Erani

Deep blue eyes gazed into rushing dark water as the pale Theta gazed down into the river that coursed through Emerald Valley. Once again, she was the only Theta. Rayne?s body had been found, so close to the Borders of Valhalla. The scent that had lingered around the torn form of her friend and Craft Sister was easily recognizable. The grey male had attacked Rayne before, shattering the young female?s trust in the world. Rayne had informed Erani off to the side that the male had been present among the Glaciem wolves at the battle. His scent had been among them, Erani had noted as she?d picked through the torn ground the fighting had taken place upon. Two had died. A brown male that had been unfamiliar. His wounds told that he had been attacked, and hadn?t even had a chance to defend himself. Three enemy scents had been on his fur, and then a fourth scent, Morgan?s scent, had been light upon his fur. The male must have been the mate Morgan had found. The other death had been a Glaciem male, young, the same age as Azalea. Collision had dealt the death blow, though Sarak and Caerul had dealt blows as well. Valhalla had won Azalea back during the fray, but in turn. Cormalin had been lost. Bronze and Themisto, both Seracian wolves, had been taken prisoner as well. So many? The points of her canines glinted in the weak starlight as her jowls rose slightly, then fell again. Her daughters had been hurt. Chrysanthe had been blinded in one eye by Argent. And Surreal had fought bravely, and though she had lost her fight, she was taking it like a true warrior. She was going to be a fine Beta. But Erani yearned to be sure of her brother?s safety. To have him home and making his rounds. The wounded were stable, well protected in her den?s extensive chambers. Obsidian, Alsander, and Surreal were guarding, she was sure, despite her firm refusal to have them guarding and risking an attack that would further their injuries, especially Alsander?s leg. Erani had taken this time to be alone, while the ice of fury coursed through her veins. Her family had been hurt, her brother imprisoned. All for one wolf?s injured pride. Her fellow Theta was dead, torn apart by a monster. A tremor rippled the muscles in her shoulders, hackles lifting against the snow that fell around her, the stars above blacked out by a winter storm, as her head lowered, eyes closing against the grief that wanted to flow free. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

The man lingered near the borders of Valhalla, that once fruitful land weighing heavily upon his thought. Now the winter had taken away it's life, the valley he crossed only weeks ago was more barren than his last trespass. The snow icier. The air more bitter. And the scent of rotted blood pungent in that sterile air. Black water rushed silently beside him. The spirit of that familiar river tamed by the cold that possessed the valley. A storm caused the night to be dim yet his reflection was clear against the slow moving water. The man would stare upon it with speculation as if weighing his chances against some old rival before a dry chuckle would escape him in the form of white smoke.



There was movement not far from the man and it would stir him from his thoughts. His blue eyes almost as dark as the water but glowing clearly in the winter night. He recognized her immediately and in that moment realized that this was the same place they had met before, that this was place she visited often. And He recognized immediately that he did not desire interaction. So he would stand, still and rigid as a lifeless tree whose black form was half invisible in the night and half stark against the white snow. Watching the woman until her tremors so possessed her that the man feared she may die, alone in the frigid night. "Erani." he would speak, the qualities of his deep voice bold against the silence that threatened to smother them. His lean limbs would pull him forward, their bodies nearly touching as he positioned himself squarely against the wind, his black mane billowing with it's force, his stance ready to move above the woman should the storm begin to bury them with ice. It was alarming the softness Erani struck into the mans's heart. She was so much like Laxago. In such an expression of vulnerability he had been unable to hold himself back.

Erani

Snow swirled around her, tossing her fur hither and thither, buffeting her ears, so that when her name as called, it was a very long way off? Or was that the turmoil inside her own heart? The wind lessened slightly, though the howling only increased, whistling through fur. Her eyes opened, squinting against the wind, snowflakes blasting against her face and fur. A familiar scent brushed against her nose, as a black leg passed before her face. ?Deteste?? What on earth was the male doing here in a storm? When had the storm arrived? When? ?We lost?? The words, so simple, were enough, once spoken, to rip away the last layer of control. The rage slipped free of the leash. And yet, the only sign of that rage was something only an instinct of certain wolves would sense. Perhaps as a chilling sensation, or something completely frightening? With those in her family, it was a sense of a cold deeper than ice, so cold it burned. The males were sensitive to these moods, in Redwood and in her close family. When she spoke, thus, there was hardly a change to her voice, other than a flat, desolate chill. Perhaps he would sense that change, that step over the edge, perhaps he would not. Certainly, he would see the eerie still quality that came into her eyes, an almost glazed look, yet more alert somehow. By all accounts, she was not insane. She was as stable as any wolf, perhaps even more stable. But there is no rage worse than a female from Redwood, particularly one conditioned to lead. To harm the family and pack of such a female was to unleash that fury. Her main problem, was that she could not act on this fury, the instinct to defend and protect. So it was bottled down. ?They came, and tore into us when we only wanted peace. My family, torn apart. My sister torn to pieces by a killer just days later. My brother? Imprisoned? An innocent killed. One of our own raped, and carrying that? monster?s whelps. All? For that male?s wounded pride. The Blood Debt will be paid in full.? Was it just the Valhallan battle she was talking about? Or was it more than that? Was it her past, melding with the present? Wind whipped wildly around them, the eerie whistle of it hissing against her ears, nipping at the tips with biting cold. After her outburst, and the release of some of her anger, the look in her eyes calmed slightly, the glazed look warming, but only just. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

The man would recognize the distance that grew in those eyes and as hollowness consumed the woman no pity would be dredged from his hard heart. It was rage that set his veins afire and as meaningless chatter bubbled from the stunned woman's lips he would find he had neither patience to spare for her short sided perspective. And who wounded his pride, woman? his voice would roar against the static wind, the role of leader is to make difficult decisions and to throw away the livelihood of one's entire people for the sake of a manipulative young girl, whom is quite content with her new home, is foolish. his speech unwavering and alight with truth, We. Are. Old. Erani. not stayed by sorriness or the desire to please, Do not waste what is left on a causeless life. You may as well ask me to kill you now.



He would peer at her without emotion through the white smoke that had encased his facade in the presence of his hot breath. Unsure whether his words would wake her from her stupor or worsen it, the man would mutter a final word, come, before taking her by the loosest part of the neck and guiding her in the snowfall towards a wind-ward facing part of the valley where they would be sheltered from the bitter whip of it and perhaps dig a small nook in which to preserve their warmth and wait out the storm, in which she would have very much died in had she chosen to remain, wallowing in her grief.