She knows this market. She knows its blind spots, and she knows how to slip in as unnoticed as possible. Nose low to the ground, Hazel is tracking. She's tracking someone in specific, the only one she actually wants to see. In the midst of chaos, she'd returned to Boreas, somewhat begrudgingly. Still, she wouldn't let Sedna and Whisper make their return unprotected. There's news, and news that should only come from her. Halo was safe, stowed carefully under Warden's eye, with the protection of the Scowlie... but aging is a bitch.

It had been mere days since her return, though the quickest she'd been able to get north. With the tremors, the strange happenings, the bizarre goings on, travel was difficult. Hindered by the shifting beneath her paws and dangerous prey, and all the things in between. Still, little would keep her from finding Spider. She'd done much to fracture their relationship, and that's on her. The best she can do is own it and move on, apologize to the kid, and start her whole fucking life over.

Dodging where she had an inclination patrols might be, playing to the blind spots in the guard posts, Hazel would just bank on shit not changing. Moving through the market and keeping her head down, she steeled herself. An attempt to track Spider, and a hope to have the hard conversation, brings her to the edges of property where guests were allowed. A grey afternoon spreading high above her, Hazel is dully aware how thin a crowd there is. It leaves little for her to blend in with.

Hazel, The General

table coding by bunni ♥

The news of the infected prey and wolves had prompted the start of checkpoints in the Armada. Messy things for the moment as the pack sort to get itself organised amidst the chaos. There was talk of closing the market, but nothing definitive had happened yet. So Wylan still needed to do his duties, and today that running security in the Market. He was supposed to be assessing every wolf (by look) if they were infected, and trying not to disturb the business as it went on throughout the day. Or at least, disturb it as little as possible.

He was trying to get a look at every wolf that entered, and was moving among the crowd when one wolf in particular caught his eye. Wings pulled tightly against his side so he could not knock anything over, the young wolf hurried forward. “Hazel? Hazel, is that you?” he asked. She had been around most of his childhood. She was, in many ways, a sibling to him. Through their shared love of… he dismissed the thought before the name could surface. The worry and hurt there was struggling to dim.


"Wylan Fatalis"