She wasn't lost, no, but perhaps on a walk beyond the castle walls. Simply that, but perhaps she had taken a wrong turn and if she just retraced her steps.. Her body halted for a moment, nose tipping up as if she’d be able to smell anything through the gooseberry coating her nose and cheeks with a deep oozing red that made her look quite ridiculous. If she had known truly how bad this was, panic would be creasing through her veins. The summit of a mountain crashing down and causing panic among the masses but all in one girl. One light coily haired girl that had not a way out of a trench of snow. Eventually though, that snow faded and blossomed into meadows and forests that spanned for what seemed like years - but time had little meaning to the awkward looking girl. Yesterday, the last time the sun rose and fell. Yesterday, not the last time but the day before - where a owl met her gaze from a lower hanging branch in the middle of the day.

Unsettling, her eyes tightened for a moment as her neck slowly rose, unsure if the speed was to keep herself calm or the creature itself from flying off. “I know you are watching me..” and its set with a tinge of annoyance, sharp off of the side of her tongues as if the spit that muzzled her prior to a meal. Her ears fold back into her too-large-for-her-body head as the dark feathered great horned owl watches her with no response, as if she expected it to respond, or grow bored with her dull behavior but it did nothing but stare. ”Always watching..” a huff, more of a shimmie of her neck as her lips press thin and she begins to walk straight at it, though below, she does not give it another glance until a few miles down the wooded boulevard did she hear it screech and settle on another low hanging branch but she did not stop this time, perhaps a hidden smile crept her face and a collected trot began to shuffle her faster, until the large collection of air beneath feathers hit her ears and she realized that perhaps, just perhaps it wasn't too bad knowing at least someone..Someone was watching her, and that made the travels through the thicket forest become easier, softer to settle and relax even with the damnation lingering on her lips - a finger stroking across the wind-chapped and soft flush stolen.

Even in spring the Northern territories were too cold by far. His unusually thick coat insulating his warmth, the old Warlord made his way into the woods. He wouldn’t have come at all if Lia hadn’t needed a guide into the cooler territories in search of some rarer herbs. The woman had wondered a short distance away from the Warlord. Nosing about in the underbrush, as he settled in to watch the woods. His keen blue gaze moving through the trees. Noting the direction of the wind, and the sounds and scents it carried.

Occasionally, he raised his head to it, tasting it with an open maw. Searching for any scent of anything admiss. He was not long healed himself, and was weary of any taking advantage of the small healer under his watch.

It was some time later that he heard the sound of crunching under paw, and movement through the trees. He rose his full height, lips lightly rolled back from elongated fangs. “Who goes there?”

"Sirius Fatalis"

"I know you are following me..which means you can think" It's a plea from quiet lips as a staring contest emerges from the silence. She watches the owl with some sort of ideology that it can indeed speak, and she would swear in that moment she saw the shimmer of those wide eyes. The confirmation, perhaps amusement, from that great horned owl that had been following her for miles now, from swinging tree branch to tree branch. a shutter more than a breath sags her thin, too thin, shoulders in mere defeat as suddenly the large owl takes off with a woosh of its wings, almost as if to show off its wingspan and almost in response, her ears falling back once more as if envious of its ability to fly.

Her nose would had wrinkled for a split second, as if a little kid making a face to its mother as if a warning to the tantrum that would follow like progression of a storm. Just as it came, it went, as quickly her mind carried on and her nose was sent to investigate the base of a tree which roots looked like fingers of the dead trying to emerge from the ground. She intentionally came over looking for what they called dead mans root..which was nothing but chewy root that felt good on her gums. Her old home carried a graveyard that prayers were said to keep them in the ground, for if they didnt then all-mighty would raise them out of pity..and no dead man wanted to live again. She remembers the berries smothered across her face by the spit of the elders, a "gift", he was claim with the dry rotten smell emerging from his teeth as if his tongue was rotting from the lies he told every mother and their daughter. She hated him, she had decided just as a snotty nose child. Nobody liked to be spit on, and if they did..well they were lying she had decided.

Inexperienced, child-like. Those words send the fur atop her spine raised up as her head rose and it hit her all at once. Her tail shuttled low as she spots the older man, perhaps 10 or so yards away but that was far too close for her. Had they sent someone after her? Is that why the Owl had been following her..and then left? How long did she have her face in the dirt like some bone chewing, dirt digging puppy? "Me." Her lips usher out, quiet, but surely loud enough to be heard as she steps away from the base of the tree as if it a hideaway, a curtain in which she changed but there was little to change about a runaway. "What do you want?" One ear tilts backwards, as if to question where in the hell that large owl had went off to. Maybe this older man was looking for a meal..and for whatever reason wanted to put the energy into chasing a massive bird with all of these..massive trees. Maybe not...

