Kingsfall – further north than he'd travelled since his arrival in Relic Lore. It was more densely wooded than the Ghastly Forest. The trees here towered like lords over their middling plebeians, massive giants among a world of mere mortals. Your average wolf might have been cowed – perhaps even inspired by such a majestic, otherworldly place. The dragon, however, found himself questioning why he left his former den in the first place. It was not the small hole he'd carved out under a dead tree that he missed, nor was it the familiar, earthy scent that clung to Urotho that he craved. The sparse wood was sheltered enough to leave him unbothered, lest he sought to seek out others, and populated enough by wildlife that he did not go hungry, even as a loner, but it was not that home he found himself reflecting on.

The Scarlet Cliffs – far, far away from here, further south and upon a harsh coastline. It was beautiful in its wild nature, whipped by fierce winds and carved out from a unique, red earth. A territory untamed, he felt like he belonged there, even if he hadn't stumbled upon it until the age of three. Well-versed in the role of adult wolves by then, he made it his own as if he were still the alpha his father had left behind in charge of Ered Luin. It was an exhaustive effort, for one, slightly smaller than average male, but that did not deter Kjors from his calling. The cliffside was a place a dragon could spread his wings and take air, bound by nothing but his own desire and ambitions. He thrived, despite the challenge and sacrifice required to maintain the small area, and he was satisfied. There he could nurse his wounded pride back into the monster it once was, and grow into the wolf his father had once inspired.

It was there, upon the salty winds, that he'd met Urotho in the first place. The massive female towered over him – but when had the dark, earthy wolf ever let a little thing like size put him off? She was not unlike him, quiet and brooding, preferring to keep to her own company, and he might have let her, had he not scene the bite of her wit. It was chance that brought them together, though he had believe it was the Mother acting through the natural world to bring her to him, and a whim that opened his grizzled maw while his thick accent fell out. The badger woman had answered, and between them a kinship was struck as lightning might ignite tinder left to the wind for too long. The friendship had sizzled into something more, and the massive creature came around more often than not. Before he knew it, he'd sought her permission to court her properly, bringing her a snowshoe hare in the dead of winter. Placed at the mouth of her roomy den, he'd been granted the opportunity he wished for. A courtship began.

A courtship, dashed by the outbreak of a war that had little to do with the two starcrossed wolves. The massive, war mongering pack of the south had set their eyes upon expanding their reach – something he'd have to dealt with regardless, but the wicked, secretive wolves north of them did not wish to see their own boarders encroached upon. It quickly became a force of nature, countless wolves he did not recognized rumbling on his own territory. Being mistaken for a member of one group or the other was only a matter of time, and as two lone wolves that stood not a chance. Dens were abandoned, and while Kjors wasn't privy to the exact situation that had forced Kisla, Maksim, and the rest of the Cut River Rock pack from their original territory, but he could, at the very least, understand the humiliation and rampant unhappiness that was coupled with such a traumatizing event. The loss of two of the alphas' cubs was testimony enough to the sacrifice wrought by the couple and the wolves they led. Empathy was not something the dragon generally cared to practice, nor he was a pack wolf terribly devoted to a second family. But he was a pack wolf, now, and if nothing else, he could understand what had been wrought upon the group he willingly joined.

So when the call rose up through the sequoia trees, Kjors paused from his hunt. Paws stilled as the pine marten scurried away, scaling a tree out of harm's way. The male paid little mind to his prey's escape, head tipping upwards as his ears swiveling and taking in the song. It was something proud and joyful, an announcement to the world that the river wolves were here, no longer under the banner of Cut River Rock, but presenting themselves as the pack of Hearthwood River. Something foreign bubbled in the male's chest, a strange sense of pride in witnessing the birth of something greater than one single wolf, and he listened a little longer. A second song soon joined the wind – it was a voice he did not recognize, but the tenor added strength to the Lord's proud call. Not about to be outdone, the one-eyed timber rested his haunches on the ground and threw his head towards the heavens. His first call was a softer one, seeking @Karina if his favorite princess was nearby. This was a moment they ought to share, if the little gem was anywhere in the area.

He did not dwell on the matter, instead raising his voice to join Maksim's call. The male might not consider himself a prime example of a pack wolf, but this was a suffering he well understood. Kjors lent his own raspy, wild song to the group, announcing the presence of Hearthwood River to all who had ears to hear it. This was the place they would carve out their existence, all of them, and he would be damned before any creature, notion, or force of nature drove them from it. This was Hearthwood River, these were its wolves, and they would make this home.

Burtn @DA & Dawnthieves.de - Table by PuppyThief