And So, An Adventure Begins

Two bodies of fur curled together in the warm dark haze. One was a standard shade of brown the whole way through, the other a soft shade of grey with a slightly lighter underbelly. These two bodies of fur moved and mixed and pressed against one another until they were nearly one and the same, two souls joined to each other in the darkness. A brown snout pressed firmly into a grey shoulder, covered in a strange black marking, and inhaled. Drinking in the scent, and a grey muzzle nuzzled deeply into a brown cheek as it did. Two tails curled around each other as hips pressed together. Now that grey snout was buried in a neck of brown fur as a brown snout pressed it's black nose into a vibrant tuft of teal fur running between two black ears. There was pain somewhere. But one soul wrapped itself tightly around the other and defied it from finding it's way in. Then finally, a faint voice would whisper into an ear. Soon. But you've still a task to finish. Now wake up, my love.

Slowly, the wolf opened his eyes to behold the mangrove he had nested in for the night. It was quiet. Still. Soft. Light hadn't yet started filling the world again. He'd awoken very early, and was immediately thankful for it. Closing his eyes for a few more moments, as the dream receded he held onto those last wisps of the scent that tickled at his nose, keeping the name on the tip of his tongue but never saying it aloud. The world didn't need to know. And for a moment, a big, warm, happy smile spread his normally controlled facade. Eventually the last tangible sensations would pass and he would let go. His eyes opened once again and with a groan, he rose to his feet and stretched, listening to his stiff bones pop back into place. The cold wasn't good. Dot didn't like the cold. If you were cold it just meant you needed to find someone to hold close for warmth. Taking one last look around at the beautiful glow of this mangrove he knew he needed to be gone else he be anchored by it's sway.

Pointing himself in the direction he needed to travel, he started walking. His thoughts were mostly of the past. The stories he'd hear from his mother growing up, and the look behind those green eyes of hers as she told them. The sounds of teeth and claw and snarling. Picking a stream, he started following along it's bank, heading west. He wondered to himself. How many wolves before him? How many had followed this path? What burdens did they carry? Did they find comfort and closure at the end? Or did their ghosts still walk shoulder to shoulder with him now looking for it? He hated that thought. But onward he went, wishing the ghosts the best of luck as he left them.

Eventually the Lover's Mangrove would end, the sun erupting over the horizon and sending glorious warm pinks and orange light across it as the last few stars fought valiantly in their loosing battle to stay in place. He found himself looking down a tunnel of weeping willows that stood between him and his goals. By now his body had warmed itself up enough that he could move without the stiffness in his joints that came with this unnatural fall. Lowering himself down to a crouch, he dragged a massive amount of air into his body through his nose, first filling up his stomach, before flooding his lungs with oxygen. He was young, fed, and healthy. He wanted to run. There was pent up energy inside him from a willingness to DO. His back claws dug into the cold soil and his toes splayed out as his vision narrowed, a look of calm determination settling onto his face as his ears folded. And all at once, he shot forward and began pelting through the forest, trying to outrun the dawn.

It was a valiant effort, but no wolf stood fast enough for the task. All through the morning he ran east, his goal in mind. Something burned in his heart, this notion that maybe he could make a difference in at least a few lives before his own ended. He pelted through the trees, bearing that look on his face like he believed in something. The muscles of his young body flexing and contracting as he thrust himself ever forward, puffs of steam trailing from his maw as he moved, the wind rippling through his fur as light and warmth, soaked back into the world after a long, hard, cruel night. Bringing with it relief from all the doubt and nightmares that Boreas had just witnessed in its absence. In that single notion, was Dot's entire resolve.

The Sun Always Rose Again.

No matter how dark the night before had become. It eventually was defeated. If only by the ticking of the clock. Eventually, the Weeping Willows gave way, and he found himself standing at a treeline looking out over a massive expanse of tall, brown grass. He come to a stop and took a moment to settle his breathing as he looked out across the expanse. The sun was up and well on it's way by now. He guessed it was not quite midday, but getting there, by this point. He was making good time. He was in the South now. He'd fled the East where he'd come to settle and was once again on course. Trotting the field's edge, he eventually found a game trail through the grass, it had seen years of use by the look of it. That would be his way through this field. Down that, he began walking. He would take him straight to the Alabaster Shrine, which he didn't know about, nor the pack that called it home, and would have to find his way around it. But Everything in due time.