lifted his head and gave a quick glance around and towards heron before motioning towards the left, hoping she would understand to head in that direction. caster was hoping to circle in on winnie and sao, the element of surprise might work the best if he kept himself downwind and quiet.

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𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎
𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

[phayraoh]

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▐│

𝘋𝘐𝘔𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘈𝘕 𝘈𝘕𝘚𝘠𝘓𝘖𝘙 ─────────❝ je ne t'oublierai pas. je te laisserai dans la lumière déclinante. puis-tu vivre jusqu'à ta mort ❞ xxxx
thirty-three yrs ▪ he/him ▪ beta
location: pack house | tags: heron; arden | mentions: cora, quinn, devlin
xxxxxxxxx

--indent--The house still lay in darkness when Dimidian woke, chilled in only the way that the hours before dawn could achieve. He was slumped over uncomfortably on the living room couch, neck aching in its efforts to battle gravity. The scent of chai wafted into his nostrils, stirring a memory of fixing himself a cup of tea late last night. Ah, yes; everything was coming back to him now, released from the void of blackened sleep. At the fire, he'd sat in a chair that had previously been occupied by Audrey, her trace intertwined with alcohol, cigarette smoke, and Erika. Erika. Of all the people to skitter off with in the night? He'd had half a mind to hunt the two of them down and ensure nothing particularly horrifying was occurring, but Audrey was not one to forgive those who interfered with her choices. Still he'd worried about her, the scene of Erika shifting that morning sending uncomfortable ripples of anxiety emanating from him in rounded crowns of thistle. Only after Arden took her leave from the bonfire had Dimidian risen from his place, walking along the two womens' mingling scent trail until he was able to confirm that they hadn't simply sought out some solitude from the rest of the pack.
--indent--One surrendering sigh later, he ambled back home with a mind full of so many emotions that they'd jumbled together into white noise ─ which brought him to now, where the scattered pinpricks of light from shards of broken thoughts threatened to blind him if he did not shy away from their onslaught. When he reached for his tea mug, the glazed porcelain clung to a delicate shred of warmth, which would've been indicative enough of his nodding off if it weren't for the incredible lack of change in his state of mind.
--indent--Dimidian guided the mug to his lips and drank the lukewarm tea within. His subconscious was attempting to feed him flashes of a certain bourbon-eyed someone, but the heavy thoughts fell on hands tender and weakened from grasping at frayed rope. He sighed and rose in the dark, rolling his sore shoulders and gazing out of the window, where the robins swooped with a herald of the coming dawn streaming from their throats. Quinn was there too, causing a ripple of bashful anxiety to course momentarily through his stomach. The time on the microwave blared 4:07 at him as he shuffled quietly into the kitchen to avoid his packmate; the oven argued 4:09. After depositing his mug in the sink, Dimidian inspected all entries for Audrey's scent but found neither hers nor Erika's. Another sigh.
--indent--His eyes bartered for sleep but the magic of the hour was sinking into his bones: a siren's call beckoning to him, luring him away from the thrall of disquietude. Something ancient and primal made answer, urged him forward to the back porch. The October air wreathed around him, slipped breath tasting of moon-blessed rain and maple leaves over the needing ache of his lungs. Dimidian closed his eyes, leaned into the haunting touch, let the breeze caress his cheeks and whisper promises in clandestine tongue. Frost clung to every surface, glimmering vows of biting winter; his footsteps left dark traces in the sheet of white as he descended the steps into the yard. Somewhere in the forest, a barred owl sounded a baritone melody that reverberated through the trees in lonesome echo. Dimidian parted his lips and returned the same notes with startling accuracy, a smile reaching for the gleam in his eye when the bird offered him an immediate response. Consorting with owls was not something he felt the need to be seen doing, so he refrained from further engaging in the duet; regardless, he was reminded of long nights spent out in the woods in search of solitude from the pack, caterwauling along with the haunting courtships that rang through blackened forest corridors.
