Walking On Gravestones

Paladin had decided to patrol after his return from gathering Iris roots. The encounter with Sterling had been a welcome distraction. Now, only a few hours later, he settled the last stone that made the initial layer of the border stones. He didn’t doubt more would be laid, especially as the snow deepened over the winter.

Snow crunching ahead in the slight flurries caught his attention, and he stood very still, one paw raised, watching with alert sapphire and amethyst eyes. A strange female ahead. One of the pack members he hadn’t met? But the wind, buffeting his face, carried her scent. A loner, as far as he could tell. The pungent scents of herbs mingled with her scent and, as he squinted, he spotted the bundle of the plants in her jaws.

He knew the snow would disguise most of him, but his black markings, even sprinkled over with the stuff, would stand out like… well, like Regulus would have. However, she didn’t seem to see him, nor did she look from side to side. What did happen was that she tripped, nearly onto her face, over the stone border. And into the pack’s territory.

He watched in silence as she investigated the border, her brow-points frowning, certain that with how her nose pressed to the stones, she should be able to smell the strong scents of a pack’s marks, even through the herbs in her jaws. However, after a moment, she continued on. A soft huff of breath misted from his jaws as he shifted to move parallel with her, stepping as lightly as he could and keeping his distance just beyond hearing over the crunch of snow initially. As he watched her, he eventually concluded that, since she hadn't seen him, she was either wholly unobservant of her surroundings, or she was blind.

As soon as she had delved far too deep for comfort, which he deemed to be about a hundred paces, he put on a turn of speed, throwing out a howl to shatter the peaceful winter air, calling for the rest of the pack before he slammed on his brakes, aiming to set himself in her path, facing her. He stood a bit taller, though not by much, and now that he was closer, he could see the hint of cataracts that prevented her sight.

Brogued baritone notes rumbled out in a firm, authoritative voice. “Turn back now. You’re trespassing in the territory of Celestial. Turn back now, or be attacked.” His posture was relaxed, but his paws were placed evenly to bear his weight comfortably, and his toes were spread, claws flexed to keep traction in the snow. His tail was held level with his spine, and his chin was tucked to guard his throat. He wasn’t keen on attacking a blind wolf, but he knew better than to deem her harmless just because of her lack of sight.