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It hurt, the likeness to Sitka, the memories just looking at this wizened old wolf brought up. Sitka was different, of course, but the old scent of canine, the thrill of being so near a predator (and yet not fearing for one's own safety), even just the fact that she was peering down to be at a similar level to the wolf, brought on the flood, the onslaught, the errant tornado of emotions and feelings. Cirrus had to wonder what the weather was doing outside even as she felt this way - she was too far undercover to see the skies for herself - ah, but then, her hide twisted and churned with the patterns of dark clouds in a most ominous way.
The cloudmare always knew what the weather was doing outside. And any who bothered to look at her pelt could wager a safe bet on it too.
Guttural, growling tones erupted from the maw of the great lupine, as the cloudmare accepts the investigating nostrils of the beast. A bit of pity shone through her gaze, as she realised the wound to his pride she must've caused in her sheer fearlessness - and yet, how could she honestly be afraid of something so old? With the knowledge she had of canines, the intimate knowledge, she knew not to take for granted the appearance of the beast, and yet -
How could she be afraid of one already half dead?
Probably the same way she was afraid of letting down the one already completely dead.
"I had a friend once, who was like you," her tones are strong and clear, to combat the waterfall that crashed nearby. Idly, she realised that she wasn't sure whether she was talking about her father, or her lost companion. "He taught me a great many things," she added, as she straightened her posture up and squared herself before the wolf. "I had hoped to learn something from you."
@Ranjiri
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