--indent--When he rounded the corner and took sight of the shed, his eyes dimmed from the murmur of reality lurking about the structure like a vulture picking at the bones of what had died there. Dimidian's hand twitched, unsure as to whether the rest of him would follow. He stared numbly at the door, unwilling to remove the whiskey and sheet from off the floor, unwilling to abandon what had been burgeoning there the morning prior, what had lifted premature wings to fall plummeting from his tongue. Something brushed against his leg, making him jolt out of his thoughts. Glancing down, he saw Chipmunk blinking up at him with wide, rich amber eyes. "What can I do for you, critter?" he murmured, his finnicky heart placated by the cat's appearance. She let out a raspy meow and placed a paw against his shin, indicating the desire to be held. Dimidian bent over and scooped her up, holding her close to his chest while his fingers massaged behind her ears and scruff. A purr shook her skinny body, deep and low and sinking beneath his own chest. He held her close and nestled his nose in her cheek, her earthy scent calming and familiar. When he realized that this, too, was not something he desired to be seen by human eyes, he pulled back and peeled open his jacket, tucking Chipmunk inside and zipping it up, leaving enough of a gap for her head to poke through.
--indent--Dimidian passed by the shed and instead slipped into the garage, the door grating open with a moaning creak and letting in a pale pre-dawn light that did not completely reach into the depths of the dusty space. He flicked the lights on, closed the door, and released Chipmunk from his clutches to explore the metallic-scented catacomb. Dimidian stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, unsure where to start; neat was not in the garage's vocabulary. Eventually, he decided to start with anything that could be easily disposed of. A quick trip to the adjoining laundry room gave him several trash bags and a pair of gardening gloves that would serve to protect him from anything particularly awful that he was sure lurked in the dark, cobwebbed corners. Sure enough, the moment he lifted up a stack of old magazines, a large spider came scurrying out from behind it, straight into Chipmunk's waiting paws. She pounced with a trill of victory and promptly leaned down to eat it; Dimidian grimaced at the sight of its legs poking out from her muzzle, but scratched her cheek nonetheless in an attempt to offer her his thanks.
--indent--The next couple hours were spent arranging the garage into sections of keep, toss, and undecided, with most of the junk being piled in, on, and around the rusted hunk of car trembling in the corner. Chipmunk had given up her ravage of the resident spider population, choosing instead to rest upon a box Dimidian had uncovered beneath a plastic bin filled with a foreign assortment of mechanic bits and pieces. Only when he could look upon the space and not feel like he was standing in an abandoned storage unit did he decide that this was enough for one day. Arden's bike was moved to a now-exposed concrete wall, and after giving it a quick once-over, Dimidian decided that he could attempt to repair it with the help of a knowledgeable hardware store employee. To town, then.
--indent--Footsteps creaking above his head told him that the rest of the pack was waking, which meant it was probably around six in the morning. Dimidian peeled off his gloves and set them on a shelf between old cans of paint, stepping forward to retrieve his slumbering cat. Though he tried to cradle her again, she fussed and fought against his affections, so instead he opened up the back door and released her to the wild outdoors beyond. His gaze traveled back to where she had been resting ─ to where his subconscious told him something of interest was waiting. For a moment, he did not recognize the name scribbled across the cardboard, but then it clicked: Wolf Mother. He was upon the box in an instant, peeling open the flaps and unleashing a fragrant cloud of the matriarch's scent. Tears welled up in his eyes when they came to rest upon a carefully organized gathering of her belongings. Two things in particular vied most for his attention: a polished wooden jewelry box and a photo album. Dimidian gingerly lifted them out of the box, tucked them under his arms, and stopped for no one in the beeline for his room.
--indent--An exception halted his steps in the upstairs hallway. The exception. Though her exact words were muffled, the cadence of her voice drew out a soft whine from his nostrils. By the lack of a complimenting voice, Dimidian figured she was on the phone with someone ─ Matt, if he had to guess, judging by the undisguised emotions emanating from her tone. A sharpness twisted into his gut, driven by unease and concern. Gritting his teeth, Dimidian forced himself into his room and closed the door, leaning back against it as worry gnawed a dull ache into his chest. Perhaps his hunch was right after all: Matt would be the person Arden would seek solace from if it were Melissa pacing her mind.
