Straying

*Azalea* · 05-28-2013, 07:42 PM

It was about time that Azalea got out of Dodge. Valhalla was in a rough patch. Her father had handed down his post but to who she did not really know. Epiphron would make a grand alpha one day but she was not quite two years old yet and by most all standards that was too young to lead. Cairo had been the one to officially appoint her aunt a helping hand but even Cairo seemed to doubt the survival of their pack.

Azalea was not even a year old, she couldn't possibly manage to comprehend all the politics of the pack, any pack. It was beyond her to wonder what might happen if Valhalla continued downhill like it was. Currently the pack was a boulder, rolling slowly down a slight incline... but what if that incline steepened?

The young female finally paid attention to where she was going. Water sloshed against a bank somewhere through the thick undergrowth. She stepped through the foliage, determined to find it. Her tongue was like sandpaper, dry and heavy in her mouth. She needed a drink. A hind paw got caught in the tendrils of some odd bush causing her to stumble out into the open. The petite gal flopped to the waters edge where she lay with her front legs curled under her, lapping at the cool liquid as though she hadn't had a drink in days.

A shrill call made her jump, her body jolting in a way that made her heart ache. Eyes flashed to her right to see a tiny figure playing in the shallows. A wolf, younger than her. He was a mixture of shades from a mild grey to a coal color. That was all the detail she could see from this distance. She pushed to her paws, making a ruckus as she did. He would know she was here. Her head hung low, eyeing him. She was not afraid, but weary. He was young enough that an approach was a real gamble. He could have the wrong kind of company with him.

She held her ground, alert, and waited for him to make a move or for more wolves to appear.

Speech,

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