Post by Vixen on Sept 20, 2014 6:24:34 GMT -5
The former shaman had been wandering aimlessly through the loner lands for quite some time, mourning the loss of yet another pack that she had been a part of. It seemed that all packs she joined were destined to fall – whether beset by some great calamity, or anti-climatically disbanded out of inactivity.
What was worse was that everyone she had ever known had fallen with them; she had no idea if any of the wolves she knew were still out there somewhere, somehow surviving, or whether they had long ago passed away. In fact, today Vixen couldn’t say she knew a single soul on this massive island – the island where she had spent the full three and a half years of her life.
For the millionth time this year, Vixen ‘s life story replayed itself in her head, as her poor brain tried to figure out where she was going wrong or how she could possibly have such bad luck. Haishin had been the pack she was born into, followed by Isata, then Ryala, which had been converted into Tassos before Tassos too had fallen apart. No matter how she looked at it, there didn’t seem to be any links between these packs’ demises – the reason for their disappearance was totally incomprehensible for the young femme.
If it were her choice, she would never join another pack, to prevent the same thing from happening all over again, but the truth was there was no way she could continue to survive alone. Life as a loner was not treating her well, and offered her nothing to distract from the depressing thoughts plaguing her mind. That was why she was currently standing at the entrance to the subterranean territory of Aleru, home to the Ultoris pack. They seemed to have a good reputation in the area; though a small pack, she had heard that they were highly skilled wolves who worked as a team, both qualities which Vixen admired. And who knew? Perhaps all of the other packs’ failures had been destiny’s way of bringing her to Ultoris – the pack where she truly belonged. Vixen hoped with all her heart that that was the case, and hoped that she would not turn out to be a curse once more.
It was perhaps a selfish thought to think that she, a scrawny limp-legged runt, could somehow affect the fate of entire packs – she knew there was really nothing to her poor pack history but unhappy coincidence – and yet Vixen lingered for an eternity at the border before she eventually managed to summon up the courage to call out to the alpha. Her voice was thin and high, betraying her somewhat weakened state, but clear enough to show that she was not about to fall dead on her feet or cause an inconvenience for the alpha. Once her howl had shakily finished, Vixen settled down on her rump and nervously awaited the interview which would hopefully bring her into her last pack – a pack which would finally give her the permanent home she had been searching for.
What was worse was that everyone she had ever known had fallen with them; she had no idea if any of the wolves she knew were still out there somewhere, somehow surviving, or whether they had long ago passed away. In fact, today Vixen couldn’t say she knew a single soul on this massive island – the island where she had spent the full three and a half years of her life.
For the millionth time this year, Vixen ‘s life story replayed itself in her head, as her poor brain tried to figure out where she was going wrong or how she could possibly have such bad luck. Haishin had been the pack she was born into, followed by Isata, then Ryala, which had been converted into Tassos before Tassos too had fallen apart. No matter how she looked at it, there didn’t seem to be any links between these packs’ demises – the reason for their disappearance was totally incomprehensible for the young femme.
If it were her choice, she would never join another pack, to prevent the same thing from happening all over again, but the truth was there was no way she could continue to survive alone. Life as a loner was not treating her well, and offered her nothing to distract from the depressing thoughts plaguing her mind. That was why she was currently standing at the entrance to the subterranean territory of Aleru, home to the Ultoris pack. They seemed to have a good reputation in the area; though a small pack, she had heard that they were highly skilled wolves who worked as a team, both qualities which Vixen admired. And who knew? Perhaps all of the other packs’ failures had been destiny’s way of bringing her to Ultoris – the pack where she truly belonged. Vixen hoped with all her heart that that was the case, and hoped that she would not turn out to be a curse once more.
It was perhaps a selfish thought to think that she, a scrawny limp-legged runt, could somehow affect the fate of entire packs – she knew there was really nothing to her poor pack history but unhappy coincidence – and yet Vixen lingered for an eternity at the border before she eventually managed to summon up the courage to call out to the alpha. Her voice was thin and high, betraying her somewhat weakened state, but clear enough to show that she was not about to fall dead on her feet or cause an inconvenience for the alpha. Once her howl had shakily finished, Vixen settled down on her rump and nervously awaited the interview which would hopefully bring her into her last pack – a pack which would finally give her the permanent home she had been searching for.