--indent--Unbridled emotions swam freely through his body, but he dared not give them a shape to possess. Instead, he sat on his bed and opened up the jewelry box, eyes scanning over the organized collection of adornment. Precious gems and glittering diamonds winked up at him like planets and stars held in a royal blue bed of velvet. He recognized the favorites of Wolf Mother, pieces she'd worn almost daily, others reserved for special occasions. Dimidian drew up one of her necklaces and admired the sparkle of the gem in the approving dawn light streaming in from his open window. He tucked it securely in his pocket, closed the box, and set it on his dresser. A gesture was forming in his mind, a meticulously crafted bouquet in need of a complimenting bloom. He turned to the photo album and peeled back the cover, his throat constricting as long-forgotten memories greeted him in glossy six-by-four. A smile of disbelief, a breath of laughter, the brushing away of burning tears. How dearly he missed the force of nature that was Maria Torres, his beloved matriarch. Unfamiliar faces were present for several pages, but soon he came to those that featured people he saw every day: Delaney, Devlin, Arden. Arden.
--indent--And then his own, surrounded by the many. It was the last birthday of his that Wolf Mother had been alive to celebrate. Here was his own still-short-haired self, seated before an elaborate tres leches cake at the head of the dining room table... and there was Arden with her lips puckered and her head level with the top of the celebratory dessert, leaning in from her place seated at his side, the flames of the candles slanted beneath the invisible breath that sought to extinguish them. The Dimidian in this photo was looking on in complete astonishment, his fingers visible clutching the table on either side of the cake. He slipped his fingers into the plastic pocket and drew out the photo, rising up from his bed as he closed the album with one hand and tucked it under his arm.
--indent--Arden's office was empty when he entered, her scent lingering strongly at the desk he approached. Dimidian placed the closed photo book in the center of her workspace, topping it with the birthday image. Grabbing a notecard and a pen, he wrote out ─ in handwriting elegant and polished ─ a single question: 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓯𝓸𝓻?
--indent--He placed the note atop the photo and left the space, head swimming with memory. The man nearly missed the absence of the banister at the bottom of the stairwell, and in the minutes it took to gather the tools and supplies to fix it, his eyes grew distant and elsewhere. Dimidian and Devlin had arrived together in Pine Knob, wolves far from human. Maria had found Dimidian first, invited him to join her ranks and to bring his friend, too. The first few months were characterized in flight and apprehension, his eyes wild and untrusting, his soul rejecting enclosure and routine. He didn't speak a word to anyone but Devlin, bristling each time someone came within three feet of his space. But then there was Arden, ever patient, never prying, endlessly beautiful and strictly unapproachable by his choice alone. He remembered this clearly: drying his hands on a towel, his skin smelling of dish soap, the kitchen window ajar and the summer crickets competing with the mockingbirds. Arden was pouring herself a cup of tea, her scent overpowering even the sharp fragrance of the herbal brew. Dimidian was staring out of the square of glass, watching as the stars gathered in cold curiosity. For the first time since he stepped foot in that house, his chest ached with the burden of unfathomable depths. "'I am made of incompleteness...the words are not there in words.'" A confession. An offering. An answer to the questions that burned in everyone's eyes the moment he walked into a room. He'd only grown closer to her from there.
--indent--Heron's approach tore him from his memory and he did his best not to scowl, taking the slip of paper she handed him, claiming the request she put forth for the supplies noted down on the folded slip. When she was gone, he sighed and finished securing the banister in place. Erika had not destroyed much of anything, thankfully: just tore the stretch of wood that connected the railing to its fixed place at the bottom of the stairs. Dimidian stood and gave it a shove, pleased when it held his weight. Arden's voiced trickled down from above, drawing him cautiously up the steps when he overheard her mentioning town. He approached silently, his eyes asking the question for him as he drew Heron's list from his pocket and flashed it to her. "Mind if I join you?" he murmured at last, searching her gaze for traces of the pain he'd heard from her phone call. Eventually, he glanced at Coraline's door, wondering what kind of creature existed in there, away from anyone else.

