02-20-2017, 01:55 AM
we’re on each other’s team…
There was a whisper of desperation in the air. A rocky unknowing, as if everything they had worked for was suddenly slipping away—
Reagan is running. Her paws cling to the foliage at her feet as she quickly brushes past them, the scent of the hunt intoxicating her mind. She longed for blood, and she would get it.
Such was the way of the magician these days. Forever in the background, allowing Ruan to take the foreground. He was the diplomat—the leader. She was merely the protector and she allowed him his room.
The last time she’d seen him, the last time they’d been together—oh, that tumultuous time. He had looked at her with those eyes cold eyes of his, and had merely walked away from her, seeking solace in their children, and in the trees they called home. No longer was her embrace welcomed by him. No longer did they share a den—and these night time hunts—
They were no more.
Estranged, yet together.
For their children—for the forest.
The white wolf continues to run, her green eyes glowing as the tears of memory drain down her face.
She was the magician, and the care taker of this forest. Forever alone.
She waited for the day that he would recognize his own power within himself, and come back to her, but as yet, it had not happened. And so Reagan has slipped into a life by night, allowing the day walkers their peace, and granting them their petition to the sun. She is with them, and yet she is separate—as is tradition of the nocturnal.
Reagan is drunk on the smell of her meal, focused entirely on eeking a living out here in the wilderness.
Alone.
The only place she has ever belonged.
The only home she has ever had.