New lands. Unsettling dreams.

But Radovan is no stranger to dreams; and in spite of the cold dread that clawed at his throat the moment he awoke from it, it's at least different from the same nightmare he's entertained for years. This raw, sinking fear is a welcoming reprieve from all the guilt, from all the ghosts that are familiar.

It is the unyielding darkness that causes him more alarm.

Clouds smother every corner of the sky, shrouding the carnelian wisterias in a veil of gray and black. The darkness that seeps into the land screams of night and yet, by the heavy throbbing in his head and the itching behind his ears, he's certain it's close to midday. It is by no means as jarring a revelation as it is going to sleep in one world and waking up in another, but it echoes a fleeting sentiment spoken in Stardust's voice:

Maybe we are dead.

Or, simply, they're not dead yet. But they will be.

A small shudder creeps down his spine. He shoves the thought away, continuing his jaunt through the woodlands as if he's on some sort of quest. There is urgency in his pace where there shouldn't be; his paws are hurried and clumsy, tripping over roots and snapping twigs. Sending bird and doe alike into flight.

For now, something is pulling him north. Instinct, intuition, whatever he wants to call it—it compels him toward the tunnel, whose yawning, gaping maw waits in bating silence.

Birdsong drifted through the air.

Plumeria blinked awake from whatever half‑dream she’d been floating in, her limbs humming with that travelled-too-far ache - especially in her hind legs.

Had she really wandered this far? And on her own?

Hard to say.

She lifted her head, taking in the drooping vines above her - looked like a willow, old and weathered, its bark split from winter’s first sharp breath.

Winter.

She knew that season well. Too well.

With a slow yawn, jaws stretching wide, she shifted her weight but stayed belly‑down against the cold earth for a moment longer. Then - there it was. A scent.

Timber. Freshly felled.

Male.

Plumeria rose, shaking out her coat, stretching each limb until they felt like her own again.

Curiosity tugged at her, warm and familiar.

So she followed the scent, steady and sure, trusting the path even if she didn’t yet know where it led.

That was simply her way.

Radovan

The wind feels colder than it should.

Radovan has never been an expert in the weather, but any old wolf can tell when the air is different. Unnatural. He finds himself shuddering down to the very bone, and loosing curses under-breath with every step he takes further north. His oxymoronic promenade toward an even colder climate seems impulsive at best (a death wish at worst), but the something that stirs his paws into action does not yet have a name.

In the past, he would have preferred caution to curiosity.

But now, what else does he have left to lose?

He ducks into the mouth of the tunnel, at first thinking that it will be his shelter for the afternoon. That his body is simply tired and his mind has yet to catch up. But as he slips past the threshold a cold wind bellows through from deep within, so strong it nearly knocks him off his feet. A disjointed, echoey whistling whirs through the impossibly dark cavern, hinting that air moves freely throughout the cave. No matter how hard he squints, however, he cannot see past where the soft silvery glow of the cloud-cover outside fizzles out into impenetrable shadow.

Just as he reconsiders the sense of staying in such a drafty place, he hears the gentle pattering of footfalls just behind him. Radovan practically whirls, but Plumeria is still a good enough distance away that he doesn't quite bristle. If she was intending an ambush, then she wasn't very good at it.

And considering the way she carries herself–with the saturnine grace he's seen only a few wolves capable of–he doubts she's anything the opportunistic ne'er-do-well.

Curious place, isn't it? he asks, and even he isn't sure whether he's referring to the whistling tunnel, or the cloud-smothered sky, or the entire steeped-cold countryside. Do you know anything about it?

As she padded closer, Plumeria caught the flicker of movement ahead - shadows shifting, something nearby. Nothing felt threatening, nothing sharp or wrong in the air… and yet here she was, nosing forward like some curious cat instead of the sensible creature she claimed to be.

A sudden gust pushed through her pelt, rough and cold. She didn’t flinch, only stiffened, ears pricking as the thought crept in that maybe - just maybe - something stood behind her. She didn’t dare look. Not yet.

Her gaze instead found a pair of eyes ahead. A man’s. Though it was hard to tell his colours in these strange tunnels, everything appeared muted and unfamiliar. Still, she lifted a brow and drifted toward him, reading the gentleness in his stare, the caution tucked just behind it.

He spoke, but she didn’t slow. Instead she brushed her side along his as she slipped past, a deliberate little gesture, steady and sure.

I suppose so, she answered, tongue clicking softly as she shuffled ahead of him. This place… it’s all new to me. Most of these lands are. I can’t even remember how I ended up here.

Her thoughts spiralled, trying to catch hold of something - anything - but seemed everything blurred.. Had she hit her head? Surely she’d feel it. Surely there’d be pain, a throb, a sting.

But there was nothing.

Radovan

Warmth accompanies her. Like a shroud of unrelenting sunlight, she steps into the mouth of the tunnel and the tunnel seems brighter for it. The smell of vanilla and honey wafts through the entrance, pressing against the yoke of the bitter and cold wind at his back. She saunters closer, and closer—and Radovan's feet do not stir from beneath him even as she presses past him. The kiss of her fur against his happens for just a moment, but the spark it leaves behind is warm and new and wrong.

“I suppose so,” she answers, just as Radovan is still trying to catch his breath. “This place… it’s all new to me. Most of these lands are. I can’t even remember how I ended up here.”

He considers her down the length of his nose, his initial bewilderment softening into understanding.

Then, he follows after her.

Just woke up here one day, right? he states, more than he asks. Instead of rushing up to her side, he lets the distance yawn between them—gracious, comfortable. And yet, I have a feeling we've only begun to scratch the surface of otherworldly.

Everything about this place feels wrong, but his body has long since stopped trying to fight it. Instead, he feels as if the strange air is no longer burning his lungs; that the energy coursing through the wind no longer makes the back of his teeth ache.

His head, meanwhile, still has some catching up to do.

He pauses, canting his ears in her direction. Name's Radovan.

Plumeria slows, just enough for her paws to graze over the stone ground instead of tapping against it. The warmth that clings to her doesn’t fade – but she ignores it all the same. At the sound of his name, she glances back over her shoulder, eyes soft, brighter now.

Radovan, she repeats, Strong name. It suits you.

Her tail gives a loose, easy sway. She doesn’t push, doesn’t crowd – but she stays.

And yes, she adds, turning forward again. One moment I was somewhere else… and the next, here. It was strange really...

She pads on, unhurried, trusting the tunnel to open where it needs to. The air still feels strange, but she breathes it in anyway.

You’re right, though, she murmurs, ears flicking as if she can hear something he can’t. We’ve barely scrapped the edge of whatever this place is. But it doesn’t feel… cruel. At least… I don’t think.

She glances back again, offering him a small, reassuring smile, its warm, maybe even a little mischievous.

Plumeria, she says simply. Or Merri, whatever's easier for you,

A moment of silence, and that soft chuff of her own laughter.

So.... where are you headed in this… strange world?

Radovan