This one is super tall (Darya sale)
Returning from the motherland was gruelling on the young shaman, elegant limbs straining with the effort of dragging herself towards something familiar. However, a familiar scent on the breeze distracted her from returning to a dark hole in which to sleep for the next few days. She hadn`t seen hide nor hair of her sister in what felt like an eternity, and she wasn't willing to pass up the opportunity. Who knew when she might find Darya again, after all. Broad paws thumped with uncharacteristic gracelessness as she loped south in search of her sister. Champagne pelt shining in the sun, she stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark, muted colours of the woods. She was brought back to the lands where their mother had been born, and thus faced with the grim reminder of her absence. The sounds of voices came from the place where Darya seemed to be, a strong mingling of different scents permeating the air. The pallid femme slowed her pace, taking care to assume her typical posture and grace. It brought renewed aches to every muscle, but she would not present her exhaustion to strangers. As she pushed through the foliage, she spotted her beloved sister. Had she gotten bigger? Entirely possible. She had certainly filled out... She was in chains. A low growl rumbled deep in the shamans chest. Her hackles bristled to attention along her spine, tongue snaking out to caress bared fangs as her mismatched gaze was turned upon her sister's captor. A strange looking female, her paws weren't quite right. The aura around her was muddied at its very edges, but whirled about her vigorously. “I offer a dead Ram, uneaten and my help in skinning it and cleaning the skull.” The words drifted to the forefront of her attention, and the burning gaze of the northern woman landed upon the wolf who'd spoken. Another female, smaller than the rest. Narrow cranium drew itself up to full height, regarding the assembled wolves. A mountain of a male, marked in slate. She had seen him before. Where? Fuzzy memories arose, but she couldn't draw anything concrete forth. She gathered her bearings, and cooled her expression into an icy mask. A few movements of her neck and shoulders dumped her satchel onto the ground at her feet, and she nosed the flap aside to peek within. There were a few tinctures from her relatives in the motherland, some strips of dried meat for her trip, all wrapped in a thick strip of tiger skin. She heaved a sigh, and lifted her skull again to pin the leader of this bidding war with a stare. "One jar containing a carefully prepared mixture of ginseng root, elderberry, and extract of alfalfa to aid in recovery from illness. One jar of yarrow, white willow bark, and horsetail for minor to moderate wounds. I will include the skin of a white tiger in which it is wrapped." she announced, tone sharp as a blade. Her gaze softened as she flicked it to her sister, vocals lowering in volume as she uttered "Не беспокойся, Яя." She resorted to their mother tongue in hopes no one else would be able to make heads or tails of what was being said. Once this was over, there would be a lot to talk about. |