*

[I'm done delete me.]

𝔸𝕃𝔼𝕏𝕀𝔸 ℝ𝕀𝕍𝔼ℝ𝔸 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬:𝟏,𝟔𝟐𝟓 ]

xxx [ 𝟐𝟒 ] [ 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 ] [ 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 ] [ 𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐎 ] [ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: Dutch | 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: - ]
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Listening closely to the voices outside it was more of a muffling sound she couldn't quite get a clear understanding of what they were discussing outside. With the sound of the usual creaking in the house with the wind blowing through its fibres, along with the sound of a tap dripping coming from one of the upstairs bathrooms. She laid there with her eyes wide open unable to sleep with the noises that were occurring throughout the house. Just natural disturbances but this night seemed to be affecting more than most nights. The thought of Dutch and Mid not wanting to speak to her again, her brother's not responding to her and her wolf being out of control. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and tried to settle for the night soon others decided to call it a night.

----

The sun rose on another day, Alex soon got up after failing to sleep the night. With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed and to the bathroom where she tidied herself up. Brushing her teeth and her soft thick red locks, keeping it down for the day it was naturally wavy as she brushed her hair over her shoulders. Looking to herself in the mirror, she cleaned herself up she turned the cold tap on allowing the sink to fill until she found it full enough. Splashing the cold water into her face to wake herself up. It seemed to do the trick after blinking a few times as the droplets caught her eyes she then let the water run away.

Alex looked into her closet for the clothes she wanted to wear. Finding a pair of black skinny jeans along with a white tank top and a red flannel shirt. She quickly placed them on putting the old remains of her clothes in the basket to wash later on as it seemed to be piling up with dirty laundry. Making a mental note that she needed to do some washing.

After grabbing her guitar, she looked around as she flung the guitar over herself the strap against her chest and the guitar settling on her back she began to make her way out of her bedroom grabbing her bucket on the way out. Alex quietly left her room taking a moment to listen whether anyone else had woken, it seemed some of the members of the pack to have a drink or two so they may be partly dead this morning. Not to disturb anyone in their slumber she quietly made her path down the stairs and out the entrance. Successfully leaving the cabin she proceeded to walk towards the town, though she can drive she didn't own a vehicle.

On her way to the town, she took in her surroundings taking in every sight and sound on her path. Making note of what she saw mentally in her mind, the birds were chirping their morning song where they defended their territory and raised their young keeping the predators out. Her shoes it the gravel flicking some up behind her, the sounds of the crunching beneath her feet made the squirrels and birds that we're finding their food flee off as she walked her path.

Soon she arrived in town, shops began to open as she watched as the signal turned from close to their welcoming sign. The smell of the fresh bread along with pastries being made fill her nose with a warm aroma. It reminded her that she hadn't eaten yesterday and the scent of the baked good was not helping. Alex caved in at this point and adventured into a bakery that had opened its doors to customers not too long ago.

The bell announced her entrance but her eyes soon were drawn to the pasties that were on display behind the glass, tall counters the bakery was painted rather a basic colour of white. The scent grew stronger causing her mouth to water a little. Hearing a voice perk up behind the tall counter "would you like anything darling?" A voice of an older lady dressed all in white with her hairnet and cap on. The way she displayed herself as if she opened the bakery did occur to her. She has been here for a year she still struggled with faces, she needed to memories the faces so she could put names to them. Some were imprinted in her mind but others struggled to do so.

Looking over what the lady had to offer her, the sneeze guard was starting to steam up with the freshly baked goods. "May I have a pasty, please?" She asked with a toothy smile. "Of course" the lady replied grabbing her order with her utensils and bagged it up for her she twisted the bag in the corners and put it through the counter to the price it was on sale for. Alex drove into her pocket before hearing the lady speak up as she finished her order "I'm guessing your playing again in town?" The lady spoke up pointing to the guitar that was strapped to her back Alex smile picking up on the word 'again clearly the lady knew of her busking. "Yes, I am" she replied to the lady looking at her name bag then next time put a name to this face. Grabbing her loose change in her pocket then placing the right amount into the hand of the lady named Dorris "your voice is lovely I leave the door open so I can listen to you whilst we work here" she commented which had caught Alex off guard as she never really received any compliments about her singing. The redhead smiled towards her once again "thank you! I don't get many compliments usually I appreciate it..." Alex replied. Taking her order from Dorris she thanked her once before she made her way to the exit catching the lady's final words "have a great day hun" hearing the till tray shut as the change was deposited into the till. Exiting hearing the bell chime as she left the bakery.

