Audi, Vide, Tace [Thistle]

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] That's one thing that I suppose will always be different between us. I could never stay, even if I had to live as an outcast. “Maybe,” Dagonet nodded once, not particularly surprised to hear her say it; he’d expected something along those lines from someone like her anyway, “but what good could I do anyone as an oath-breaker and a persecuted outcast? If nothing else, I can step in front of Dragunov when everyone else fears to,” the soldier rolled his shoulders slowly to limber his stiffening muscles as he watched the world outside their small shelter begin to clear, “I might not change much in the end, but I damn sure wont help anyone by running and having myself hunted down like some mangy cur.” Even if he did not entirely agree with the future that The Order intended to bring on the island, Dagonet just could not justify running. Only cowards ran from this sort of situation. If he did that, he would be labeled as a deserter, hunted mercilessly, his good name besmirched; and when your name was really all you had in life…well it wasn’t something to be parted with easily. But it was not fear that kept him loyal to Dragunov and his fellows in The Order, not by far. It was easy to turn tail when the situation became precarious; it was much harder to stand ones ground, admitting fault and choosing to correct it as best one could. What do you say we get out of this death trap? No sooner had she asked than did another lump of snow fall through the creaking branches of the pine, landing solidly on Dagonet’s neck and shoulders. As the cold flakes sank into his fur, the soldier nodded his agreement and rose, slipping past Idris’ bulky figure and out into the open where he could shake himself without covering her in what debris was shaken free. Snow flakes, small shards of ice, and dirty water flew in a sheet from his coat when he finally paused to give himself a powerful shake. With the excess weight gone, his coat fluffed outward in wet spikes; and already he could feel them beginning to stiffen and freeze again. He would certainly be glad to get back into lower elevations, no doubt about that.

[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] "If nothing else, I can step in front of Dragunov when everyone else fears to." Her pupils dilated to their former size as she looked away from the bright gaps of sunlight in the tree's branches, thoughtfully considering Dagonet. Would he actually do something like that? She watched him rolling his shoulders, the scar on his chest shifting on the skin above twisting muscles, and felt briefly as if she was looking at a scarred and mangled tree. He was still surviving--he would go on surviving for a long time--but something wrong had happened. Possibly, yes, he would. But it would take a lot to tear up those stubborn roots. “I might not change much in the end, but I damn sure wont help anyone by running and having myself hunted down like some mangy cur.” Idris thought: "You could stop making it worse, at least," but said nothing, only watched him in silence as he quietly exited, figure seeming to become reduced as it met the bright, vast snow scape outside. She waited until he'd shaken himself off, then stepped out behind him, drawing up to the side. The cold wind hit the halfway melted snow on her pelt and began freezing the tips again. She squinted at the sky once more, then looked down into the valley, at the hazy brown lands that lay before them. Her gaze rested once more on the gray-tipped solider of Dragunov's ranks, standing stolidly in the snow, as if he could stand just as comfortably in a field of flowers. The world outside seemed to impact him very little. Had they been in the same pack, they probably would have been fighting comrades. As it was, if she saw him again, it would probably be in combat, on opposite sides. "I hope not to see you in battle," she said, finally. "Thrive as best you can, Dagonet of Sarmacja." And with that, she turned away, walking slowly but steadily down the broad path. The snow was nearly midway up her legs, but she plowed forward, shoulders burning slightly with the effort, onwards to the places where it got thinner on the ground, where the earth showed through, and where she could finally rest alone for a while.

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] As quickly as the black storm clouds had rolled in over the mountains they began to disperse, parting and dissipating to allow thin beams of golden sunlight to spill over the slopes. Shadows fled against the light, and the frigid temperatures were swayed by the warming rays, and now that the penetrating winds had ceased it was almost bearable. Dagonet exhaled slowly, tail swaying once as he gazed over the mountain range and the glistening peaks gilded a pale shade of gold by the fresh light. His breath clouded into the cold air, hovering for mere moments before it vanished . Flexing his muscles to loosen them from the tension of prolonged inactivity, Dagonet’s gaze turned homeward towards The Order’s lands. From this height, he could see the vast territory rambling on, and beyond that the immense, rolling sea that had expelled him near their outskirts. Perfect it may not have been, but it was still home; and the scarred warrior did not (and never would) regret it for even so much as a moment. He was a stranger to the lands of Traum, unlike Idris, who Dagonet gathered had lived their all her life; she had become entangled in the politics of the war that would soon sweep over all of the island, whereas he himself was merely a merchant of death cast into the mix by some strange twist of fate and choice. After having traveled vast expanses of the world, having seen more than many of the islands inhabitants would ever dream of, Traum was just another turmoil-stricken land to the warrior. Nothing worth dying for. I hope not to see you in battle, the Warrior female unexpectedly broke the silence, and Dagonet glanced back over his shoulder, catching one last glimpse of her before she turned away, Thrive as best you can, Dagonet of Sarmacja. Though Idris’ back was already turned to him, Dagonet bowed his head in a rare gesture of respect, “You as well,” he spoke softly, holding his head low until the words left his mouth; then turned silently to make the solitary journey down the mountain.