Dustbowl Dance

[Faxe Zaphidi]

Get out of here.
Those words were inebriated by a thick brew of anger. They foamed with an intense hatred, a sadness - everything a mother could feel when facing a danger to her offspring. And he was a danger, even if he didn't admit it to himself. They had stayed with him through his travels from the sand dunes of his home, more memorable to the stranger than his sibling's defeated eyes.

Zap had heard those words, and he ran. Nimble as the hybrid was, with those long and awkward legs - a small body, compact, built for life among the desert - he was well versed in the art of running. The sands had floated below him as he flew, stride after stride. Barely a mark upon the grains of red and white, gold and brown; what marks his thin paws made were abolished by the wind. Nobody would be following, nobody cared where he went - Get out.

The night had come and gone, chilling the earth for a few hours, only to be forced away by the power of the sun. The heat did not bother him - even with that mottled coat of his, Faxe Zaphidi was built for this life. A small body did not use very much heat; the coarse white patches of fur deflected most of it anyways. For good measure the boy would stop every few hours to roll in the dust, coating himself with the tiny jewels. His body was tainted by the various shades, giving him a relief from the sun and a form of camouflage.

But then, why would you need camouflage if nobody cared about where you went? If nobody knew who you were?

Today was a new day, and Zap had crossed in to the Xanion Plains. He didn't know this of course, especially when all the sand looked the same - he just knew that his home was that way, and 'not home' was.. Everywhere else. This barren land was his home, the entire stretch of it, so it really didn't matter to him where his body really was. With the day fresh, the sun had yet to bake the earth - it still held the slightest chill of night. Still, Zap was looking for shade. He wanted a place to lay down and rest his legs, they had been pumping for three or four days now. Constant, forceful running. He would have to rest now - maybe find a meal later, if he had the strength.

A yawn broke the stillness as he stood there, looming over the dunes of sand from a nice hill. He surveyed the surrounding area lazily for a safe place to lay low for a while, yet could not spot anything. This place was so strange to him, maybe he'd have to ask for directions.

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[Akascha Ze'ev]

Akascha had too much time to muddle in her thoughts. With the recent alpha switch and the death of Azzuen, hardly anyone noticed she was there anymore. In fact, before that, hardly anyone had noticed her at all, anyway. She had left a kill near the dens, of course, for the pack to fill themselves up with. She had taken her portion; not a very big one because of her frequent hunting escapades. And although wandering had seemed like a good way to clear her head and somehow figure things out, coming to the desert was hardly a good idea for a wolf like her.

Being gray and thick-furred was killer out in the desert sun. Why had she come here, at this time of the day? Was she really so lost in her mind that she would walk into the deadly heat of the Xanion Plains? Or was she just lost in life, or seeking death? Nothing made sense anymore. Why had she joined a pack? So she could eat, and because she was tired of being alone, but even in the pack, she felt a bitter loneliness overcome her. Was she looking for company? If so, the plains was hardly the place to look. The place was,well, deserted. She found herself seeking anything that looked like food or water in minutes, and debated turning around and heading home. There was no one out there; no one to comfort her or talk to the scatter-brained wolf named Akascha.

And yet she found herself so desperate that delusions overcame her. Was that a wolf? Surely not. Then again, Akascha didn't have the imagination to come up with such a...unique wolf. Strange markings danced over his coat, and he ran with great agility. Almost up to par with me, thought the intrigued huntress. She smiled at the opportunity to talk to a newcomer and glanced back at the distant trees. She would have to remember where she was and how to get back. No problem for an awesome-minded tracker like her.

Akascha, for the first time in a long time, approached the other wolf. She was cautious; not submissive, but careful not to startle him and make it obvious she was there. She would fight if she had to; or she would fight, and possibly win. Many wolves had underestimated her. But she didn't pay any attention to them. Her focus was on this wolf here, and she smiled down at him, standing on a higher sand wave than he.

Hello, she said clearly. She studied him further up close; his marking sure were odd. Not the first she'd seen, but still particularly weird.