[Flashback Thread] Nature's Guidance (Closed)

[Gromhir]

21st of Spring, 508 AV

The Wildlands were a dangerous place to survive in. Balcani, barbarians, bandits, Zith and many other savage beings could lay hidden behind every rock and tree. To traverse these harsh and hostile lands, one had to be aware of their surroundings at all times. Maybe it wasn’t the most dangerous place on Mizahar, but that meant little to you if you knew nothing else about the world. If the previous experiences in your life had barely taught you how to read and write, how to speak.

For one such creature, so far away from any place he could truly call home, this was true. At first glance, one would mistake the young creature for an average wolf only with eyes of deep blue and a pure white coat. But on closer inspection would could the true difference between an Ivaski and a Wolf, if they knew they were two separate beings. Paws large enough to propel the creature through water, longer legs and a larger body for a wolf of the same age. Even then, Gromhir was still larger than a regular Ivaski, though not by much.

The Wolf had been wandering the Wilderness for at least three seasons. He had seen the world around him die and be reborn again. The world was new and fresh to the young Kelvics eyes despite all this. The world around him was lush and green and while he loved the white of the phenomenon called winter, there was something enchanting about the vibrant colours that now surrounded him.

It occurred to him that it had been a few days since he’d last caught sight of his friend. Nature’s dancer, the one who moved through the woodlands as if they were open plains. He’d never caught her but he hadn’t seen her for a while now. Had she left him to favour someone else? Why would someone do that? She had helped him so much, if she left now, he would be lost.

The Kelvic pressed on in the direction he felt she went. His fur matted by twigs and mud around his legs and along his chest. Despite him being only a third of size he could be, he had taken down larger animals than he with the right guidance. Without his woodland watcher, he would have been dead long ago.

[Cayenne]

Spring.

Spring was beautiful.

While Morwen's white majesty cloaked and protected, bringing a new, intricate frozen beauty to bear on the dying foliage, new shoots always came through as the cold season gave way to Tivaku's court. Caiyha produced evermore life, fresh and new, flora and fauna alike, to replenish and regrow what had been lost.

His guide always walked, always ahead, always, often in sight. Where she stepped, plants grew. Where she touched with long fingers, shoots sprouted and bloomed. Sometimes he smelled other animals in her trails. Sometimes it was just the scent of nature in its full regalia, unsullied by civilization and those who trampled it to make their own foolish so-called improvements. Who could improve on Caiyha's work? Did the bird long for a cage when they had the skies? Did a horse wish for a stall when they had the open plains of grass? Did the dog wish for companions when he had pack-brothers and pack-sisters? What use had a cat for the occasional bowl of milk or old meat when there was vermin to hunt in the fields?

As he trotted through the slushy remnants of stubborn snow, he might have noticed some additional shoots that seemed to be leading in one area. The smell of spring, renewal. But Gromhir might have noticed something different about these shoots - that they were further along than the rest of spring all around him, and they seemed to be leading in a path, like something She had walked on, leading into the brush, surprisingly green with life. In the distance, he heard a wolf howl. Pack-sister!

She was walking, today. Perhaps by following the trail...

Perhaps he could catch her.

[Gromhir]

Gromhir was looking so hard for any sign of a trail that he almost missed it. Even with spring breaking into full swing, the last of the snows refused to go. But there, piercing the remnants of the white blanket that had covered the land were green limbs. Fledglings like himself but they grew defiant of the world around them, almost as if Nature herself was willing them to grow. The Kelvic’s blue eyes flashed. He would catch her today.

It was such a familiar scent. Nature in its raw form nothing more but there was nothing more beautiful, more welcoming to Gromhir. It was uncorrupted by the stench of humans and other races. It was pure. For the wandering nomad, unwittingly following in the steps of his ancestors, it was his home. The place he always longed to go back to until he found something more permanent, if he ever did.

His keen eyes caught the howl that carried through the air. It was in the direction he was heading. The young Ivaski burst into a run. Even for such a young creature, it was majestic and powerful as long legs covered the distance easily with the minimal of effort. He already knew he could run further in his form than he could ever run in his other form. The Kelvic darted through the forest in the direction of the howl

She had to be close. She knew he was coming. Could he catch her? He wasn’t sure if he could, he hadn’t yet. But that did not stop him from trying to. He would persist; surely she could not escape him forever? But what if she could? That wouldn’t stop him, it hadn’t stopped him. He wasn’t sure what he’d ask her if he did catch her. He wasn’t even sure what she’d do. But she had led him this far and he wouldn’t stop chasing her.