Pennyroyal was not meant to be a hero. He didn't enjoy the thrill of adventure, the helplessness of being away from his pack and family, the assumed danger of his task, the pressure of doing it correctly and quickly. He'd dragged Verbena into this, too, but another part of him felt bad he hadn't roused the others properly -- were his Ma and Pa doing okay, had they worried much? He knew his Dad was a good enough tracker to have caught up to them by now, so perhaps he trusted Benny to keep them both safe while they followed the High Priestess' bidding.

Maybe they thought the kids had gone after Uncle Spider to stay with Avon.

Penny missed Pinesprings the most.

He did not miss dodging Nemean's daily lessons, though he was certainly wishing he'd grasped more of them. He was reliant entirely on his littermate to hunt and protect them both, to steer them back home when the time came. He was reminded day after day how thankful he was she'd heard his scrambled goodbye and followed after his manic persistence.
The forest(s) had been neat, but otherwise uneventful, but Penny did decide he liked the closed in, safe feeling of being concealed within the treeline compared to the open, vulnerable one he got in large meadows. He felt like he was a prey animal instead of a wolf, like his brain was stuck in the flight part of fight-or-flight.

Always.

Those feelings were quickly replaced with something Pennyroyal couldn't identify as he trotted out into the range; ears pinning, tail rising above his hips for the first time ever in his life, muzzle wrinkling into a scowl. It wasn't proper confidence, but as his manic pace continued, he felt...

Cold.

Barbed.

Sharp around edges he didn't have.

The almost-yearling swallowed, heartbeat thrumming in his temples as he fought for slow, deep breaths. Was it the dark? The quiet? Penny was intimate with fear, and this was far from it -- as if he was daring something to try even though he was fully aware he couldn't fight a mouse.

His pace increased to a run.

Self Control:

Rolling 1d20: 12
Success

There was something about this area that unsettled her.

She was no stranger to the violent thoughts that tried to close in, the whispers saying Pennyroyal was holding them all back, the weakness within the boy a rot to be cleared.

Verbena hated it, and the longer they were in this area the worse it was becoming. Was it just because they've been away from home for so long? Was it because the burden of taking care of the runt was all on her shoulders?

Houtu, grant her strength. She needs to pray, they need to find a place to settle for the night, to drink and eat.

But she has heard no animals.

But the waters run red.

This area wasn't safe, they needed to-- aannnnd there he goes again. Ever the stoic shadow, Verbena trotted quietly after her brother, the stars her only light as he led them...where exactly? So far, they've found nothing.

Rune Discovery : 「 pending success」 

---

Rage the size of Mythris herself simmered, boiling over into the waters and the creatures until everything was red. The thoughts, the blood pounding within you, the oppression of the sounds of life. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it is the world itself, simmering at its core for every unjust death, at the greed, the pride, the envy, THE WRATH -

It is enough to rattle sane thoughts from your head, to take the emotions away that served other purposes. There was no need for logic. There is no place for joy or love. There is only fury.

Did you possess the strength to fight against such intensity? Could you stand against the madness? Could you push past it to find the secrets that screamed to be found? The moon itself had run away, possessing enough self-preservation to seek peace elsewhere. Without the softness of it's guiding rays, it is harder to make out the lingering structures of the farmstead. It is not impossible, however - the most lasting building perhaps the one with the most bloody of histories. The processing shed where animals lost their lives to beasts more wild than they were, there is almost a thrumming, pulsing feeling from it.

Do you seek to uncover what might be hidden?

Penny could feel his heart thundering in his chest, like it knew he walked with false confidence, like it knew he was moments from danger -- always. He hadn't noticed the eerie silence of the area, though the crimson cast of the water made him uncomfortable. Something, somewhere deep, realized that things weren't right; unease intensifying as they moved further into the range. His pelt prickled at the way the shadows seemed all too large and all too small at the same time, suffocating and vulnerable. He led the way into the darkness, blind, an suddenly even the occasional sapling here and there looked like some weapon or enemy. His hackles began to prickle one strand of fur at a time, footfalls heavy, breaths heaving slowly as he fought for control of his senses.

He snapped out at a bush as he trotted past it, ripping off the twiggy branch and whipping it back and forth before letting it fling away. The leaves stung his mouth as they whipped through, the ones that ripped on his teeth were bitter, and the sensation left him unsatisfied. Not good enough. What was it he sought?

Pennyroyal felt like he was vibrating, and with each shudder of his muscles, he grew warmer. The red haze grew thicker. Was that real, or was it what clouded his mind so?

