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+--- Thread: AW Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. (/showthread.php?tid=13125)
Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Ghenaya - 8/6/2026
The snow had thinned in places, replaced by a denser, darker green that pressed close on either side of the narrow game trails. The woodland did not open the way the alpine had; it closed in, heavy with the scent of damp earth, rotting leaves, and the faint metallic tang of running water somewhere below the canopy.
Starling moved through it the same way she had moved through everything else—low, deliberate, one careful step after another. Her coat had grown thicker with the season, the lead-black now dusted at the edges with the pale gray of old frost. The white star on her forehead was still bright against the darker fur, a clean mark that caught what little light filtered down through the pines and birches.
She had not spoken to another wolf since the white one who left the fish. The memory of that meal sat in her the way Torvak’s stories used to: useful, but distant. She had not sought company. She had not needed to. The woodlands offered enough—voles in the leaf litter, the occasional hare that broke cover too late, berries that left her tongue stained but her stomach quieter than it had been on the open tundra.
Still, the restlessness remained.
It was quieter here, but not empty. Scents crossed and recrossed the trails: old wolf, new wolf, the musk of something larger that had passed days before.
She paused at the edge of a shallow stream, watching the water move over dark stones. Her reflection looked back—glacial eyes, the star, the lean lines of a yearling who had learned to keep moving. She drank, then lifted her head and tasted the air again.
Somewhere ahead, the forest opened into a broader stand of older trees. The wind carried the faint sound of wings and the softer, wetter smell of deeper soil. No voices. No laughter. No sharp commands.
Starling stepped forward, leaving the stream behind. Her paws made almost no sound on the moss. She did not hurry. She did not look back.
The Great Woodlands stretched around her, vast and indifferent, and for the first time in a long while the girl who had been called Starling felt the quiet certainty that she could remain alone here if she chose.
Or not.
The choice, at least, was still hers.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Sitjariaq - 8/6/2026
It seemed like only yesterday that the pup had come to these lands. Now appearing nearly full grown, the white and black mottled wolf was starting to look more and more like an adult. Though without a large amount of muscle mass, he was still tall and becoming a little heavier boned. However he still remained lanky in the limbs, making him appear rather awkward at first. What hadn't changed for Sitjariaq was the lack of being vocal. A trait that seemed to stick with him ever since he was taken away from his parents into this world.
Per usual, it bothered him not even in the slightest. For he was comfortable in a world of silence, cherishing a moment's peace as he wandered off into the thicker parts of the forest without the watchful eyes of his pack. Growing a little more independent as the days were going on, it was becoming more and more clear that he was meant to be a wanderer at heart.
Sitjariaq had continued his explorations, following a shallow stream that was flowing through the forest. But before he had made his way too far down, the sight of another wolf, a bit older then him, made him stop in his tracks. Instead the young wolf simply watched with quiet curiosity, olive eyes wondering what they were doing here all by themselves. Though he didn't grow too much concern, for in the end, it wasn't entirely his business.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Ghenaya - 8/6/2026
Starling’s ears had already turned toward the soft break in the stream’s rhythm before her head followed.
She did not startle. The forest had been full of crossing scents for days; another living wolf was only the latest of them. Still, she shifted her weight so that her body angled slightly away, keeping the stranger in the edge of her vision while her paws remained planted on the damp moss.
He was tall, mottled white and black, with a lanky frame that had not yet settled into its full weight. Olive eyes watched her with the same careful quiet she herself preferred. No challenge in the set of his shoulders. No invitation either. Just the steady, measuring look of someone who had chosen silence the same way she had.
Starling held the distance without effort. She studied him a moment longer, then offered the smallest acknowledgment: a slow blink and the faintest dip of her muzzle. Not a greeting, not quite dismissal. Simply the recognition that neither of them had chosen to fill the air with noise.
The stranger carried scents on his coat—layered and settled, the kind that came from shared dens and regular company. She was not surprised. Wolves who belonged somewhere always did. He looked soft. Rounder through the ribs and flanks than the sharp, angular lines she had just seen reflected in the water. There was a fullness to him that spoke of steady meals and the quiet security of being looked after. Signs of care she lacked.
If she held any fear in this encounter, she did not show it.
She moved back a half-step, soundless. As if to invite him closer, if a drink was all he was after.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Sitjariaq - 8/6/2026
The yearling had spotted him without any difficulty, not that it surprised him. Instead Sitjariaq continued to watch her with a curious gaze, wondering what kind of thoughts lied in her mind. An ear flicked at her movement, a sense of wonder taking over at the prospect of meeting someone like him. A soul that also found solace in the silence of the world.