Tucking into the meaty filled pastry she made her way to her usual busking spot. She threw the paper bag away in the nearest bin as she managed to wolf down the pasty. She took to the middle of the town where no cars ran through it was a nice area where people walked to get to shops and their work. The area also helped as it allowed her voice to flow down the town grabbing the attention of many more of the community. Placing her metal bucket down a couple of feet from her, she swung her guitar around to her front. There she took the pic from the neck of the guitar and made sure the instrument was tuned. As she looked around she liked to go on the vibe of the town, she watched as many of the humans strolled past her gazing towards her but nothing more.

With the town going through some loss and some confusion as to what may have caused the death of one of the community. She wondered whether to play on their hearts or play something with more of a beat to perhaps lift their spirits. The redhead decided on what strategy she may take.

Settling where she stood, she wished she could bring more equipment with her so she could make her voice more heard but without having a vehicle and having to walk here she couldn't lug the things she needed. Cleaning her throat, she started playing some chords, gently strumming on the strings until she picked a song. She decided to play 'afterglow ' by Ed Sheeran. Soon as she started to catch the humans attention some stopped to listen to her play. Alex tried to picture them not stopping to watch her, she was a little nervous about playing in front of crowds but she found her solution to help her ease her anxiety towards this.

The redhead carried on playing despite the small crowd forming around her some walking by the deposited loose change from their pockets into the bucket in front of her. Once she finished her first song the crowd made small applause towards her. Smiling towards them as their deposited some notes along with coins in their pockets. Alex thanked them before continuing to her next song 'you are the reason by Calum Scott. As another crowd gathered with some familiar faces along with some new ones, she tried not to let them distract her whilst she sung. Through the crowd, she noticed a figure up against the lamp post catching Dutch there. Her eyes wandered away from him again not letting him distract her although he had almost made her stumble in her song. Alex tried to forget he was there but she couldn't help but peek at him to see if he was watching her. The redhead gathered that the omega was listening to him and soon she finished up her song smiling at the people that clapped towards her and she thanked them.

Her mind was thinking the worst, what did the omega what? She took off her guitar taking a small break before she would carry on again. Glancing over at Dutch again trying to find the right words but after last night she was sure he didn't want to speak to her again let alone see her. "Dutch... I'm sorry" she told him unsure how to speak to the omega after last night's events. All she thought was to apologise again, but she was also unsure why he was here. Her guitar was placed in front of her, her hands around the neck of the instrument.

[slaughter beach, dog]

────── 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 ── ❞𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄❞ ── 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 ──── ◈ ─── ─ ─
─────────────────────────────────────────────────── 𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙂𝘼 ──── ─ ─

LOCATION; unfamiliar woods ─ TAGGING; Sao, Caster ─ MENTIONED; Dutch, Arden, ur mom ─ WC; 2,037

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*


The further east she had gotten, the more the world had become acrid-smelling highways and cities looming as unnatural shapes in the skyline, but crossing Pennsylvania had everything fading into forest again. The towns grew smaller to dodge, then sparser. There were hills again, mountains in the horizon, but the roads through them were alien compared to the ones that wound up and down deep green slopes in the depths of Oregon's national forests. The vastest difference of them all was that there was no ocean peeking through the trees in all of its cold and moody, pacific glory. It had been weeks of landlocked states, sprawling fields, fenced pastures, then mountains again. She missed the ocean, even the places where it smelled of fish and rotting wood.
indentinAnother dawn spread its arms over the sawtooth peaks in the distance, bathing the world in hopeful light and lifting the curtain of blue twilight from the Douglas firs. No, that's not right. A dusty pink nose pressed up against the grooved bark of a tree with a funny-looking knob in its trunk, snuffled up and down, examined the rivulets of resin hardening in the cuts. An archetypal tree butt. The scent of some mustelid drew a winding path around the bough, and svelte paws bound in powdery white fur sent Winnie circling after it with her face pressed to the wood. Smells like pine. Right, Dutch.
indentinAn existence without a pack had a certain looseness about it, a sense of drifting. There was no awareness of compression, denseness, without the presences of many others in her mind. Eventually, what had proven far more lonely than a solitary existence was the knowledge that those she could effortlessly converse with were now seeping into the earth back in Oregon, and the ones on the other side existed inside a hazy prospect. In part, this was frustration over loneliness. She was following a rumour as concrete and apprehensible as dust in the wind, but if Dutch was alive and living here after all, he was the only one to whom she could bring these news.