‘Me’ The voice sounded young, like it came from the throat of a child. His looming height allowed him to sweep the floor with gaze and find her. She was young, and small. With some growing left to do. She was a light, dappled creature with golden eyes and a willowey form. Young enough that he had to wonder if she had stumbled away from pack or family.

He raised his head, mouth ajar, and sampled the wind. He did not catch the scent of any pack he recognised from her coat. “From you? Nothing, little one.” he said, eyeing her for a moment longer. Then turned his head over his shoulder, eys seeking his healer, and finding her. She had stopped her foraging and raised her head, moving to approach. Likely to see who the Warlord was speaking to.

"Sirius Fatalis"

Finding herbs for the strange illness that has swept through the land was no small feat. it wasn’t long before she had worked her way through her small stores, and was sorely in need of more. She would have asked Briar, her Mistress to accompany her, of course. But Sirius had sought her out, and she had to admit, cautious and quietly, that she did not have what he was looking for. The Warlord was a man of motion, and like a whirlwind, the next thing she knew he was asking her what climates she needed for her herbs, and was escorting her from the packs.

They had made their way to the mile-high woods, and she had quickly began her work, foraging for herbs in the undergrowth. She felt very aware of the Alpha-Warlords presence, and was intimidated by the large, gruff wolf that had swept her here.

With a bag stuffed full of bulbs, seeds, and herbs, she felt this venture was something of a success, however. She was just digging a root free of the earth when Sirius spoke. She lifted her own head, cautious and weary. She would never forget how others had preyed on her when she had been alone. Slinking into the Warlord shadow, it wasn’t long until she realised he was speaking to a child. “Oh, hello there. I’m Lia, and this is Warlord Sirius.” she cast him a look from the corner of her eye. “He looks big and tough, but he’s a big softie, I promise” she said. Avoiding so much as glancing towards the towering wolf after that statement.

"Speech"

Part of her wanted to be offended, and it showed, the way her nose wrinkled just momentarily as he spoke - it quickly left her face as another strolled up and began talking. How many people knew she was here..and how long? Her nose tilted down, a dancer playing off exhaustion as a transition piece. "Mhm.." it was softly spoken towards the girl of similar age and a knapsack of goodies, where her curious eyes dwelled on for a moment before back to the pair who appeared to be traveling together. It was not meant to be rude or standoffish, but simply an acknowledgement of them speaking and perhaps hinting at her own inability to put together further words - a what do you want? for she was far to prideful to admit she needed anything but the peace and quiet for herself. She licked her lips as her mouth began to open, eyes dismissive out of habit before finding this warlord up-front. "I'm Essie" It was very matter of fact, as if she had practiced it time and time again, and she had. Childish declarations, on her walk she had practiced it time and time again instead of her formal full - As she began to question them both, who, what, why, whens..there was a sudden shift of air and a familiar face that landed in one of the overhead branches that shifted atop of them. It distracted her, catching her eye for a very brief moment but she did not mention it, instead looking slowly back to Sirus and addressing him so. "Am I in your gardens?" a hesitant question, the twitch of her brow and fidget of her fingers embracing the panic slowly consuming her.

Sirius raised a brow as the small healer called him a ‘softie’ he had rescued her from slavers, but there was more to it than that. Deciding not to contradict her, he let her speak. At the least, she had managed to tease a name from the young stranger. There was the soft sound of feathers, and a branch creaking beneath the weight of a bird. He didn’t bother glancing, he didn’t so much as twitch. So accustomed to Marshal settling into branches above him. If it wasn’t Marshal, he knew his companion would be keeping an aerial eye on him regardless.

“These lands belong to no one, Essie. My healer has been gathering what she needs from this land. We will be heading back soon. Are you lost? I know these lands well, if you would like me to lead you back somewhere.” He didn’t feel quite right leaving young girl out in herself with the way the world was these days.

- Skip Lia, just imagine she's standing quietly by the Warlord -

"Sirius Fatalis"

These specific lands, or just in general? Free-living, no bishops or elders, no men and women bickering at the smallest thing. She adjusted her awkward, aching joints as she looked beyond his shoulder for just a moment, a chill catching her for a brief moment as if a sign to stop pestering the world - to stop pestering and praying. "Somewhere to stay the night..an abandoned den or something." She had no destination, no train ticket to rub anxiously between her fingers that occasionally rubbed the cross of her collarbones as if to give herself a break from her own anxious tidbits. I am sheltered - she wanted to say but whoevers god would have send her to dead mans land without a second thought even if most of her evenings were spent on her knees -
to kiss his feet
to kiss his feet
to kiss his feet -
a blessing