He felt his self-control trickling away like water down a hill, unsure what happened when the lake ran dry, but following the pull all the same. He felt more than saw his destination, obeyed the summons and headed for the foreign structure with a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. Such a noise had never left Penny, but he seemed unphased himself, picking up into a run.
He flung himself at the side of the flat, wooden box without thought, jaws widening into a snarl. He slid down the edge, anger spiking, and ducked around a corner to check another side, find a way in.

A yawning hole in the wall summoned him, and without ever glancing back to check on Verbena, he lunged for the opening.

Whatever was here, he needed to find it.

---

Self Control:

Rolling 1d20: 17
Success

The wrath, the rage, it was unending.

The burning in her throat, her jaws clenching and unclenching, salivating.

The yearning, to rip and tear until she was the only thing standing, to feel the warm blood fill her mouth....she was getting vivid visions. Wolves underneath her, throats torn open, the press of bodies around her as her pack moved as one to the slaughter. These were not pelts Verbena knew, these were not things Verbena knew, visons from whatever has been sending Pennyroyal on his manic journey? Maybe? Hopefully?

She could feel the pulse in the air, the heartbeat of Mythris.

She wanted it in her teeth.

Verbena trotted after her brother, jaws parted, her lips peeling from her teeth.

And then she was smacked in the face with a branch, the action startling her enough to get a grip back on reality, the task at hand. The growl that came from the golden boy was so strange, so unexpected, so out of character, it was enough to ground her fully as the thrum surrounded her heart. Whatever this was, it was enough to set the coward off, whatever this was, she needed to get them out of here as soon as possible.

But that meant getting closer to the source, the one that was drawing Penny in.

So, his shadow was right behind him, as he threw himself into the building.

Rune Discovery : 「Success!」

---

You hear the creak of old, rotted wood that barely hangs on by tarnished metal hinges. Even as you enter the building, it feels as if you’re being watched through the darkness. The white-hot heat of anger and the chills of being someone’s prey intermingle as only the sound of your racing heart and labored breathing can be heard.

A blood curdling shriek rings out from the farmstead outback, the call of an elk being mauled by whatever soul had fallen victim to this unrelenting wrath. While it catches your attention for a moment, you’re drawn back to your surroundings as an unnatural pull guides you to a dust covered corner. Your body moves without instruction, as if it knew what to do, inspecting the area until spotting a seemingly out-of-place object: a weathered, stone tablet.

Unique symbols are carved into the stone’s face; some long, some winding and complicated, some curving in a peculiar fashion. A message, you think, but you cannot make out what it is that the stone tablet says. Even worse, it appears that this tablet has been cracked in half. You stare at those jagged lines, compelled to give it an unusual sniff as a scent of sulfur and ash greets your senses. Your body wishes to recoil, but something inside you tells you to watch.

During your inspection, the runes atop that cryptic piece of stone seem to vibrate, pulsing an intense, bright blue. An unearthly hum radiating like chimes sound off within your head. You cannot stop the mumbling voices that seem to scream inside your mind. You cannot make out what they want, what they are saying, or what they know.

A voice speaks out over the rest.

Laba rune, (A rune,) the Dream Visitor  whispers weakly.. Kien utar sikir kin tsakal… (But its sister still sleeps…)

As you fight the demons that now lurk inside your brain, you receive a vision of another stone tablet, just as jagged as the one you stare at with words that complete the one at your feet.

The other tablet must be found, once each is discovered, you have a haunting sense that something will happen.

Perhaps it is best to escape the infected area and the clamoring voices calling out within your mind.

Penny shoved his way through the arch of the door with reckless abandon, and inside, the feeling of being prey only intensified into a fine point; a blade, sharp beneath his chin. His breaths came quickly now, heart racing as fury and terror coalesced into one horrid, gut-wrenching, suffocating ache. And all he had to do to quell it was find the rune. Thats what he was here for, right?

Or was something else calling him, something less benign?

A scream echoed outside, and Penny's only reaction was another gut-deep snarl. Some deep-seated instinct to turn and give chase bubbled unto his throat, and the idea of sinking his teeth into something alive for the first time ever nearly turned him back.

Nearly.

Perhaps, had it really been his decision -- but it didn't really feel like it was, not anymore. But finally, after what felt like weeks, months of searching.... the glow of blue. He didn't even know why it was a good thing, but it set off a small whisper of euphoria. Wait, no -- that was a voice, one louder than the others.
But it wasn't really a positive. Not really. He'd been searching; he'd walked away from his pack, his family, he'd walked his pads raw and dragged his sister out here to take care of him, and it hadn't been enough.

Finding one had seemed impossible. How was he supposed to find its sister?

The ginger boy roared an ugly, vicious sound and turned to rush back outside, teeth gnashing, intent on going to see what had made that gods-awful noise and if he could still rip it apart himself.

He forgot he wasn't alone.