SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

Time was a transient, fleeting thing; Fable scrambled to hold onto any solitary moment, but they always scuttled by anyway, ambivalent to her desperation.

It did not help that the sky was always dark. Sometimes, it lightened - it gave her such hope when the deep, inky shades were diluted by the sun that surely lay beyond it, but it was always bluster. The sun never showed, and darkness prevailed. Timekeeping became a thing of counting sleeps, and she had done precious little of that since her mother fell ill, and even less once Aisling went missing.

Everything blended into what felt like an eon of torment, but also one very long, very exhausting day.

"Exhausting" was an insufficient word for what she felt.

A soul-deep tiredness dragged at Fable as she went through the motions. She presently trekked borders with a dissonance that suggested it was someone else's body rather than her own, and she was simply a silent observer viewing her actions from somewhere in the atmosphere, detached.

Her ears shifted toward the sound of a call at their borders and it took her a moment to place the owner of it - but once she did, a certain relief found her. She hadn't heard that voice in quite some time, but she was heartened to know another familiar being had survived whatever looming hell hung over them.

Fable abandoned her task and trotted in Raisa's direction after loosing a quick howl of response. When she finally drew upon the other woman, she came to a pause from a conversational distance with a smile spanned across her muzzle.

Raisa, it's been quite some time since we last saw one another, she said by way of greeting. Her tired sage eyes looked her over, a reflexive search for injuries that might have spurred the younger wolfdog to seek her or Avon out. She seemed to be the picture of health, glowing even. Have ye been well in all this time?

There was something oddly soothing about a simple conversation with someone outside of her circle. She didn't have to take in their sympathetic looks or brace for their well-meaning reminder that she needed to rest before she was useless to them all. Fable knew she needed to stop before she burnt out completely, but it didn't seem to register - she had to fix it all, or she could not rest.

It'd been a bit of a surprise when Raisa came to him one evening and spoke of an obligation given by Wardruna. Bogart reckoned it made a great deal of sense. Both from what he'd been told and what he'd witnessed himself throughout the weeks, she was a valuable member and quick as a whip, of course Raisa would be entrusted with a journey of this importance. He wouldn't deny being a little worried though.

Where Raisa focused on her duty to Northfall, Bogart's focus was on his duty to her.

She wasn't terribly far along yet but she was beginning to show, at least in the eyes of a man who spent so long learning her. He could even note the subtle shift in her scent which only furthered this drumming concern. He didn't believe anything would happen... but the idea that something might kept him on edge—kept him close.

For the most part.

Bogart wandered sometimes, mostly when she rested, always on the search for useful plants to aid her nausea or soothe rising aches. He tried hunting, too.

This wasn't as fruitful as his foraging.

As they were nearing this Kingdom he thought looked a lot like just another meadow, a hare's scent drew him from Raisa's side. Bogart didn't intend to hunt it yet but he followed it far enough to assess where their path might ought to steer. Once done, he eagerly retraced his steps to return to her, barking out a thrilled, "Found a good trail we can...track..." Bogart hadn't noticed the pale wolf initially and therefore grew bashful as he neared, tail wagging all friendly-like. "Sorry. Sorry." He said to Raisa first, then to the stranger with a soft smile as he settled down on his haunches.