when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
The dust-colored wolf cannot hide the breathless grin that curls onto her black-lined lips; she didn’t care. Tussling with the young wolf stirs long lost memories - ones of her brother and parents - and even though the reflection of those memories are sad, it only brings about Dayé’s realization of her need for other shifters. Too long had she tried to be a lone hunter and survivor and a simple wrestling match is what it took for that realization to be had.
The white wolf follows her instructions and Dayé is patient; she remembers when she was just first learning her wolf skin, too. It is clumsy and awkward, but it is good. Dayé allows contact from beneath, the cold snout of the younger wolf pressing into her neck. “Good,” the older wolf encourages with a snap of her jaws, playfully biting at the air between them as they separate. With a huff, Dayé lowers herself to the ground, her forepaws outstretched before her and her hindlegs curled as she relaxes. “You are doing better than you think,” she tells her with a grin, “trust your instincts, always, but make sure you are listening to the right one.”
Dayé stretches a foreleg out to gently swat at the ivory and onyx wolf, attempting to tap her snout in play. Her brows prick curiously at the younger girl’s question, impressed that she is already thinking about other encounters she might have. Dayé’s face becomes somber for a moment, thoughtful and contemplative. “The jugular is where all life flows in all of us. Cutting off that flow, for any animal, means death.” Her coffee brown eyes deepen with something like concern, a soft snort leaving her black nostrils. “For you, too. So be careful.”
The rose-colored wolf stretches out fully, her claws scraping at the dirt. “What’s your name, little wolf?”
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
@[Mazikeen]