Griffith dragged himself onto the small strip of land, his mane soaked through and largely blocking his view as massive paws just barely pulled him onto relatively dry land. He'd found hismelf on one of the small strips of sand largely unconnected to the rest of the continent, none of which Griffith cared about right now. No he cared about one thing, and one thing only and he'd led her to her death in the sea. Griffith fell onto his side, letting gravity take him, he didn't care what happened to him anymore. Crown prince or castaway, did it matter? His body shivered against his will. He wished it would just stop, shut down and let him slip away. He's watched her head slip under the waves... and then she hadn't come back up. He'd screamed her name until his throat was raw and then instinct had taken over, he'd paddled even though he hadn't wanted to. He didn't want to survive if she didn't get to!  

He'd done this. He'd been the one to whisk her away without a warning, had been the one to tell her the secret that had necessitate he take her away in the first place. The best thing that had ever happened to Griffith had been meeting her, and it had been the worse thing to happen for her... Griffith groaned and curled in on himself, his limbs so sore. He moved without wanting to, a paw rising to his ducked head and without thinking he started to slowly dry it, rasping his tongue along his paw, then along his forelimb and then his chest. But he didn't have it in him to sit up, so he stopped once he'd gotten his shoulder area and laid his massive head back down in the sand, eyes staring blankly at the horizon before him, the cruel winter sun reflecting off the water around him and forcing his eyes closed. Maybe if he was lucky he'd wake up back in his chambers, and this will have been nothing but a nightmare. The way his leg was cramping made him doubt he'd be so lucky.

- | movement | speech  -

code by Cloudy

Winter was a good time to catch up on travel. There were still many things to do, but it was one of the least busy seasons for a farm, and everything could either be easily covered by just one or two packmates, or put off until she returned. She had a lot of goods to be traded away from the year's work, so she had made a bundle of woven blankets, soft tanned furs, mead, cider, and smoked lamb to carry along with her as she went, to trade it where she could. Well, the lamb was mostly for her, so she didn't have to hunt as much along the way. She liked to be prepared.

What she was not prepared for was coming around a curve in the path to find herself face to face with a huge, dead, wet lion.

Even less prepared to find that it was actually breathing, not dead at all.

She froze in place a moment, eyes fixed on the dangerous creature sprawled across the way. With the travois behind her, she couldn't possibly back up - the dragging poles were not exactly made for that. Nor did it seem like a wise proposition to move forward past the lion without knowing if it was conscious or not. So she waited with one paw still raised mid step, watching the big cat to see if it stirred.

Griffith's eyes had drifted shut at some point and he'd started to doze, even despite the cold but he was brought back to the world of waking by an unfamiliar scent and sound. He half lifted one of his lids and searched for the source of the noise, what had disturbed his brief respite? A small canine figure approaching. Griffith closed his eye again and groaned internally, so maybe he was to die though not by his own paws but that of the scavengers. The sound stopped and things were silent for a moment. The man assumed the beast was approaching quietly in case he planned to run or was awake. But he never felt fangs digging into his flesh and finally he opened his eyes and lifted his head again to see the small figure was stopped mid-step.

"Fantastique..." He grumbled. "Just get it over with, I'm sure the colder and wetter I get the less good I'm gonna taste." He called out to the figure a... Woman? He'd only ever seen wolves on few occasions when visiting dignitaries brought any in their retinue with them. With his luck they didn't understand either language he spoke. Griffith dropped a forpaw over his eyes and laid his head back down.

- | movement | "Speech"  -

code by Cloudy

The big, maned cat shifted, and Corbie stayed motionless, only her cautious eyes and ears moving to track him. And then... he spoke. The corner of her mouth tilted up slightly in a reluctant smile. How dramatic. The beast was easily twice or more her size, he was surely not really threatened by her. "I can assure you that I've not made it a habit of eating cats, and I've no intention of starting now." She tilted her head, relaxing a little from her frozen stance now that it appeared the cat would be unlikely to attack, and indeed seemed inclined towards conversation. "Are you quite all right? What happened to you?"