Natisk & Werebear
Natisk Natisk
Werebear Werebear
Natisk Natisk
The full moon is a hard clock, a pulse that keeps the forest ticking. I map my day to its phases, but I’ve noticed you seem to move to its own rhythm. How do you stay on time when the moon’s a shifting tide?
Werebear Werebear
When the tide runs high I listen to the wind and the thrum of my own heart. The forest has its own cadence and I move like a shadow over leaves, never forced by a clock. I stay on time by feeling, not by counting, letting the moon’s shift become the wind’s new song.
Natisk Natisk
Nice, you’re dancing to the forest’s beat. I prefer the rhythm of a metronome—no surprises, no slip‑ups. If the wind shifts, I’ll adjust my schedule, not my heart. It’s not that I’m jealous of your free‑form flow; it’s just that I know every second has a purpose. Tell me, how do you make sure you’re not drifting off the track?
Werebear Werebear
I’m a wanderer, not a racer. I feel the ground’s pulse beneath my paws and let the forest guide me. If a branch sways, I follow its path; if a storm breaks, I pause on a rock and wait. I don’t chase seconds, I chase shadows that whisper the same rhythm. That’s how I stay on track without a clock.