Cry of the Living Cross

[Ärï]

The image of a slender femmora materialized from the darkness. As the deep blood-colored femmora moved, her fur glinted bright scarlet in the moonlight. Deep emerald pools looked through the darkness with a sad expression lingering in her fathomless pools. It seemed like the sadness and sorrow of the world could be seen through her eyes. It was likely too. Cross's life so far, though it ranged only two years, had been living hell. Wolves scorned her as a demon for the ebony cross the adorned her wine-colored chest. Now she roamed the moonlit forest all alone.

At last she came to a small clearing where moonlight pooled in the heart of the clearing where no trees blocked the stream. Cross paused at the edge of the undergrowth. No one else was around yet she was still wary. After a few moments of hesitation, Cross padded into the heart of the clearing. Laying down in the grass, Cross rolled onto her back to stare at the stars and once again try to find a reason for her miserable existance.

[Sivoncé™]

A single, cold, dying cry rose in the distance. Nightshade shivered as she recognized the message. It was the loner known as Lucinda, signaling the death of someone highly respected. Whoever it was, Nightshade hoped to Lupus it wasn't a pack wolf. They needed all the help they could get...

Nightshade raised her head, violet eyes flashing with regret and hopelessness. Good wolves were dying like flies. When would this all end?

[Ärï]

Cross sensed another wolf coming. Instantly the young femme rolled onto her belly and looked around, head up and ears pricked. Dark emerald orbs scanned the darkness. She breathed in. It smelled like a pack wolf from one of the borders she had passed on her way to this place. Her heart leapt into her throat, not with hope but dread. Quickly Cross looked down. The ebony cross on her chest was half hidden. Maybe the other wolf wouldn't notice? "Who's there?" Cross barked, tensed and wound as tight as a clock spring.

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade whirled around, suprised to see another wolf. She hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings; she'd been so absorbed in her thoughts of her dead lover and child...

"Nightshade of Silver Mist. I mean you no harm," she barked quietly. She could tell it was a loner fae who had called to her, but that was about it. She look a bit peculiar, with what seemed to be a cross on her chest. But who was she to judge another wolf? She was nearly purple-furred herself! And whoever heard of a wolf with violet eyes?

[Ärï]

"So you are a packwolf" Cross murmured. Young by wolf standards, when Cross rose she was only about half the size of Nightshade. Her red wine fur and deep green optics complimented each other well along with her black paws, ebony tail tip and ink-tipped ears. The black cross on her chest added to her elegant designing though she didn't like it much. It seemed this wolf wouldn't judge her too harshly for it. Heck, the other fae was purple! "I'm Cross." It was no pun. Cross had given herself her own name. Only about six months ago had she started using it though. Her mother hadn't been alive to name her.

[Sivoncé™]

"Nice to meet you. I haven't seen you around these parts before...how long have you been here?" Nightshade asked, curious. she winced as she felt the fae studying her. Her pack had accepted her odd looks, but she doubted wolves outside of the packs would.

[Ärï]

"Not long. I'm never allowed to stay in one place more then a night or two." Cross met the femme's violet eyes with her deep sorrowful emerald pools. "They chase me out as soon as they find me. I just thought I'd see what the stars looked like here before I headed off." Cross looked sad and she felt it. This was a packwolf. If she alerted her pack that a marked wolf had been seen, she'd be chased off before dawn's light. Marked was a favorite word among southern wolves. They always saw her as a curse, marked by whatever evil spirit they believed in and decided she was only bad. Especially when wolves started dying or got sick.....

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade's ears twitched slightly at these familiar words. "I was chased out from a pack known as the Xavrian pack when I was a pup. My mother died trying to escape with me...I was found by a kind wolf of Silver Mist named Amaya. She took me in as her own...." Nightshade woofed. "They branded me Nightshade, after a poisonous violet. I guess they just don't like purple!" She smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

[Ärï]

"I had to name myself. I never went by a name until a few months ago" Cross murmured. "My mom didn't live long enough to give me a name. Wolves just called me demon." Cross shrugged. "About the closest thing to what I am I guess. When I'm around, wolves get sick or start dying." Cross looked down at her ebony paws. Her tail was slightly tucked showing her shame.

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade glanced at her skeptically. "But the cross is something holy..." She didn't quite understand why bad things would happen around Cross. Perhaps it had been a different wolf around her?

[Ärï]

"Not for me" Cross muttered, sitting back on her hunches. "Wolves just start getting sick. They start dying. Wolves get sad and confused and kicked me out fangs first." Cross grimaced at the sour memories. "I never got sick though. It's weird. Sometimes I think I'm just a vessle for some virus that wants to make my life hell." Cross knew it wasn't entierly true. When wolves got sick she seemed to have a sixth sense for how to help them. The problem was, no one would let her near them. They thought, since she was the newcommer, she was the problem. She was the cause. After a while, Cross had started believing them and given up on packs.

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade shrugged. "Well I don't feel the slightest bit faint around you. I think they must be eaters of crowfood to get that sick!"

[Ärï]

"It'll come" Cross murmured, looking at her onyx-tipped paws. "It always does. I guess that's probably why momma died." Cross shrugged. "Oh well. I guess it just means I'm better off alone." The burgandy femme looked downcast and her heart felt heavy.