She moved slightly back, keeping her eyes on him. What he perceived to be an open invitation. Carefully the boy made a near effortless pace towards her, though still keeping some distance between them. Now residing near her position, yet closer to the water's edge, he bent down to take a drink. The sound of falling water from his lips was the only thing to break the calming silence.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Ghenaya - 8/6/2026
When had she last spoken to another of her kind? She thought of the woman with the fish. Had she spoken, then? She could not remember. Hunger pinged in her belly at the thought of meat, and she licked her lips; however, Starling did not leave the water's edge or seek a way to remedy her empty stomach. Instead, as she watched the pale stranger carefully, she saw them dip towards the water and take their drink.
A flash of temptation told her to grab them. Maybe to hold them under the water. She moved slightly closer, in her quiet way - but rather than fall victim to her dark thoughts, Starling studied the many scents collected there among the stranger's coat.
She was quick at this. Carefully leaning as near as she dared, without touching, and taking quick little breaths. No, she didn't know any of those scents - but she counted them, best she could. A lady's scent, a man's, meat-smell, some she could not identify but would assume they were related to the forest.
At the slightest movement of the stranger, Starling would already be withdrawing. She placed more distance between them and appeared to sulk closer to the shadows, of which there were many here. She tasted the wind, as if to pinpoint where this boy had come from - for a purpose she did not share.
Hunting and fishing took a lot of effort, she had learned. Whever this boy had come from, she knew there would be plenty of meat - if she could figure out the way.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Sitjariaq - 8/6/2026
As Sitjariaq indulged himself in the cooling water, he could feel the presence of the young woman standing near him. Feel her breath on his fur as she took in his scents. A foreboding sense of alarm ran over him in that moment, realizing how vulnerable he was to a wolf that was much older and wiser. And from the looks of it, more feral. As soon as he moved again, making some space, she slunk back into the shadows.
Her ice toned gaze staring out at him from the depths of her shadowy sanctuary. Still he said nothing, much like he had done with every other wolf he had met thus far. Words were not needed in his case, nor did he find it comfortable to speak. So when his black tipped ears caught the sound of her growling stomach, Sitjariaq motioned for her to follow him. Food was certainly close by.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Ghenaya - 8/6/2026
They locked eyes for only a moment. To Starling it felt like a long moment. She refused to break eye-contact, and was pleased when the stranger moved first; he appeared unbothered by her presence, and even inviting with his body language. Skeptical as she was, Starling stayed in the dark as he turned to guide her - and then she slunk after him.
Ears pivoted to every sound. The branches of the too-close trees scraped against bark. The wind busied itself with the tree tops, and the air appeared to sigh deeply, shuddering through the space overhead. Far-off, a branch came loose and crackled as it fell through the boughs to the forest floor; Starling turned her attention that way, wondering, but there was only quiet after. Plus, the boy did not seem bothered either.
She took her cues from the boy, to a degree. Spry strides kept her close but not too close, and her senses were on high alert in case of a double-cross. Starling kept an eye out for points of egress, if she should need to flee - and of course, she trailed after the boy like a shadow.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Sitjariaq - 8/6/2026
To the boy's surprise, the girl had chosen to follow him from a safe distance. Soft ears could hear the nearly phantom like paws coming behind him as they moved together through the trees. Overhead, rain began to fall very faintly, a slight trickle. As if to add some kind of grounding natural ambience to their short journey. A black nose guided him to a small cache of food he had stored on his own, a hole burred underneath some rocks and foliage.
Olive eyes turned to face her as he came to a slow stop. Sitjariaq moved the stones aside, grabbing out a rabbit that he had learned to catch thanks to his newly adopted father figure. Soft lips grabbed a hold of it, adolescent teeth nipping against the fur as he carried it out. Then scooted it to his shadow as a way of thanks for not immediately trying to eat him. Though he wondered if she would actually take it.
RE: Darling, I think you can make the devil cry. - Ghenaya - 8/6/2026
Did she mean to bully him for it? The thought crossed her mind as he came to a halt, and when he began to dig the scent of wet earth gave way to old meat; the urge to press close emerged, but Starling refused to do it. She lingered at the distance she had placed herself as she had followed - and then he stepped aside, and she saw the limp figure of the rabbit.
As soon as she saw a clear straight-away to the rabbit's carcass, she was moving. Her legs were longer than his, appearing sharper because of her lack of meat on the bone, and in no time at all she's standing over the rabbit and tearing in to it. The meat comes apart with ease; it tasted mostly fresh, but to be truthful Starling swallowed hasty chunks, and barely tasted it.
One ear remained trained upon the boy, and as she ate she watched him with fleeting glances. When all that was left were a pair of mealy looking ears, Starling tried to chew at them before losing interest, and launched at the newly-dug hole where the rabbit had come from.
She was more interested in that little pit, in case there was more to be found. Snuffling in the dirt, clawing at it, tasting the air with snake-like flicks of her tongue - but no, there was no more.