Not Moving On

*Celeste*

Her time here in the new land was proving to be more eventful than she originally thought. Now, how she'd gotten here in the first place was still hidden deep within her memories, but at least she was safe. Petite and strong-willed, Celeste knew she would make it in life, somehow. Traveling had been her first idea. To get a lay of the land and see what there was. Finding the different pack borders and realizing how big it was had come as a surprise to her. Washing up on the beach that day had made her believe it was a smaller island. Boy was she wrong. Not in a bad way; as she'd already made a friend or two and found a lonely slave and Maine coon cat to keep her company.

Needing time to herself to wander and collect her thoughts, Celeste had left the boy, Seven, and her newly horned cat to their own devices. The fact that her cat had sprouted horns as his crystals had fallen off had bewildered her. This place was rightfully unusual and she needed time to think. What was she going to do here? In truth, after meeting the lazy punk at the beach who had admittedly written her a terrible poem had actually caught her attention. During her free time, she found herself thinking back to meeting him again. As girly as that sounded, she hoped it would come true.

Daydreaming was her typical afternoon hobby, but it would catch her off guard today as the sound of paws scratching at dirt made her pause. Lifting her horned crown up with a few blinks of her aquamarine eyes, she glanced around the willows. Swaying in a gentle breeze, a light scent of wolf and a variety of prey made her look deeper into the shadows. Not far off, a girl swathed in blacks and purples buried into the muddy grass that spread out around the grove of weeping trees. Curious, as she normally was, Celeste couldn't help but approach. Making quick steps with her dainty paws, she only let out a quick chuff under her breath to let her presence be known.

"What do we have here? Digging a pit?" She asks in her slightly thick accent. Growing accustomed to speaking more of a common tongue in these parts, Celeste lets her head tilt as her bright eyes wander around the scene. What she sees is a tired girl digging with two sticks and a piece of line drawn across. A trap? Huh, seemed smart to her and maybe if she helped, she could get a bite to eat herself.

word count: 812/1500

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