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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    The rest of my pack, I've left them behind - Open
    #1
    I know my way through the night to your door...
    Summer suited her. It always had. Where in winter she had been cloaked in a woolly coat of blue mists, now she had become slim and sleek, the black of her face and legs fading to the near white of her trim torso. She was healthy and happy and in her element. Her nose in the warm air, she gazed out across the wild land. A wild land to match a wild woman. Wading through knee high grasses, she made her leisurely way through the Taiga. It had been her first stop after the field where she had met Keeper, Ryan and the enigmatic Caw. Now she was in a land with grassy expanses and quiet thickets. She was alone, like so many times before. It was how she always ended up, once the urge to be near others faded. Alone and at peace. 

    She took off at a run, simply because the mood took her. She gloried in her body, in the force of her legs against the vibrant earth. In the wind flowing in her lungs and pulling through her inky locks. She took joy from the sun, how it burned against her skin, a counterpoint to the cool breeze her body cut through with such ease. Gods, but it was a good day to be alive! The rugged landscape fell away beneath her feet, her heart driving a staccato tandem with her racing steps. 

    At last, she grew tired. A creek wound itself conveniently across her path, inviting her to drink from it's cheerful flow. Her pale flanks shone with frothing sweat, speckled along her dancer's legs. It was nothing to touch her lips to the bubbling water's surface, to draw it in deep swallows, feeling chill snowmelt hit her hot belly. It was a pure satisfaction that she felt, and she would not trade it for anything. 

    Having drunk her fill, she walked along the creek, through it. The gentle flow went above her fetlocks, colder than it looked. She hummed to herself, the tune only half remembered. Something about trees, and wolves howling at the moon...
    tickaani
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    The rest of my pack, I've left them behind - Open - by Tickaani - 12-04-2017, 12:37 AM



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