CW: Death by starvation.

Skill:—[0/5]
Isadora

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Citlali had slumbered in a soft silence. Enwrapped in the embrace of unfeeling, not even the gaping hole that was her stomach. Quetzalli—Ma, had gone, Itzcoatl ran after her. Pa had died. Ashkii disappeared; Naira insisted that he left, a coward. But Citlali knew he wouldn't do such a thing.

Alas, whether his action was inadvertently done or not, the effects still lingered. Naira was only so strong. She could only bring back so much prey, and instinct could not resist eating most of it—otherwise, she would starve herself.

Citlali was content. To be not a parasite.

It was nightfall when the last breath was drawn.

Yet, it wasn't; Cloudy blue eyes rose, a pale pink nose twitched at the realization that the world had shifted around her. Birdsong reverberated in a way that it could only do so in a woodland. She was no longer in that small ditch, carved into a prairie, resting with her sister. This was somewhere else, entirely.

The scent of flora permeated between the trees, reaching Citlali, ever confusing. ...Naira, the soft voice rose, Naira. ¿Dónde estamos (where are we)?

Naira was absent, wasn't she?

Disappointment weighed the blind wolf's body back down, her chin resting once again against her pale paw. She always thought she'd at least be able to see in the afterlife.

Endless vision of pristine snow began to thaw, the further south she traveled. Snowbanks transitioned into earth lush with the kiss of spring, barren pines gave way to fuller and budding oak. The birds here in the woodlands sang a different toon. Lighter, even, and melodic. It was dense but it felt like home.

And now, as life blossomed in the woodlands, it was easier to survive. She still hadn't the faintest idea of how to hunt big game, and frankly she wouldn't try. But rabbits and squirrels sprang and danced about, darting from hollow to bush. Her attempts to catch one were...laughable, at best.

But she had no one to dote on her now. No worshippers to lay meals at her feet, no one to pamper her. Isadora knew that if she wouldn't attempt to survive on her own, and she would perish.

Her life, which was supposed to be snuffed by the ones she used to call kin, would not have mattered. And the god her soul was supposed to be offered to would finally get her blood, her bones, her life.

Persevering was hard. It was exhausting. There were many times she felt like giving up and letting the wilds claim her.

And still, she pushed on. Chased and chased those rabbits until her legs ached and her lungs burned. They evaded her time and time again—too fast, too flighty. It was during her final attempt, where she wound up with nothing but fur between her teeth and stuck to her tongue, that a soft voice in the distance made her startle.

A girls voice, calling out for someone. Isadora's ears pinned with caution, and for a moment she wondered if she should keep moving. But there was a sadness in that voice...a helplessness that resonated. It tugged at the string of her tender heart.

She is nothing, if not easy to fall to the softness of her heart.

What she finds in a pale woman lounging within the lush grass. Isa's approach is slow, her head lowered and tail tucked. Praying the girl wouldn't spook. That she would recognize Isadora was hardly a threat.

Hello? Are you...are you alright?

Skill:—[0/5]

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Citlali could smell her, hear her, before the stranger spoke—yet, even then, her body jolted when the soft voice was heard. 'Hello? Are you...are you alright?' The wolfdog's head canted downward. Not quite, unfortunately, she responded softly. I'm unsure of where I am. She shifted, coiling her tail slightly closer to herself.

This wolf could very much be a threat—yet, the sweet lilt of her tone said otherwise. Despite it all, Citlali offered a small smile. I am Citlali. Are you a native here? The frail-bodied canine shifted yet again, lying more erect, more alert. Are you willing to help me?

Her blush nose twitched. A lot to ask of someone, especially a stranger. To help Citlali wasn't a simple lean on the shoulder.

Yet, to ask for help was just about the only thing she could do by this point—it was that or starving to death. A sigh left her lips. It was a burden that Citi could only pray that this stranger would be able to bear.

Isa meets that frail smile with one of her own, though it's quick to fall. They're both lost, it seems. I am not. I'm afraid I'm just as lost as you are, she laments. She's been lost ever since she left the coven, and her travels have been nothing if not aimless. I just came from the North. Familiarizing myself here is, well...I'm trying. Words spoken with a sheepish admittance, before she moves closer.

It is then Isadora can see the haziness in the girls eyes. The way they aren't fixed on her as they typically should be. There's another helpless tug on her heart; the woman is blind. There's guilt then, for feeling helpless when this woman is far less fortunate.

I am Isadora. I'd be honored to help you. She was hardly able, but...she felt determined. Perhaps together they could find their paths. And perhaps now, she would find some shred of purpose to her life that felt false.

The woman's sides are sunken in. Gaunt enough for the ridges of her ribs to be visible. You must be starving, Isa frowns with worry. I could try and catch you something to eat, yes?

They will both need their strength if they were to journey through this maze of woodlands.

Skill: Hunter [1/5]

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Was it sheer luck that the woman presenting herself was so kind, or was it fate? Who knew. Citlali let out a soft breath. There's no need for concern, she reassured. It's only natural for one to get lost when the world is simply so large. She did not grin, for she did not know to—yet, her words harbored a kindness that was far more conspicuous than a mere smile.

In truth, Citlali hadn't realized how much hunger had gripped her body until Isadora had mentioned it—now, she winced with a small frown. I...yes, I am a bit hungry. She laughed softly, her ear tilted back in what she could only feel was awkwardness. Please, if it's isn't too much trouble. The wolfdog rose onto her feet, gingerly prodding at the uneven ground. The empty expanse of plains where she'd hailed from was no trouble to navigate—this was... quite different.

Her pale nose snuffled over the ground—perhaps one of the few things she was exceptionally good at. Every fibre on every plant, every path crossed by a stranger; none could hide from her sense of smell.

She tilted an ear back towards Isadora, ready to heed any direction from the other woman. I smell prey, Citlali mused. But only small ones. Hares. Mice. Voles... She raised her head. And other travellers have passed through here. Her lips pursed in thought.