it HAPPENS (open)

[hecate]

The chill of winter nipped at Hecate's large paws, driving the femme from the wilderness she often called home. For all her wanderings, the thick-furred she-wolf would be the first to admit this was like nothing she had ever seen. Wolves trickled all around her, all sizes, colors and personalities, mixing and parting. She could imagine the square was usually more busy during the warmer seasons but this was busy enough for her particular taste. Hecate wasn't a fan of overly large groups, though she could tolerate them, and she had had quite enough of her own seclusion. Even she would admit to her own company becoming a bit trying after a while. Right now though, sitting at the very edge of the square, Hecate was beginning to wonder if this was just a bit much for her tolerance. In this new land, things were so odd, could she really live here?

Frowning slightly to herself, Hecate watched as a pretty little white wolfess trotted on by in the shadow of a big brown brute that Hecate couldn't help but think was ugly. Some girls found scars attractive but honestly, Hecate saw none of the appeal. All she saw was a wolf that got into too much trouble. Shaking her head at it, she cast her gaze around once again. A cluster of young whelps passed through the heart of the square, romping and playing as they walked, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. The scene brought a little smile back from the sturdy grey fae's frown.

Looking at herself, it was hard to tell where she would fit here, among the scarred up and over-sized brutes or among the delicate fems. Few would ever name Hecate as beautiful, a thing she had come to accept. She was a large fae, on the tallish side, full of thick fur and well muscled limbs. Her eyes were jewel bright or even an interesting shade, just muted amber-green-grey. Born, raised and conditioned in mountains, Hecate had to doubt if there was anything for her in this unusual land. She knew what a pack would want her to do if they chose her, they'd want her for a huntress. Hecate liked hunting alright but it wasn't a passion. It had been her father's passion. She was a decent tracker, always well aware of her surroundings. Was there somewhere for a femme like that? Hecate both hoped and doubted.

With a sigh, Hecate let her eyes close, blocking out all the rushing wolves and playing young ones. The noise, voices and pawsteps filtered into her keen ears making the grey-brown fae sigh. What was she doing here?

[»Ιmαgε]

P H R I N O

Warm, rushing currents were long gone, far from mixing among the spring greens, so far from the earlier, bright summer days. A golden coated male leaped soundlessly down from the center rock that the Zielles surveyed the masses from during the rushed hours, their keen eyes quick to reprehend a wolf that even touched a single toe out of line. [unfinished - sorry I ran out of time; tomorrow will grant more and a finished piece. <3]

[/size]