miles to go. [OPEN]

[zaria]

Zaria sighed and pushed herself to a standing position. Her gray pelt making her a flag and completely obvious in a world of trees, bushes, leaves and rocks. The forest floor was littered with the dead branches of trees and the fallen leaves that had yet to become unrecognizable among the dirt under it. Her shaggy coat had kept some of the leaves she's just been resting on but the female wolf didn't mind or even seem to notice as she began walking again, her ears open to all sounds the forest made and any that might be made by another living creature and not the forest. She was hungry, and on her guard. She didn't belong here. Not in this land not in this area. Even if it was free and no one ruled over it she was an outsider from this world.

She'd come from being shamed by her old pack. Trying to take the alpha female position and having herself beat down and left to lick her wounds by the pack. She could have gone back, could've slunk in with her tail between her legs and her head down but she refused. She'd instead walked away from the only pack she'd known, from the pack she'd been born into and raised up in, from the pack she'd earned the respect of until that day, until that fight. She couldn't go back, couldn't face that kind of shame like other had. She was too proud, to determined, and now she was too alone.

Heaving a great sigh she jumped from the ground onto a bolder and scrambled over it, nails scratching on the rock and her coat slipping over it easily until she stood atop it, staring out over the land before her. For as far as she could see she was alone, it was almost depressing. She missed her old pack but not enough to turn around and go home now. She'd find a new home, a new life, she'd be just fine. As if to commit herself to the thought she took a step forwards, and then another. Placing one paw in front of the other and walking away from the life she'd known for so long, walking away from the annoyance of having lost in front of those she'd once had the respect of.

Once she'd had a family and a home and now she had nothing. She wasn't sure she was excited about that as she trotted though the forest but she'd make the best of it, after all she was the best of her litter, the strongest, the fastest, the most dominate. Zaria had no doubt she could do anything she set her mind to, including survive on her own. Or at least not die a shameful death.

[{chay}.«]

DONE.

There was a palpably wretched despondency to the limping gait of the yearling mutt as he stalked steadily forward, hind left kept well off the ground. A wince tore across his features with every pounding throb but his head was kept low, eyes murky with pain. The fur, typically a sallow orange, had been stained a lucid vermillion that darkened considerably around the ring of perforated lacerations that the hock and lower limb bore; from the punctured holes ran jagged abrasions that ended just shy of his toes. It would be clear to any onlooker than he was in a state of acute pain, though his outward display of this physical torment was limited only to the occasional growl of pain whenever the leg was forced to bear his weight and the hiss of exasperation that swiftly followed suit. He was still uncertain of the nature of the beast that had ravaged his appendage; it was quite obviously nothing nature had concocted and the usual foul play of the humans was suspected. Though no evidence had been discovered that they still existed for more than a decade, their bizarre architectural monuments and typical waste remained- though the pup had no real indication, it had been a metal-toothed cony trap that had fastened itself to his flesh. The cracking sound of the snare as it leapt up from beneath its leaf camouflage still rang fresh in his mind and he grimaced once more the noise resounded within his mind, oversized ears pinning against his skull.

He was quite the small thing, and it seemed from first glance that he had suffered far past what was due. From his gaunt cheekbones to his thin tail, he was the epitome of emaciation: his hipbones were sharply angled beneath a lackluster coat, and his ribs were grating against the thin skin of his chest and abdomen. Where muscles should be strung thickly only hung the vertebrae of spine, spindly notches that met protruding shoulder blades; he had a wholly cadaverous appearance, and it was not one he bore well. The blood had begun to congeal and crust over, though this attempt at a natural sealant cracked open each time the paw flexed. Perhaps, if he was pure wolf, he would have a better handle on his pain- but any blind idiot could discern that the slope of his back and his awkward coloration did not come from blue lupine blood. No, there was quite obviously dog mixed in- german shepherd, to be exact. It was from this lineage that he was given his strange saddled back and his diminutive size, though massive paws told of the bulk he would grow into if he made it through this second year.

His small, blunt muzzle was near dragging the ground, jowls unhinged and tongue hanging limply, testifying to his dehydration, hunger, and distress, though the eyes gleamed with a sharpness that was usually unseen- despite his apathy, the last thing he wanted to do was make contact with another rusted trap. His sides rose and fell with shallow, labored breaths- he had been traveling for nearly a week and was running on naught but marrow from discarded rabbit bones and several grasshoppers- and with a hacking cough, slowed to a stop. He was silent as he stood, injured limb held carefully outward from the rest of his skeletal frame and his head still low, ears drooping on either side. Pricks of pain induced saliva with each swallow, for his throat was so parched that it was becoming difficult to make even the most guttural of noises and these ever-present stings were enough to raise the bile from his throat.

It took him a moment to register the fact that a mirror image of himself was glaring back at him, and then he inhaled sharply, pulling himself back up and hobbling at a desperate pace towards the puddle. He knelt, tongue darting to greedily lap up the dirty liquid in a swift, frenzied action. As the liquid trickled down his throat, his eyes closed wearily, but he continued until the feeling in his stomach was uncomfortable and the water's level had shallowed considerably. It was only then that he looked up, something large and white catching his eye, and saw ivory she-wolf, standing atop the rock with such poise that he immediately felt far more inferior than normal. Dropping his gaze, the youth shuffled backwards, wincing once more as the wounded limb was forced to extend and stretch."S-sorry." he mumbled, curling his tail between his hocks.