shout into the void

*Orica* · 10-19-2016, 12:02 PM

The screams came from the left - no no - from the right. The black and white wolf ran first one way, then the other, paws skittering on the half frozen rock beneath her feet. Maybe they came from above? From below? From without? From within? The twists and turns of the place made for a dozen different echos - all explosions of raw emotion, raw pain, raw pleasure in the purity of feeling given life through sound. Orica might have thought it a whole pack of wolves if she hadn't been listening keenly when it first started. Spirits above, she'd been searching. She'd been wanting signs of life. She got it tenfold.

She bent her head low, one foreleg crooked to rub a paw at her ear. That had not been pleasant. The first gush took her by surprise. She shook her head, every fur on her body floofed against more than the cold now. She couldn't even be certain it was a wolf. It sounded like a demon. It could be a ghost or ghoul. A spirit of the mountains angered by her presence. Though what objection it could have, she didn't know. Well, she knew something of appeasing ghosts. And something of healing wolves. She padded on, ears bent sideways, wishing to see what she was dealing with.

The healer ghosted her way along the caverns, weaving between pillars of stone and stepping through puddles of ice cold solution that dripped from the ceiling - the tears of the underworld. Glaciem had had places like this. In the depths of winter, they took shelter in a network of caves in the heart of their territory. Or they had. They were safe and defensible if one was not stupid about them. If they were thoroughly explored and marked out. Orica had been born in one such place - in a nest of dried tundra moss and pine boughs and fur from musk ox kills. It could've been a place just such as this, the small fae thought as she looked down a shallow corridor.

With the shouts still echoing she figured that it wasn't likely to be an attacked wolf - it would've been eaten by now. And if stuck somewhere - why didn't it articulate words into something like 'help'? Orica sent up a howl of her own. Maybe it would be lost in the choas, or maybe it would make it through. Either way the voice - whether spirit or wolf - would have the chance to know it was no longer alone.

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