Scattered Scents

Walk | Talk | Think

The wintry weather had altered the cove, turning the dark sands white with snow and the typically clear skies grey with clouds. Mercianne stared upward into them, dark brown eyes heavy with worry and sadness. Still no daughter, now absent sons, and not a clue what to do about it. She had been searching everywhere that she could think for Kestrel with a desperation that made her relentless in her mission. Unfortunately it seemed to have backfired; in her absence, her boys had scattered in their own searches for safety or comfort or entertainment, whatever they had lacked that had sent them on a journey to fill the gaps in their lives. And Merci was left nothing but scattered scents.

Turning away from the shoreline, the creamy white wolf padded the short distance back toward her den, empty and quiet for the time being. Not even the scents of her collected plants were there to keep her company, having grown useless due to time and her inattention. She had discarded them all and delayed any searches for replacements, telling herself it was best to wait until the weather became better, warmer, though deep down she knew it was really because she could not be bothered. There was too much else on her mind, too many distractions to allow her such a trivial moment of self-indulgence.

Pausing partly through the threshold of the den, she paused, staring at the open, empty space. Not a second earlier she had thought this where she would like to go for now, but the loneliness hung more heavily here. No mate, no children, not even her old pack mates to lean on. With a sigh Mercianne backed out of the den and put her back to it, ears laying themselves upon her head as she sat down, stared off, and descended into deep thought.