raise up the veil
Orica broke into a run. The gorse and grass and heath flowers all passed away beneath her paws, churning one after another in a pace as instinctual and endless as the rise and fall of the stars. The heather that swarmed over the hills was purple as the promise of coming dawn. It bent and swayed ever so gently, though the air was too thick to give voice to any wind or breeze. The air was still clean and fresh, with a chill to it that could not be ignored. It sent a shiver through the fur, fluffing it. As if every part of the body were equally aware and alert and alive to whatever resided over the place. The older fae's white paws went faster and faster, but ever gentle on the earth. Her head snaking out, ears pinned back - and tail flying out behind her like a clan's banner. She had been described as a nymph in her past years, but now she appeared more as a ghost - a spirit gracing the lands only for a moment before racing on into deeper mists.
But a sound, half heard, brought her to a halt. As quickly as she'd picked up the pace, all sign of it vanished and she stood, tail down, ears up, near the crest of the hill where the mist was yet thick and whirling. She swore she saw something up ahead - strange shapes, unmoving. Stones? Beasts? Mountains in miniature? She couldn't say. But she needed to find out. What ever could be holding her back.
She looked behind her. The cry must have been that of an eagle or hawk. It hadn't sounded like an adult wolf. And yet... there had been words. The healer turned well around. Blue eyes with all the potency of day shined and shimmered as they cast themselves over the land. Shreds of fog were still strewn about the moors. For all she could see, her single moor might be the only one in existence. Set amid a grey sea, under a barely lightening sky. The breeze tugged at clumps of her white and black fur - ruffling her neck as she craned for sight or scent. She was upwind but she caught something. Wolf that was not familiar to her... and yet there was something homey about it. Something soft and warm and earthy. ~Mother's milk!~ It was the scent of pup! Either that or her own mother's instincts were toying with her. Certainly she'd grown more fond of such things since having a litter of her own years back. Tender-hearted as she was even to strangers, having a litter of her own was enough to send her soul to overflowing. Sometimes it flooded where no streambeds traces. A mother's feeling soaked into other parts of her day and life. What out here could possibly call to mind her own pups?
She wondered, with an ear flicking back to the crown of the hill. Did that have something to do with why she was here? She was about to resume her journey when she saw something - a bit of cream colored fur against the dark foliage and shadows. Orica shifted on her paws. It was a wolf cub! ~Are there others nearby?~ she wondered ~Have I unknowingly tread over someone's home? Or is it a vision? A spirit of this place?~
Orica's blue eyes narrowed into slits as she looked. But then her head was being thrown back. A howl, long and high, gentle and haunting almost to the point of mournful left her muzzle. Orica's voice was naturally high - sweet and clear and singsong like mountain brooks or golden field birds. It no longer had the added charm of youth, but age had not yet come to scratch it up. If there was a pack, she didn't want to be thought sneaking. If there was someone who'd lost a pup, it would alert them too others in the area. And if the babe was lost, the come-forward howl was hardly a threat or a battle cry. It was more a song. One that wolves heard with their very blood. And if a spirit, well, it was welcome to join in with a song of its own. |