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Plagued, he was. Plagued and learning how to cope with trauma far too early in this life.

Less than a year old and already loss had become a friend to the family...every outcome had its consequence and it waited for no wolf to be ready. As it were, his brother was gone. His sister a witness. And he, Wood Rot, doomed to live eternally with regret.

Fen Mire was off taking "time to herself", which had become a daily ritual for the girl, sometimes required several times a day. It always left him predictably morose, worried, and stressed. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her. At first, after it became a recurring event he thought 'perhaps that was just what females did'. Now, he knew better.

She was just punishing him.

And it took every ounce of control to keep from confronting her. Control and shame, really, because every part of him wanted to be released from the guilt and yet he knew she, nor any force beyond her, would provide such relief. So instead he kept quiet, mostly to himself, and focused on survival.

Theirs. Together.

The sound of waves rising and roaring and crashing into one another carried on a breeze, shifting the thoughts that ailed him. The sea was also an old friend, and a friendly visage at that as his gaze swept across the tumult of waves; looking both in love and longingly. Yes, the sea threatened to swallow any who dared approach. Yes, the sea clashed and collided like bucks in heat. But it brought sound to the silence. It brought dynamism to the stillness. And it distracted him from the pain.

He paused on a high bank overlooking the water to breathe in deeply. Salt and moisture rushed to fill out his lungs and he retained the experience for as long as possible. Fresh, crisp air, capable of clearing out many things; just not everything. A strange echo faded in and out of the skull that rested on his head, while the wind jostled the world around him. And at his feet a dark brown pelt fell to which, without realizing it, he had shifted away from.

Off on the horizon Wood Rot could just make out the roiling of clouds. The darkness of a storm was coming. He had no idea where his sister was. He had killed his brother. How fitting.

...Smells and sounds and objects drifted in and disappeared out long before his senses could settle upon them. It gave way to some semblance of control, and an abstract impermanence found him where all of reality could not. He sat in that false sense of security quite comfortably, the taller-than-average male hunched over the bank and yet still rather imposing. His brother's pelt gathered at his back, the sea expanded out beyond his reach, and there were no fields for threats to ambush out of...

He was really good at this whole 'survival' thing.

But oh, how right you were Shallow Marsh of this incredibly naive boy.

In the same, slow building way that the world grew loud all around him, his head turned and his eyes met with those of another. As he willed his heavy form to react, the gap closed and...

Wood Rot somehow hoped and loathed that it might all come to the end he wished for.

He stumbled to his feet and moved out of the way, as far out as he could without taking a dive over the edge. '...No witnesses'... He would trip on the pelt pile in his effort to shift lanky limbs quickly, but somehow his footing would still hold true.

Moving, stumbling even, felt good. As if it affirmed his ability to do so, in direct comparison to the paralysis he had just endured, and it served to physically pull him out of his own head. In a more perfect world, Wood Rot would have let the ease of thought sit for a while, but he had no time to relish for the sight of another wolf was enough to tense every muscle in his form.

An intensity lie behind the mask he wore, a distrust that could not see the others potential playfulness... and yet... defeat was also there.

"What do you want?" Was his only reply, a stride long and slow closing over the dark, dirty brown pelt.

Wood Rot's green gaze fixed itself upon the other male with all the stubbornness a youth could possess. The initial response was to bristle, shocked into silence and looking on through the eye sockets of his stolen mask.

Adrenaline pumped throughout his form, peeking only to deafen him for several seconds while his vision tunneled...

Then, surprising even himself, an involuntary growl rumbled from his depths.



The other male demonstrated the tell-tale signs of ease and yet... Wood Rot could not find peace. Not yet. His head spun, fresh wounds breeching the surface once again, flooding his mind with the sight, the smell, and the name of... him. He shook his head once, sharply, and made a quick attempt to plant Fen Mire's visage instead but the vicious cycle would not quit. To rid him of such insanity, the tan male shook himself entirely this time with a violence that brought him almost to another stumble, before the gnashing of his teeth let slip a snarl.

While not entirely the friendliest of things to witness...It seemed to give him a moment of calm and clarity.

"Who... are... you?"

Words quaked with the weight of his own grief. His demeanor shifted beneath the bone to something of confusion, distrust, and betrayal. Was this some cosmic joke? Was Fen Mire not enough of a reminder?

...And the sea was at his back, beckoning him.