Nagga took her teasing in stride, claiming himself as “always the pariah of the bunch”. He even shot her a defiant smirk, giving Naia the impression that he was proud of that fact. An amused grin twitched at the corners of the tawny girl’s mouth. She enjoyed this newcomer’s easygoing sense of humor—not often did she come across a strapping young male who was willing to laugh at himself. As she described the beauty of Relic Lore in the springtime, she noticed Nagga glance around, as if he was wondering what she could possibly see in the place. ”It can’t snow forever,” he said with a little smile, which Naia thought was curious. It was true of course, the snow would eventually melt, but the optimism behind such a statement was what drew Naia’s attention. Most wolves would have replied with something jaded—it was refreshing to speak with someone who wasn’t yet a victim of life’s cruelties.

”Yes,” she sighed in reply to Nagga’s comment on her struggle, ”He was the kindest leader I had ever known… it was hard on all of us. Especially his pups…” Naia’s honey eyes narrowed, and she fixed her stare on the pronghorn carcass hoping that Nagga wouldn’t see the anger that flared up in her expression as she thought of Shade’s children. The delicate girl usually shrank from any sort of violence, but she wouldn’t mind seeing Shade’s assassin ripped open and prostrate in the snow like this deer. It took a special sort of evil to orphan two pups at the start of their first winter. Naia looked back up when her companion asked about Shade’s death. Oh… she began, trying to find her place once more in the story. She shook her head, embarrassed that she had let her emotions distract her. ”Slain by an enemy from his past,” she said simply—not because she was hesitant to reveal information to him, but because that was all she really knew about the circumstances. After Shade’s death, the situation in Pitch Pine Trail had been chaotic to say the least. Frantic preparations for winter were constantly interrupted as pack members struggled to create a new hierarchy, and nobody who knew the whole story was available or willing to discuss the event in detail.

Near stranger as he was, he did not offer sympathy for her situation. It was probably better that he didn’t—if he had expressed sorrow, Naia might have cheekily replied, “Do not apologize for them,” echoing her companion’s first words to her. That was Naia’s curse; she was engaged in a near constant effort to lighten the mood, even (especially) during a serious discussion. No doubt the impulse was left over from the time she spent serving her birthpack as an omega, whose primary responsibility was to dissipate fights before they happened. Although the role of the omega is important, Naia felt shame for her previous Lowest position, certain that she was meant for a more respectable rank. She attempted to suppress the residual behaviors that she felt were indicative of her time spent as an omega, but the biggest problem was that if her vigilance lapsed she acted on her involuntary impulses without really being aware of it.

As it was, she felt relieved when Nagga changed the subject, alleviating her instinctive discomfort with such a serious topic. She grinned easily at his description of the two of them as “homeless,” enjoying the respite that even such a small action as a smile provided from the gravity of their previous subject. ”As a matter of fact, I do!” she answered his question enthusiastically. Naia was more than willing to share what she knew—she collected information from other loners whenever possible, and she was happy to return the favor for a change. ”There are three packs that I am aware of which reside within a day’s travel of our location,” she began, turning away from their meal to face the meadow. Their position on the Rise was perfect for her explanation, with the lands she was about to discuss spread out like a blanket below.

”The closest are the Ridge Wolves—they live directly north of here, along the edge of the Pass,” she told him, turning her head to point the way. If she did not know the name of a pack she used a nickname to keep them straight in her mind. After she delivered the facts, she gave him her opinion. ”I passed their scent markers on the way here and…” she paused, wondering how best to describe the smell. It was always so difficult to put a smell into words. ”They smell sort of rigid, if that makes sense. Strong, though—if that’s what you’re looking for.” A harsh pack with black-and-white rules and swift discipline was not the place for restless Naia, and that was the impression she had received. What she didn’t tell Nagga was that this was the pack that housed Shade’s murderer, and Naia would rather die out in the cold than live in the umbriferous shadow of such a monster.

”If you cross the meadow and enter the woods, you’ll smell the Cave Wolves. I don’t know much about them, but perhaps you can do some sniffing yourself. If cave living suits your fancy.” She grinned as she delivered the last sentence—it amused her to imagine Nagga living in a cave, ivory coat streaked with the abominable gray cave sludge. His pelt would probably never recover. She wished she could tell him more about the Cave Wolves, but the strong stench of cave clay they left behind flooded her senses whenever she neared the border. The smell overwhelmed any other scent, and she was never able to glean anything more from the markers. Naia supposed that it was something you just got used to, but she couldn’t stand the thought of living with that smell following her wherever she went, clinging to her pelt and drowning out her senses. In fact, Naia’s roleplayer guides cave trips professionally, and she finds it hard to believe that anything would actually choose to live in a cave. Even the bats have to escape at least once a day.

