![[Vida] Solitude Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
by The Dead had taken their toll on Vida. A mere month or two after Arianna's return, she found herself in need of solitary reflection. She needed to find a place to be alone with her thoughts while she rehabilitated. She didn't take that time after Kurnin was destroyed; she needed it then to make up for the eighteen years she spent avoiding the reality of what had rocked her mind, only to resurface in an ugly conflict in new territory.
She returned to her roots, or her roots as she knew them: the version of herself that existed when she found herself separated from the rest of the Frost Fang. It was the purest version of herself: carefree, quick-witted, even a little sassy - though no one was around to experience that much.
The realization struck her that she wasn't meant to live the life she thought she would have by then. At her age, her parents had already met and sworn themselves to each other. She was still alone, with no glimmer of hope for change.
It was just as well: the nightmares still shocked her out of her slumber with startled screams. Night terrors, as real as anything. The realistic, vivid memory of pain returned to her every night. In the beginning, after the first two or three weeks of this, she'd taken to sleeping alone in the quietest, most remote area she could find that was as close as possible to where the rest of her clan slept. She wasn't fit for a companion. She was barely even fit to live amongst a pack.
For months, she trained herself in the peace and quiet of solitude in a land that felt pure and virginal. The dead occasionally spoke to her, but it was never anything more than a gentle, passing greeting as she easily guided the confused souls into the Umbra.
The relative peace and quiet seemed to be doing her well. Vida was more grounded. She crafted a bow and various arrows; steadily practiced her aim until she could hunt smaller prey on her own when the option of shifting wasn't one she could take. Her staff became used for little more than an occasional walking stick; she walked so much that some days, her knees and calves grew weak and she needed the assistance. Something about it all was freeing.
A heavy fur coat protected her human form from the biting cold of winter, even as flakes of snow occasionally piled onto her blanketed body. Her hair had grown long and auburn once again. In an odd show of rejuvenation, some of the age had left her sharp features. She'd survived once before on her own in the wilderness, and she'd done it again.
Spring would be upon them soon: a time of new beginnings. This was the time to return.
Spring would bring better things for the Spirit Walker, whether she returned to an actual pack, a single remaining member, or nothing at all.
She returned to her roots, or her roots as she knew them: the version of herself that existed when she found herself separated from the rest of the Frost Fang. It was the purest version of herself: carefree, quick-witted, even a little sassy - though no one was around to experience that much.
The realization struck her that she wasn't meant to live the life she thought she would have by then. At her age, her parents had already met and sworn themselves to each other. She was still alone, with no glimmer of hope for change.
It was just as well: the nightmares still shocked her out of her slumber with startled screams. Night terrors, as real as anything. The realistic, vivid memory of pain returned to her every night. In the beginning, after the first two or three weeks of this, she'd taken to sleeping alone in the quietest, most remote area she could find that was as close as possible to where the rest of her clan slept. She wasn't fit for a companion. She was barely even fit to live amongst a pack.
For months, she trained herself in the peace and quiet of solitude in a land that felt pure and virginal. The dead occasionally spoke to her, but it was never anything more than a gentle, passing greeting as she easily guided the confused souls into the Umbra.
The relative peace and quiet seemed to be doing her well. Vida was more grounded. She crafted a bow and various arrows; steadily practiced her aim until she could hunt smaller prey on her own when the option of shifting wasn't one she could take. Her staff became used for little more than an occasional walking stick; she walked so much that some days, her knees and calves grew weak and she needed the assistance. Something about it all was freeing.
A heavy fur coat protected her human form from the biting cold of winter, even as flakes of snow occasionally piled onto her blanketed body. Her hair had grown long and auburn once again. In an odd show of rejuvenation, some of the age had left her sharp features. She'd survived once before on her own in the wilderness, and she'd done it again.
Spring would be upon them soon: a time of new beginnings. This was the time to return.
Spring would bring better things for the Spirit Walker, whether she returned to an actual pack, a single remaining member, or nothing at all.
