She was driven here somehow... A feeling? An... Aching? She couldn't really tell what it was.But something in her heart told her it was time to come here. In the dead of night. Yes, in the dead of night she trekked miles to the north to this stupid piece of shit place that she told herself time after time that she wouldn't come back. And yet, here she was, under the moon, a chilled breeze flowing between her fur. Her face pouted angrily as she marched her way up to the ship, mad at her brain for telling her to come here. Let's just get this over with already! Her body would stop just outside the door off the hinges on the side of her childhood home. Moments that seemed like hours, the girl would stare at the opening, eyes now softening as she looked at the place in awe. Shaking her fur, she put back on her angry face and hopped into the ship. She started by walking to the left, into where her and her family usually slept. It was a lot smaller than she remembered it, only because she was a pup the last time she was here. Walking over to Jian's usual spot, she put her pay where her mother used to lay at night. Others had lived here well after she had left and the scent of the Leone's were well gone. No Lel, no Jian, no Calder and Armai, and no Zola and... Lian. Turning around she would shuffle her way outside the old den, trying to escape the memories and pain she was slightly experiencing, not exploring the rest of the ship. This could have been someone's home and she was probably intruding, but the girl didn't let the thought cross her mind. She would instead exit the ship and make her way over to the ocean shore. Stopping to look at the waves, gently crashing at her feet, she then looked up at the full moon and sat down. This was it. She was alone. Somewhere in her heart she even missed her father, and now she was really sad. Looking back down to the swishing water, some hitting her toes she would start to cry, to bawl, and feel nothing but what she kept bottled up for the past three years. This is where her and Lian would escape the ship, this is as far as they had come. This is where they confessed their love for each other even at such a young age. They knew what it meant, their age didn't matter. She then cried up a howl to the moon, collapsing after her call took her breath away and she laid in the shoreline, shivering from her tears and the cold. Walk "Talk" Think

~*~ Orica had meant to sleep deep and long - her tail drawn round her like a blanket, curled up in the nest of thread-bare, foreign furs (skins, but not-skins) that littered the wreck. She had meant not to open her blue eyes until they could glimspe an approaching dawn. But such was not to be the case. She was awakened by sounds of distress - by howls of hurt. Being a healer by nature and by trade, it was far from the first time. Where she could have slept through a storm peacefully (and had here, not so long ago) these sounds had her on her paws before she had finished blinking her eyes open. For the moment, her own mission was forgotten. There'd been nothing in the north. She'd done as Aki had suggested. She'd searched just south of this place - found a frozen lake and many peaks, and a place of pines just as he had mentioned. There were stale scent markers there and traves of enough wolves that even the snow hadn't covered them all, even given the time. But there was no one living there now. And no sign that it was the pack Orica had been seeking for so long. yet she didn't loose fate. She was quite certain it was fated she find them eventually. Even if just on her last day breathing. She had seen it. She had felt it. So she was paciently waiting for it to come to be. All the same, perhaps coming back here was a waste of her time. She had had hopes of running into Aki again.... but the male was off on his own travels - as he had said he would be. Foolish really. But no harm done.  It just showed to her how keenly she missed the company of other wolves - even if they were just the nomads of her old 'pack' or the travelers she met on the road. Seemed no shortage of the latter. Not here anyway. The sobs continued, deep-reaching gasps and cries of pain deeper than a wolf's claws could reach. They drifted on the wind like the mourning songs of ghosts. Seeming to shiver against the ship's silver innards. Orica shifted herself out of the little den she'd made. Though still sleepy, the little she-wolf's paws were graceful upon the snow and metal. Her half closed eyes were barely needed for navigation - she crawled up stairways and ducked under fallen beams with the ease of practice. Only the leather satchel - that always hung from her shoulder - oft times bumped against the walls. But it was soft and light with dried herbs. Plants and barks and talismans, all tools of her calling. The same calling that had her walking towards the source of pain, the way some wolves were drawn to sources of thrill and pleasure. She slithered through a rent opening in the haul of the ship and stood gazing at the world of white and black beyond. It was like her - dark above and pale below. The same went for the figure down along the shores. The one that had thrown itself upon the sand, seemingly to die. Orica said nothing, just picked her way quietly and calmly towards it. If she was somehow heard - or if her presence was spotted (she made no attempt to hide it) then she would pause where-ever she was. But if the sounds of sorrow and night-winds served to drown out her feather-light steps, then she would let herself come within a few paces of the stranger, before laying her own smaller frame down upon the frozen earth. The wordless questioning sound of a whine would leave her muzzle. A supplicating, submissive sound. For she was about as far from a threat as a wolf could be. She'd like nothing better than to press her side against the heaving ones of the other fae. To offer warmth in a cold, unforgiving land, and whatever peace can be brought by a quiet, unassuming presence. But she had not lived to a ripe old age by draping herself over cornered and pained strangers. ....Actually, alright, she kinda had. But with age comes wisdom, does it not? "Soothee darling," she said in barely a whisper. The mother in her showed. Her words something like a sad song, and something like a quiet ripple. "Be at peace, wolf, or vent your heart if that will bring it. Or if this is to be a last howl of mourning, will you let a stranger sing it with you?"  She would remain lying, almost flat to the ground, her ears tipped back and tail low. "Forgive me, for I mean not to trouble you more. I'll be on my way if you wish it." ~*~

