Skill: Ranger x2 BWP, Howlentines Flame

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Mekh knew this place well enough that he felt comfortable scouting beyond the confines of Camhanaich's claim to search for... what were they again? Runes? The dream had shaken him to his core, the stranger's voice reverberating like the voice of a god heralding the end of the world. But it could be stopped. In whatever small way he could contribute, Mekh was determined to try.

Despite the heavy layer of snow and encroaching darkness muddling the view, he could still easily discern the major landmarks he had used to navigate during his time wandering alone and studiously scanned his surroundings for any sign of a faint blue sheen. He shivered; whether it was from the bitter cold or the memory of starvation, the very motion rattled his bones.

It wouldn't be remiss to assume he had a little trauma surrounding that period. As he prowled through the night on legs not at all suited for deep snow, laboriously trudging uphill and sliding downhill and cursing the air throughout, Mekh felt his teeth chattering as the edges of his ears began to lose sensation. But he was stronger than this. He would prove himself a worthy addition to Satriya's ranks, filthy as his heritage was, and maybe one day earn a position that would bring them pride - or at least not disdain.

Perhaps finding a Rune would be something of a sign for his future.

Mekh's teeth continued to clack together like a woodpecker in his skull. This was a terrible idea. But something pulled him this way, out toward the western slopes, and with hunched shoulders covered in a cloak of gathering snow, he followed his gut - or rather, the strange scent now permeating the air. it was getting stronger; sweeter. Even stranger was that the feeling had slowly begun to restore warmth to his frozen limbs bit by bit, the closer he drew to its source the greater the feeling spread throughout his thin frame. It was still bitterly cold, but this heat...

A pink glow flickered up ahead.

Was that the source?

Mekh shuffled closer.

Oh.

The warmth was between his legs now. Startled, he looked down, and with wide eyes he seemed almost afraid of his own arousal. He'd experienced it a few times before, but it was always something he had been trained to push back or ignore, being unworthy with his half-coyote parentage; he would never have the right to breed. Gritting his teeth he tried to force himself calm, but it felt like a losing battle.

Gods damn it all.

Runes.

Runes.

---

There were certain... benefits to spilling into this reality so unceremoniously, benefits of which he was discovering at an incredibly hurried pace. When everything is odd, nothing baffles you. It's simply the nature of things. When faced with facts, Auguste acted methodical. If this land—this world—manifested absurd pink fires at whim and allowed him a coat of fur and four paws to walk on, then, well, by fucking God anything could happen! Might as well. Why not?

For this reason, he didn't think nor care about the fissures. Yeah, he'd seen them. Yeah, he wasn't bothering with them.

For this reason, he slept more than he woke.

Maybe it was more than that; something deeper and saddened, but that, too, didn't matter.

By the time night fell, he'd rose with the crackle of stiff bones and an aching stomach. Auguste was growing familiar with the differences of aches, many the canine physique seemed inclined to, likes aches to run, to bark, to howl, to feast, yet the ache he felt now rung as familiar and primal. He knew it. He felt it on the air. That honeyed scent.

The fire.

Auguste would notice its pulsing glow in the distance, a beacon amongst the obsidian night. It'd be unbecoming of this land if that was all he noticed. A silhouette of slender stature, stark, emphasized by the snow. His nose twitched no better than a rabbit's might've. Whoever that was, they were unaware of him. Were they alright? He'd find out.

His footsteps broke crusting snow, his breaths fogged in the air, and his voice came out hoarse, "Is everything okay?" He questioned, tail waving timidly without his input. Auguste slowed his step as he approached, then his step stuttered and slammed him to a stop. Oh. "Oh!" All he needed was a mere glance at the tawny male's... equipment to read the room. "Shit! Sorry, I, uh, I didn't know you were busy, man, that's on me. My bad!"

Ingloriously, nervously, he turned to leave—

—and tripped over his own paws, landing face first in the snow.

Rune Discovery : 「 Failure 」 

---

Perhaps it is the distraction of the pink flame that tears you from your mission. Perhaps it is the distraction of the pink flame that makes you forget that you even had a mission at all. It seems to clog your mind, drowning out your sense of self and replacing it with warmth and tingling.

Despite the frigid cold, the pink flame greets you warmly, all of your sensations growing stronger as you and your newfound companion draw near. You feel suddenly very inclined to stay near the flame, for every step away from it seems to feel even more frigid than before. Besides, why would you want to leave this place?

Perhaps it is your arousal. Perhaps your embarrassment.

Either way, you are warm.

And you seem to be trapped here for a little while longer.

And there is not a rune to be seen.