indentinFour years seemed endlessly far away. Winnie had hardly been twenty when Dutch had disappeared. Melissa. Arden had gone soon after, then Matt. She, Dutch and Kerrin had grown up tight around each other, much in the way of siblings, but after all of those losses, Winnie's family had dwindled to what was close to nothing. Her mother had passed years ago, but her father, someone she had been close with, had followed a few years after Dutch's disappearance and the steep downhill of the pack. Something in him had given out, yielded under the tension drawing around their home like a rubber band. Friends had grown sparse and rare, and that was with everyone, not just herself.
indentinThe ones left had been swallowed by that wave of anger, and she would have been too, if she had not by chance gotten into a petty disagreement and left to let the dust settle again ─ to let a meaningless fight fade as exactly what it had been. There had been lots of arguments, conflict, and scuffles, leading up to that morning. Winnie had caught her fair share of teeth and grown tired of them, the sharp taste in the air and the callous eyes of those who had established themselves as the ones in charge. They were all wolves, that much was true, and as her father had said, come morning light, they all looked just as human as the next person. But those, the ones always reaching for more and snapping at moderation like children who didn't yet know their limits, they had had the eyes of wolves.
indentinBut the loss of a home was the loss of a home, regardless of how fractured ─ and in hindsight, ill-fated ─ they had been. It was the pack she had been born into, the one that had sheltered her grandparents and the generation before that. The wolves whose pelts had brushed hers under the full moon, the souls that had raised her and shaped her. It was the only pack she had known, the family she had no spare for. It stung somewhere deep underneath the adrenaline of survival and her stubborn independence, contributed to the unpleasant weightlessness.
indentinShe was drifting without a home to return to, and that might have been a freedom, but it was an empty gift without someone to share it with as she had always shared. It was all devoid of purpose, and Winnie was a creature of dogged determination. Perhaps that, in part, had driven her on this journey, because it was a simplifying goal to set her eyes on, no matter how convoluted.

indentinWinnie parted with the tree, curved a little toward north based on the rising sun filtering through the deep green needles that left spaces like tunnels under the canopy. There was a worn soreness in her toes as they sank deep into the humus, and she tried to recall whether wolves were in any way a part of the wildlife in Pennsylvania, but she had crossed a vague scent border right before the early light of the sun had shown as faraway beams in the orange of the sky, and if they could live here, her tracks should not be a concern.
indentinThere were places where she had forgotten that, the exposed edges of vast wheat fields and the rusty mats crawling toward sun-bleached pavement from the safety of the woods. This was the longest unbroken period of time she had ever spent as a wolf, and there were moments she awakened from what had been a moment of dreaming, a falling into a space where the wolf's stride lengthened into a seamless flow and lost all human consideration. Winnie turned her snout up toward where two branches brushed each other as a bridge for a squirrel, and blinked her pale blue eyes against the growing and clarifying light.
indentinShe had never been to a big city, and she was not certain whether she would have avoided cities without what had spurred her away from home in the first place, but now, herds of new strangers every day seemed too many people to trust. A train might have carried her here faster, but hiding inside a pelt granted a safety rooted in familiarity where everything was unfamiliar, and besides, it was strange to travel across the country with the same stagnant air. Out in the open, she could follow paths. There was a brief break in the trees, then the ground sloped downward into another stretch of forest. Winnie slipped back into the shadow of the pines, eyes shifting from mossy stone to decaying log as she tasted the air. The pack scent was growing stronger, fresher, and the trails she was crossing were more frequent than before.

