it's true, i crave you

. . .

Shall I tell you tale of a traveler? There could never be anything more sweet than the world opening up before your paws, the horizons spreading out in every direction, the winds fighting for your affections, each begging you to follow. The wanderlust born and bred of a line of wolves with many miles logged, all concentrated into one giantess. Ere her first birthday she felt it - the need to escape, to run, to adventure, to fall, to get back up and keep going. For moons upon moons she was on her own, taking what beatings or joys might pass her way and growing stronger for it, so that by the time she was in her second year, she was a force to be reckoned with. Yet the wanderlust never changed. Life was a game, a journey, everything that came her way was all just a small part of it. Including a great Grey Lady who asked her to join a pack. The giantess, after some thought, complied, and for a time she knew what it was to be stable, to be dependable, and to be helpful. It was a fun game, and it had earned her a few friends. But the game ended and they all lost. The pack was taken away, and the Grey Lady was seen less and less.

Champion didn't know what to do with herself. Which was odd in and of itself. She always knew what to do - whatever she wanted! But since joining Amenti that had changed. She did what needed to be done. A different side appeared to the fae - the one born of her military upbringing. The respectful, no nonsense Beta that did whatever her Queen asked of her. From it, there was a certain level of satisfaction and honor and fulfillment to be gained, but it wasn't the same as when she had been on her own.

Being in a pack meant that when danger came, it didn't just go after her. - That she was fine with. No, now it came after those she cared about. Those she was supposed to protect. It broke her heart to see Newt cast down. What if it had been one of the pups getting hurt? Or Vioxes? Life stopped getting fun, when you started having to worry about other wolves. Mainly because other wolves didn't see things her way. In her mind, death was just a piece of play ground equipment. She was used to pain and loss and recovery. Nothing phased her. Except seeing her packmates hurting and afraid. In her heart of hearts, she wanted her old days back.

And that was why she was wandering now. She was seeking answers that only solitude and miles could bring. Vaguely she followed the scent of salt, until she came at last to a tucked away bay of cliff edges and waving trees, and choppy waters. Beautiful. A swim was just what she needed. The giantess carried herself to the edge of the rock face, studied it for a moment, and then plunged herself over the brink. The wolf the size of a bear, then began to show off her footwork. Massive white paws, gripped stone with claw and pad, going from one shelf to another, zig-zagging and leaping or even falling when neccisary. The tempo increased the farther she went, until she seemed a blur upon the ridge. Once or twice the stone crumbled beneath her paws, but it was never enough to make her stop, she just fell a little farther before catching herself and carrying on. At the end she hit the ground like a metor, sand flying up from the impact, but she'd landed squarely, and her massive legs recieved nothing more than a stubbed toe. A second later she was trotting again, legs prancing, the sun gleaning off her golden 'arm guard' markings, her massive tail curled high over her back like a bear-dog's.

Of course, long before she reached the water's edge, she realized that she was not alone. A ghost of a figure was coming, gliding across the sand. From a good tweny yards away Champion could pick out a pair of marvelous pink eyes - a shade rare enough to rival her own wine colored gems. Champion paused in her pace, at some level entranced by the graceful movements. Whether the white wolf coming was friend or foe, she would wait and greet him. Unknowingly at the time, she had made quite an entrance for herself, now she would let the strange male make his own.

. . .