For Bronx.

In Character

mars speaks...

It hadn't been a good night. Mars sighed in frustration. What was the problem? His vision faded to a white mist every so often, from being so terribly tired, but when he tried to sleep, no relief came. He'd spent most of the night rubbing at his eyes with his paws, to no noticeable effect. It couldn't be something he ate, for otherwise he felt perfectly fine, and the hare had been freshly killed, anyhow. He wasn't really prone to insomnia--he was simply a night owl and did his best thinking under the watchful gaze of the stars. Typically, when he lay his head down to sleep, he slept.

Typically.

He had to admit, though, as he gazed out across the valley, that this was a sight almost worth staying up for. He was perched on a slight plateau etched into one side of Nova Mountain, where the Sparkling Springs made their gradual descent into the Salvajes. Some insanity had driven him to climbing up there (another symptom of something, perhaps, for normally he would give any kind of heights a very, very wide berth), and he had lain there from sunset to the present time: dawn.

Rosy fingers of light crept over the mountaintops in the east, uncurling to touch the thin clouds that lingered over the valley itself. A rain fell from the grey undersides of these clouds--a light, steady rainfall that was turned golden in the daybreak. The clouds themselves were painted coral one moment, then golden orange, and then several colors with no men-given names. Finally the capricious sunlight settled for turning them a golden-pink, and the rainclouds seemed to Mars to be a crown above the mountains.

He was blessed to live in a place like this, wasn't he? There was so much to see, so much to eat, so many other wolves to meet, so few troubles to concern them all. It was a strange place, really, in that there seemed to be few conflicts between packs, and very little competition with, say, coyotes. There were no disease-riddled wolves, no shortages of food, no droughts. Yes, Gold Moon Forest had flooded, but it had been fairly minor, hadn't it? The water was all dried up there, or so he'd heard.

So why, then, did Mars feel dissatisfied? Even as he watched the gorgeous dawn unfolding before him, the light rain like mist on his back, the sound of softly trickling water in his ears, he felt partially empty. As though someone had poured too little wine into the glass. He enjoyed what he had been given, but when the last drop was gone, he was left wanting more.

He had the land, the beauty of it. He had a pack, and within it held a moderately high rank, and an important co-rank. He knew eight or nine of the wolves from his pack as acquaintances, and he knew of others from meetings. Outside of his pack, he had met several others; word had reached him that one of them was Strawberry Fields' alpha, and he had scented something of Arsenio around Mount Shadow around the time he had met that young Leviathan pup.

But what was he lacking? A group of true friends, ones he could talk with about anything and nothing at all, wolves he could joke around with and relax with and be himself with. A mate, though he had his share of potential luck in that arena, if he could ever muster up the words to speak with Stratus about it. A family, though that went with the mates thing.

Oh, and at the moment he was lacking sleep, too.

__________It struck Bronx (just as the sun struck the horizon) how similar dawn was to early sunset. The same colours, but not as vibrant; the same tones, but not as violent; the same feel, but firmer. Dawn, all in all, seemed to be so much softer than evening, and with a sense of peace that no other time of day tended to have. Perhaps it was that tiredness of waking up, or perhaps it was something deeper. Either way, Bronx was not one who admired landscapes – but he admired dawn nonetheless.
__________Nova Mountain’s Guardian was out for the morning patrol, walking round the most heavily populated (in terms of trespassers) areas of the borders with his physique held as exceptionally tall as it was, and his paws swift and automatic. Bronx sensed those who had come and gone from the borders, but no sign of struggles or fights concerning trespasses. As he completed the circuit, he headed for a drink, finding himself near Sparkling Springs, where he dipped his muzzle swiftly towards the cool, sweet, and indeed ‘sparkling’ water.
__________He had never spent much time at Sparkling Springs, besides travelling through it, so felt the need to explore a little more, soon following the scent of another male. When he approached, Bronx nodded briefly; Morning, he started typically.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep. "Sleep," he heard. Or wait, did he? No, wait, that wasn't what the stranger said. He'd said "morning." That made more sense. Blinking to clear the fog from his vision, Mars glanced up. A dark male stood there, looking neutral enough. He didn't carry himself in an alpha-ish way, so Mars relaxed slightly from the sudden tenseness in his shoulders.