indentinThe following ripple of scent was much more intense, a mouthful that washed over the tongue, coated the throat, and prickled in the nose. Winnie stilled, stiffened, lowered her head to rake the underbrush for movement. Brown flashed between the bushes, disturbed the leaves, then a head emerged. A wolf crept toward her and there was no doubt that it was one of her kind, but the scent betrayed it was not the one she had been searching for. It stood hardly any taller than her, but it stared right at her face and flashed ivory teeth, which had Winnie baring her own and snapping her jaws back together as a warning to keep a sane distance. Why aren't you backing down?
indentinCuriosity and a question wafted toward Winnie, pressed at her mind. Why, maybe who. She would show both. Skepticism trickled into her bloodstream, but if Dutch was here, these wolves had to know who he was. Or at least where. Here is who I am and what I am looking for.
indentinA field of creeping dogwood rippled down a shaded hillock like a cougar's pelt. The wind gripped the low stems and led the white stars into a gentle dance. Deer with velvet pelts and wide brown eyes drifted through the sage green of a slope, wandered down rolling hills laid out beneath the sheer rusty wall of a mountain. The cove, twisty driftwood washed grey by the ocean, round pebbles beneath the toes. The black cliffs of the broken shoreline topped with swaying spruces, the white waves that shattered against the shoal, and the salty mist that hung ever-present above the tides. The silhouettes of birds coasting across the grey sky on wide wings. Winter in the heart of the woods, ramrod trees with a crust of snow. River stones, frozen and slippery. Milky breath at the break of dawn. Oregon.
indentinA shaded wooden bridge, its heavy damp smell, arched over a river in a nest of firs and moss. A waterfall, thin as a snake, sliding through the stones in their cradles of downy green, splashing down and spraying mist into her pelt until it stuck out in wet tufts. A dirt path along a river still as a mirror. Cabins held in the embrace of trees. The pack as a profuse presence, noses in her pelt and ears that swiveled to find what hers did not. Home.
indentinHeartbreak, a lost friend, then another, and another. Friction. A storm pulling ancient trees from their roots and fracturing homes. Shattered windows, splintered boards. The flood from the mountains that broke the earth apart. Tension, hunger for power and control. A warning. These memories smelled of ozone and iron. A fear that pressed close to the skin, clammy and congested. Bolts that traveled close underneath the skin, lightning hissing in the nerves. Pandemonium so loud and directionless that it bored into her ears like water. A wall, cloying and metallic in the back of her throat, her mouth, strong enough to wash away the earth, the berries, the green, the sap. A battlefield, slick and red. Death.
indentinMiles of patchy roads and treetops hidden in fog. Farms with picturesque red barns, fields of swaying golden wheat, grazing horses in pastures. In the night, at the edge of this territory, a crow settled onto the bent tip of a pine against the backdrop of bright stars and whisked its tail with the wavering wind tangling in its feathers. Searching. A wolf and man blended together, then clarified into Dutch, a face bearing blue eyes steeped in trust and innocence. His lanky shape inside a house, in a kitchen, then the forest, a childhood friend as good as any brother. These images were many years old, but Winnie found it difficult to imagine him having aged, much less in four years. Words were harder, a foreign language she barely spoke, but she strained and composed a single name to go with the face. Dutch.

indentinA fawn scruff dashed among the brush and another tide carrying more pack scent emerged from the cacophony on these lands. Winnie tensed, swept her eyes through her surroundings and her flank without ever letting the rusty wolf out of her periphery. She was on edge, reluctant to be ambushed and cornered like a deer on a hunt. She was not someone prone to nervousness or hesitation, yet witnessing what she had would put a chip to mind in anyone's resolve. She did not want a pack tightening around her. She simply wanted to find Dutch, then locate another purpose to follow once that one had been accomplished.
indenIt took a moment to break through to the stranger creeping among the trees, to find the humming presence of another mind she had not met before, but she sent them a shove of repulsed emotion that could not be interpreted as anything other than a firm get lost, and not in such kind words. Her pelt snagged along the rough bark of a tree, securing one of the sides she could not keep an eye on, but leaving her one less direction to flee. Her head lifted in a wilful show of control over this situation, telling them to either lead her to what she wanted or let her move on without a pointless scrap.