something like an epilogue
10-16-2016, 03:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-16-2016, 03:31 PM by Orica.)
The options of this land were growing smaller. The black wolf had a feeling she was finally tracking things down. There was something famliar about this place. About the trees. The snow. Even the scent. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Perhaps nothing more than one of her flights of fancy or 'daydreamings' as some of her former packmates had called her quasi-visions. After all, how could she possibly recognize a scent - even a family scent - after all this time? How many miles lay in between them? How many moons? A wolf could lead a full, adventure filled life in just three years and it had been almost twice that since she'd laid eyes on any of her old family. It might as well have been decades since she bid a tearful goodbye to her parents. Saying she wanted at least a couple season to herself nad her adventures. She hadn't meant for a summer to turn into a century. So much had happened just in that first season. To her. And, she learned through rumors, to her birth-pack. She'd learned of Glaciem's disbanding. (Though she couldn't help but doubt the tongues that spoke of her sire's defeat in a challenge) She learned of its move - of its turning into a smaller clan and fading away into distant horizons. Over the years she'd always kept an eye open and an ear pricked for any news of those who still held her heart. But only recently had she heard the trailing whispers; a rise of the old Ancora line. True it was an old bloodline - its roots went deep and its branches spread far enough to encompass half a forest all on its own... but the words could not be denied. Maybe there would be close family - or maybe only cousins of cousins with no clue who she was even by name. Either way, when she found them, Orica intended to offer herself and her services as a healer. Time had softened her towards thoughts of home and hearth. Towards her past. And having pups of her own made her able to grasp a mother's love. Ocena and Gargoyle were probably long gone.. passed on to a peaceful rest together, but who knew. After all, her line had a claim to longevity and surprises. Orica prepared as best she could for such a "surprise", as she came to where the scent markers seemed strongest and sat herself down in the snow. Heaven forbid she cross the border, but she had ever intention of planting herself on the pack's doorstep and staying there until she had someone to talk to. The black and white fae let out a howl - high and haunting and sing song in its way. The call of a loner to an Alpha. To Pack. She wasn't exactly alone in truth. Yona, her dear, loyal daughter would be along shortly. They'd traveled more or less together - but always with a freedom that let the two explore and take whatever time they wished. The life of wanders and nomads would take some time before ever it rubbed off. Still, better that there was a bit of a delay in case this northern pack proved unfriendly. Orica was not a fighter. Never had been. But she had her own wars and battle fronts all the same. She'd held life and death in her paws, as so many of her kin and kind had. Perhaps a wise wolf would see that in her eyes despite her short statue and gentle demeanor. |
10-19-2016, 01:01 AM