"Morning," he returned the greeting, "Though I can't assure you that it is or will be a good one." A faint, sleepy smile curve his dark lips. "Pretty, though." Another long look was swept out over the Salvajes and the lovely dawn that lay there. The serenity of the moment seemed to carry his mind off into another world of soft white clouds and golden sunlight, until a yawn split his jaws and brought him back to his body. For a moment, he wondered if the stranger had said anything more, but then realized he had only stopped speaking himself milliseconds ago. No worries--about that, anyway.

__________Bronx frowned in a faint enough fashion for it to not be noticed, for he had noticed a slight drowsiness to the stranger's features - he had certainly blinked in an "am I seeing things?"-like fashion, but this could just be sleep deprivation. One couldn't blame Bronx from wondering, though, whether the stranger was a victim of the disease that was currently sweeping the valley - perhaps it had just begun on this one, or he had only drank a small, nigh-clear amount of the contaminated water.
__________The Guardian nodded briefly; it was all rather pretty. Bronx certainly didn't appreciate beautiful landscape (that was not to say he didn't not appreciate them), but he knew when they were there. Rolling out over the horizon, with a sky that looked like pale blue quick sand swallowing up those traces of pink salmon and sweet purple that lay swooning up there towards the heavens.
__________Though I can't assure you that it is or will be a good one. Bronx glanced at the wolf vaguely. Why? Are you a Skywatcher? He asked with genuine curiosity. He had heard of that co-rank existing in and around the packs of the Salvajes, and it had intrigued him.

__________The stranger seemed surprised by Bronx’s question, and it would have indeed seemed out of the blue if the other male had not said Though I can't assure you that it is or will be a good one which suggested that he at least knew something. In other news, Bronx knew “something” too, when it came to the weather. It was impossible to travel for as long as he had without knowing when and where it was going to rain, gale and snow, and so on.
__________Guardian? Me too, he answered gruffly; and no, I’m not new. He paused and threw his glance over the male, noting on how extraordinarily tired he seemed. I think I should leave you to it, mate. You seem exhausted.

Though Mars would like sleep, he hastily decided that he probably preferred the male's company. Besides, his rest, if he got any, would likely be broken and unsatisfying, and thus, not worth missing the possibility of a new acquaintance. "You needn't go," he said, to stop Bronx from doing so. "I don't mind--I probably couldn't sleep anyhow. Damned sickness going around, I guess." He shrugged.

A glance was swept to the landscape before them. The clouds that had been drizzling had apparently emptied themselves of rain and were currently splitting apart with the rising sun. That was disappointing; a good storm might have been nice, what with the heat and all.

__________Having assumed that the stranger was not about to let the thought of company go, his guess was soon confirmed to be correct – the other male seemed far too tired just to lie or be automatically polite. Perhaps the wolf had plans on simply staying up for as long as he could, for one reason or another; perhaps he was afraid of sleep and of the dreams that riddled the mind’s atmosphere in the black night. If that were the case, then it was not Bronx’s place – nor character – to insist that he be healthy and go and get some rest. Whether or not this stranger was riddled by torturous nightmares every night or not was not in Bronx’s interest, and he didn’t mind company, and thus was content acting as a conversationalist for the other Guardian.
__________Either that, or perhaps the stranger was looking for information and needed the company. Yes, I agree this illness can be a bit of a sleep-stirrer… he nodded briefly before he continued; unless you mean that in a literal sense, of course. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear that a group of insane invalids were dancing around you pretending they were pirates all night. Not an experience Bronx would have liked to repeat. But yeah, you should get some sleep. I should be going. He nodded briefly to the stranger, and was off, back towards the grassy track along which he had been travelling.