silent whispers silent tears

Walk | Talk | Think

Small, dainty paws cut through the snow in a purposeful line, the three grey and one white appendages moving in a rhythmic pattern as they carried her toward the heart of the Valhallan territory. Each movement was made with confidence, a surety that had been absent for some time, and the limp that had hindered their synchronicity for so long had all but vanished. The slim grey wolf breathed heavily from her exertions, her body energized much more than it had been for what felt like forever, and within her jaws, set inside a satisfied smile, was a wintry hare: the prize for her efforts.

She carried her kill to the central area of the pack and deposited the small meal amongst what remained of the pack's stockpiles. It had been too long since she had contributed to those she considered close enough to be called an extended family. It had been too long since she had been able to hunt. The time that it had taken for her leg to heal itself had been torturous, trying, difficult in every sense of the word. She had often prided herself on her patience in a hunt, capable of waiting out prey in order to make things easier on herself, but after confining herself to her new den, knowing that it would benefit her in the long run, she wondered how she had managed to find that patience at all.

Still smiling in satisfaction, Ashtoreth traveled away from the center of the pack's camp, making her way toward her den. Or, rather, what used to be Leon's den. Seasons ago he had disappeared without a trace, without a word, and at the time she had sought his preferred of sleeping places for comfort. Now it was more out of habit. It was true, it was far more spacious than she needed, being a small, petite wolf, but she had grown attached to it and still enjoyed being able to sprawl out inside, even if then there was still more room than was necessary.

She cast a surreptitious glance over one shoulder as she came upon it, the three precariously situated boulders marking the entrance. A small sigh left her lips as her trotting gait eased into a casual walk, noting that her injured leg no longer even protested that movement. It was been too long since her last hunt, and she was sad to realize that she was somewhat out of shape for her lack of real exercise during her time of recuperation. A little rest seemed in order.