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AW, set after BWP!

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Anger flooded, white-hot through juvenile veins as his body set to work doing what it knew best: destroying. It alighted within him a horrible sense of desire, for nothing quite made him feel more alive than this. Adrenaline pumping. The strain of his muscles. The pain as magical talons tore at the skin along his back. The near blinding euphoria as the beasts disappeared within his jaws.

He’d hardly noticed when the fight was over, as the blood pooled over his back and slithered through his ghostly white pelt. A chest would heave, exertion persisting despite the enemy being eliminated.

More, more, more.

But there was no more.

Not now.

And slowly, the light would fade, his body succumbing to the magical sleep as the distant screech of dying wraiths became his lullaby.

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He woke slowly, roused by the sharpness of the wounds on his back. Blood had caked across his skin, telling the story of the battle that he had fought. When he moved, the skin cracked, releasing a gentle flow of fresh blood from beneath the weak scab.

A small river flowed toward the layer of snow at his paws.

The long-lost light of the sun glittered overhead, but it did not warm him. The gradual creep of his apathy returned, his heart steadying to a more normal rhythm. An aching body would stir, eyes flickering open as the hangover of his adrenaline rush fully set in. After a few steadying breaths, the teen lifted, pulling himself back up to his full height as he glanced at the unfamiliar territory.

He did not recognize these mountains.  There were the gentle sounds of a nearby river. There was the soft coo of birds singing to the spring. This was not the darkness he knew — these were not the misted granite behemoths that housed the secrets of monsters.

In fact, this didn’t look like the land of monsters at all.

His broad face set back to neutrality, ears flicking backward atop his cranium as he fully pulled upward into a stand. And for a few moments, he … hesitated.

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mahina · exploration.

there was the scent of blood in the air. not the bright metallic scent, but something deep and musty; such a note upon the wind typically told a wolf of an easy meal, or something wounded ready to be taken down by capable fangs. mahina hoped it was something like that — something she could more than sink her teeth in to, but really work for. without any ties to bind her to any one place, she was unmoored by responsibility and for the soldier, that was the worst head-space to be in.

so she prowled, learning of this land as she went. it appeared as though spring had arrived as if overnight: she had made camp the previous evening among a copse of frozen trees and lichen, only to wake here without any sign of a deep-freeze. the sun was blazing overhead, the sky was clear; an expanse of permafrost carried as far as the horizon, with shoots of green all over the place as well as clusters of wildflowers.

it didn't make any sense — so she focused on movement, and that was when the blood hit her nose. it would serve as a good distraction to the growing confusion she harbored. or, it would have done this — had she not come upon the lazing figure of a white wolf, marred along their back with thick, dark cuts.

holy shit, she exclaimed — breaking the quiet in the stranger's hesitation pretty quickly. what the hell happened? her ire appeared to rise, but it was the soldier's sense of survival. if some creature with claws like that existed here, mahina wanted to make sure it had not lingered — but she would be utterly thrilled if it had! her focus was split between their surroundings and the young stranger.