VEUX

Fifty Two

June 12

The season of Summer intensified the further south they trekked.

Saoirse became dependent on the heavy shading of the forest leaves to cool her fur against the blazing sun, heat and humidity had her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. Still, she pushed onward with fresh rabbit in her stomach and minimal water from inconsistent streams. She trailed behind Obsidian's wolf as she let him lead the way; she had no idea which direction was the right one. He would pause occasionally as he listened to their nearby surroundings, sometimes waiting until the bears up ahead had moved on or completely deterring their route to go around wild moose.

As much as the silence picked at her, Saoirse's thoughts kept a steady pace with her paws. Most of the questions brewing on the tip of her tongue were silenced by the canines that enclosed them.

Where are we?

What are we doing?

How do you know?

Sometimes she would think up an answer herself, just to lessen the anxiety that had formed a pit in her stomach. She considered rogues, she considered running into the Mate-Killers now, and now, maybe later, or now.

The distress pushed her mind from growing hunger pains and aching, tiring limbs. She thought, that maybe, one night of silence would cure Obsidian's anger. That maybe, over time, it would dissipate and he would talk to her again. Maybe later, maybe now. Yet as the day drew on and miles were tacked onto their paws, no progress had been made other than distance.

Nearing sunset, Saoirse barked just lightly, just loud enough for Obsidian's attention. His head turned towards her as she stopped walking, shakily reeling back onto tired heels, but his wolf eyes only surveyed around her head and away. He had barely paused his own steps to do so, turning back to continue in silence as he assured Saoirse she was safe. He was one meter away, then two and three . . . Saoirse yipped again, slightly louder as her typical aggression grew.

She wanted him to stop, to look at her, to act like she was also on this journey. It was a lot to ask in their conditions, but not as much as him for her to stay.

Air-light steps made their way back to a sitting Saoirse, and she sat still with hesitancy and hope. A soft inhale as the fur of his head brushed over hers, almost mimicking the peace that only his touch could offer her. Especially as sharp canines jabbed into the fat skin of her scruff.

Saoirse shrunk under the unpleasant feeling of being pulled like a pup, she whimpered and dropped to dead weight as Obsidian tugged her neck again. Her wolf eyes tried to find his, head swinging back and forth in attempt to see him but she could not. She felt that he was being mean, treating her as so. She clearly did not want to continue.

Even as his piercing teeth left her hide, Saoirse did not take his actions as agreement. Instead her neck cowled back, as she daintily tried to look into his eyes under the shaded foliage. They met, for a second, but Obsidian was quick to move around again. His head dipped to her lap as she sat on haunches, smelling no blood to ooze from wounds of thorns. He listened to her heart as he pawed around her body, a faint, but consistent, beat of exhaustion pumped through his ears. His nose sniffed over her shoulders, down her back, around her rump and her ears. There was no torn skin, no broken bones . . . she was fine.

Just stubborn.

Saoirse closed her eyes when his thick tongue licked at her scruff. She was still hunched over sheepishly, exactly like a scorned child who would do it again. He licked gently at where he had bitten her, well, gotten ahold of her. He stood by her tiring body doing this for a few minutes or so, before dragging his snout along her cheek and pointing forwards several times. Then, he slowly pawed in his previous direction of onwards.