Another sleepless night.

Modesty made her way to the mainland this time, turning her eyes up to the stars, partly obscured by clouds, but nothing that would threaten rain. Perhaps it was all the resting she had managed when she was unwell, but sleep seemed to be eluding her more often than not. It had been some time since she had just moved for the sake of moving, for curiosities sake. Most of the land immediately surrounding the cavern, out to seas plain, she knew like the back of her paw at this point, but it had been an age since she found herself in the swampland... It had been where their mother had taken them when she had fled... Could that be where she was hiding?

Trees began to crowd in the closer she drew to the unmistakable soft ground with its earthy scent of mud and moss. It wasn't unpleasant, but the air seemed to hang heavy, fog rising to release the heat the ground had held for the day. Not for the first time, she wished she had something like Deluges glow to light her way, to cut through her soupy surroundings.

I was just a bit further, right? To the temporary camp they had claimed when they first fled the shrine? She had lost the guidance of the stars and none of the marks on these trees seemed fresh. It was also absent any familiar scent to lead her onwards... She stopped, looking over her shoulder. Same trees behind her that seemed to stretch out in front. Sure, it would probably be less disorienting once the sun rose and burned away the fog, but that wouldn't help her now. So she kept walking.

“Speech.”

-291/1500-

Wet. Can one even describe what it is like to always be wet? Paws damp. Each hair clinging to droplets, permanently sodden with the mud that surrounds him. Dry land? What's that? He wouldn't know. He only finds himself in places where puddles and rivers linger every few feet. It is home to him. He finds comfort in the way his paws make that squelching noise. Each step suctioning to the muddy mixture until he pulls it up and out of its grasp. Some find it disgusting. He can sense the eyes on him as he wanders. From place to place, not much on his mind. Eyes in the shadows. Other wolves, predators, little prey animals that taunt him. Still young, still quite the... inexperienced hunter. He's trying though. He's also trying to be better at navigating.

Once he crossed what some called The Bifrost, he actually found himself lost. Hadn't actually made his way to this Boreas continent before. Had no idea what lay in store for him as he followed the eastern shore north. From fields of puddles to black sands to suddenly being surrounded by fog and muck and tall grass. Twisting trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches hanging low and tickling his forehead every so often. He doesn't mind it actually. He is tall, looming himself, over most as his vibrant ruby eyes stare ahead. Menacing in a sense except the glimmer of a smirk betrays him. There's no seriousness about him. Youthful carelessness brings about a terror that is more harmless than murderous.

His own gaze looks to the sky. Covered by those twisting and ugly branches, he wonders where the stars had all gone. Not a cloud, but the fog is so thick he almost believes he can't breathe through it. What was this place? A trap? Distracted by those thoughts, wandering, aimless, no end, he doesn't notice the woman lingering up ahead. Not until that gentle shift in the breeze brings her scent his way. Freezing, one paw up, hackles puffing slightly, he watches her. She's older, a mother? The way her body is shaped gives away what she probably wishes to hide. Her coat though is mesmerizing. Much more appetizing than his camouflage of browns and greens. Pausing, he waits to finish closing the distance. Instead, he choose to be cheeky.

"Think you're heading the wrong way, miss. I'm back here," the coy look on his face reveals all. Yes, he's lost. Yes, he has no idea what he's doing. But does he care? Probably not any in the least.

719/1500

   

If she'd had the sense and foresight, she could have marked her trail, but there was no point getting upset about it now, especially when it seemed she suddenly wasn't alone. The voice that calls to her holds no familiarity and it is fortunate that she hasn't heard tales of the creatures that call from the wild places in the night, otherwise, she might have been a little less inclined to turn, oversized feline ears flicking atop her head. The fog and the cover of night, clouds shifting to cover the moon and reveal it again do little to assist her in making out the shape of her unplanned companion. When coupled with his dappled coat of greens and browns (like Gil, but muddier, she thought to herself when her eyes finally found him), it was a challenge to really make much out of him in the dark, except that he is large, he might even be a little larger than her.

She parted her lips as if to answer and then closed them again, a deadpan expression offered while she calculated whether or not the boy was worth a response. Travelling through this terrain under these conditions sure would be a lot easier with company, but did she have the stomach for it with everything else that was going on? She blinked slowly, her shoulders dropping millimetres in defeat. Or, at least it might seem that way to anyone else.

If she wasn't mistaken, she should be close to the witch's hollow...

Her eyes narrowed marginally, and she allowed her breath to pass her lips in an almost silent “heh,” Not quite a laugh but betrayed by the ghost of a grin pulling at the corner of her lips that could very well be lost in the darkness of her muzzle and the late night shadows. “You think? Have you even been here yourself before? There's a witch that lives in these woods, haven't you heard?” Her own eyes had taken on mischievous glint too.

“Speech.”

-1056/1500-

Wilder stands there in the muck in all of his coy glory. That is until the woman's words have him taking a step back. One paw nearly trips over a gnarled root that seemingly rises from nowhere. Both ears flick backward as he notices the returned mischievous expression on her face. "A w-witch?" He whispers loud enough for her to hear through the dense fog. A witch was more definitely not on his radar and something he did not want to come face to face with. Letting out a rough sort of noise, something between indignation and hiding his growing fear, Wilder gives his head a shake.

"You gotta be messing with me. Witches don't exist," Wilder tries to be adamant. He even gives his head a little shake, trying to rid himself of the nibbling fear at the back of his head. There was no way witches existed... He lived in bogs like these since he was born and had never crossed paths with such a creature. If anyone was accustomed to swamp life, it was him.

Taking that moment to glance around, he tells himself that there definitely isn't spooky noises happening either. That the loud creaking noise he hears is just the wind bending weak branches. Or the gurgling noise is gas making its way from the acidic bottom of lakes to emerge through thick mud into the air. He definitely didn't hear a distant cackle - that surely had been a raven, right? "I was just trying to find my way out, that's all," he mentions, eyes training back to the colorful woman. Was she the witch?

1326/1500

   

The way he tripped over the word made her smirk and he might have caught a glint of a white tooth as the moon crawled out from behind a cloud, making the fog all the soupier in the process. She could have easily sidestepped behind a tree and reappeared somewhere else in the same space, but she wasn't quite feeling that cruel. When he insisted witches didn't exist though, a brow arched, “Oh really, then what need do they have for a whole hut full of critters in jars?” she countered with a certainty that was difficult to fake. “It's in the middle of this swamp, or near enough, don't believe me, well, just keep it in mind if the fireflies start to swarm. I tried to warn you... better to seek it out in daylight though.” She didn't like the change in the atmospheric pressure. It made her fur want to stand on end, probably had something to do with the gasses or static in the fog surely?

As if to back up her outlandish claims, a light seemed to dance in the corner of her vision and she pulled her lips back in a silent snarl. “Don't follow the fool's flames, you'll be drowned before the night is through.” She tipped her head back behind herself. “I'll not lie, I'm lost myself, but away from those things is generally as good a direction as any.” It wasn't so much an invitation as it was telling the boy what way she was going. He could follow her if he wanted. “How did you end up out here at this time of night anyway?”

“Speech.”

-1600/1500-