Even though the woman made herself very known in her presence, Zola would be too distraught to notice. So when the woman would eventually speak quietly, even after laying down beside her and everything, Zola would lift her lip and show her teeth with a growl, though not looking over at the other woman. But for some reason, a reason very much physically shown, Zola was not in her normal, cocky, "I'm going to rip your throat out" mood. Instead, she would relax her lips again and continue to sob through the woman's words. Still laying on her stomach, she rubbed her dripping eyes on her forelegs trying to calm herself to at least a speech recognizing tone. Face stayed a little buried in her legs as she started, "He left me." A quiet hiccup in her words, "He fucking left me." She couldn't help but think that she could have been dead right now. Lian would have killed her. He had truly left her at her grave. Either that or she could have came crawling back to Lel and he would have killed her himself. He wouldn't have done that really but her life would have been miserable. Her father would have abused her, maybe even used her like he did Armai's mother... And the thought had sickened her. It was odd that she was opening up to this stranger, even a little bit. But she probably would never see the woman again and if she had, it wouldn't be too pleasant of a meeting, she was sure. She didn't care much for other females, and especially didn't care much for healers at that. She believed it was what the weak turned to when they couldn't fight. She would find herself at fault much later in life when the whole world had hated her and she would be left bleeding out on the floor. "You can do what you want." She spat at the woman, still making no eye contact. She would probably be more open with the older fae if she had asked. She was feeling risky tonight, and spilling her faults would not be hard to let fall. But she wouldn't let the woman touch her, there would be some serious problems brewing with that. Walk "Talk" Think

~*~ 'He left me,' the she wolf said. ah. Heartbreak then. As all-consuming as any mortal wound or creeping infection. As ready to rip a soul apart and wrack it with grief. Broken bones were easy things to fix when compared with such. Orica's ears tipped a little further, the crystal glass of her blue eyes fogged just a bit with memories. Trials and heartbreaks of her own. What she'd been pushed to. It made her more wary than before. Those that speak of the danger of cornered, wounded wolves know nothing of a she-wolf who's been scorned. Hell hath no fury, indeed. Driven to such pain, its easy for others to lash out. There's no end to their own suffering and they can become as touchy as rabid beasts. But it's pain at the center of it, isn't it? Pain and loss and fear; Fear of being nothing, of being left alone, of knowing naught but hurt for the rest of one's miserable days. The stuff of nightmares. At her first words, Orica had said nothing - only let a soft whine off into the night. "I"m sorry," said Orica. "You've been used wrongly, then?   At the growled statement that Orica could do as she as she liked (said in much the same tone as one would say "you can go to hell") the little fae paused. It could be the wind, but there was enough of the other wolf's hackles and spine fur raised that Orica didn't deem it wise to lay against her - even to offer warmth and companionship. It would be like offering such to a porcupine. Instead, given free rein, she nosed the flap off her knapsack and sniffed around for what she wanted. Ah. There. Carefully she nipped up the stems of dried mint plants found far to the south. Some of their virture would be lost, after being kept in such a cold climate, but they still had soothing, clearing qualities, for the nose, the stomach - and most important here - the mind. She brought them out and stuck them in the snow at the crying fae's feet. A few of the leaves had fallen off in her own mouth but she licked them up and swallowed them down. With strange wolves it always helped to show she wasn't trying to poison them. She gave no orders. Made no expectations, simply left her offering there and laid back where she'd been. ~*~