Contemplation

A mixture of dead grass and hardened snow would crunch beneath the man's powerful strides. It was not yet his time to grow old and as he aged his body only tightened and strengthened. Somehow Deteste knew he was destined to live a long life and he was perhaps only half way through the haphazard journey that had become his life. These parts were uncharacteristic for Deteste and he had come with only one purpose. To seek the man he knew named Cormalin for he had heard disturbing rumors regarding a war to come and within the uproar of such heated gossip he knew this Valhallan wolf would be the one to provide him with the most truth.


Black water rushed parallel to the man's route in the form of a river. The sound was loud and eerie against the vast emptiness and silence of the winter valley. In the distance a muffled thud would echo and his head would raise to pay the commotion attention, his stride quickening yet becoming more sure footed as the distance between he and his unknown company closed. The woman's scent would reach him first. The warmth of it reminding him of life in the midst of a stagnant and bitter winter. Next would come the outline of her colorless pelt against the snow, the opacity of her body being the only quality to separate her from it. For a moment a fleeting thought told Deteste that the figure was Laxago and in that split second his heart would clench painfully, forcing his breath from him as memories clouded his mind and then parted from him in the same fleeting speed they had come. Thus he would come upon the stranger breathlessly, his even stride suddenly broken into a stiff legged walk. Ho, stranger. he would speak, the timbre unwavering. He would attempt a tight smile in greeting as he realized familiar qualities within the woman's scent but the wistfulness that his memories had left him with would not break and steal the expression from his cold, cerulean eyes.