”If you pass the Cave wolves and keep travelling north, you’ll reach a marsh. Cross the marsh, and you should smell the River Wolves. They are a fairly new group—At least I don’t remember smelling them last time I was west of the Pass.” The River Wolves smelled like a delightful mixture of fresh, moist soil with a tangy hint of the marsh. It was rare to come across the scent of a River Wolf this far south, but when she did it always intrigued her. She thought perhaps this was the pack that Aeolus had mentioned joining, following two of their other former Pitch Pine Trail packmates. Despite the pack’s collapse they still felt like her family, and she trusted their judgment. If the River Wolves were taking in Pitch Pine Trail refugees then that was where she was headed. ”Once I stretch my legs a little, that’s where I’ll be going,” she imparted. ”There might be another pack or two even further north, but those are areas I have never explored.” Finished with her lecture, she turned back to the pronghorn for a bite to chew on while she waited for Nagga to give his impressions.

Nagga continued to ask questions about Pitch Pine Trail, and Naia couldn’t help but wonder why. It was certainly an interesting story, but the slight female had thought that surely the young loner would be far more anxious to learn about the packs around here that still existed. Perhaps he was looking to create his own family? It would make sense for him to try to understand more about pack politics—especially failed ones—if he was trying to start a new pack instead of join up with an existing one. It was the only reason that Naia could imagine he would continue to inquire about the fallen Pitch Pine Trail, a morose topic that both of them were clearly uncomfortable discussing. Well, there was the possibility that he simply enjoyed a good story as well… or maybe there was a soft, sensitive wolf under the demonish appearance and he was filled with concern for the orphaned pups.

”Yes, as far as I know their mother was never part of Pitch Pine Trail,” Naia imparted. She had assumed the woman was dead, for what other reason could a mother separate from her young children? ”In her absence, there was no definitive choice for which of us would lead beside him. The position was occupied by several females in a relatively short amount of time.” For reasons unknown to Naia, the females of Pitch Pine Trail had passed the alpha position like a baton—it seemed to always be the case that the woman who occupied the position didn’t want it, and the women who wanted the position were never offered. That was the overarching problem with living in a peaceful, easygoing pack; the ranks were strangely fluid and tentative when wolves were promoted according to merit as opposed to rank challenge. ”Without Shade, and without a firmly established female leader, the pack fell apart.” As she shared, Naia’s ears flattened out in an agitated way. It could be perceived that she was annoyed with the females in her pack for their inability to ‘get it together’, so to speak—but that wasn’t really the case. For some strange, instinctive reason she actually felt reluctant to share her pack’s messy politics with Nagga. There was no logical reason she should feel that way; Pitch Pine Trail was dissolved, and it wasn’t coming back. However, emotions were rarely logical, and discussing private pack matters with an outsider still made her stomach turn.

Perhaps Nagga noticed her agitation, because he changed the subject then to ask about the existing packs nearby. Delighted for the subject change, she told him everything she knew and threw in a few sly opinions, too. Even in the short amount of time the two had spent together, she had grown fond of the pale giant, and it would pain her to see him join up with the wrong bunch—those murderous Ridge Wolves, for instance. She nodded to confirm when he asked for clarification about her headed to the River Wolves. It did seem like the best place to start. If the River Wolves wouldn’t have her, she could continue to explore farther north or backtrack to the Cave Wolves. ”I completely agree,” she said with her trademark grin, ”You’re welcome to join me if you would like to travel there together.” Two wolves standing together against the wilds were better than one, Naia thought, especially when one of those wolves was her size. She would understand if he turned her down though—he seemed to be doing alright for himself, large and powerful as he was, and if he was alone he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing any other meal he might come across.

”I’ll be traveling straight through the center of the meadow though… you might find it easier to go your own way through the treeline.” Ever the diplomat, she offered him a graceful way to decline her invitation. Plowing straight through the meadow was a difficult way to travel; the snow would reach Naia’s chin and Nagga’s chest in most places, and there were likely to be deep snowdrifts hidden that they would crash into. Circumnavigating the meadow through the willow forest was by far the best option—that is, if you weren’t a Pitch Pine Trail Wolf. Even though Pitch Pine Trail had collapsed, Naia imagined that a Ridge Wolf would still attack a former PPT Wolf on sight, especially since the pack’s smell still lingered on her pelt. It would be most prudent for her to avoid any chance of colliding with a Ridge Wolf. ”I doubt the Ridge Wolves would take kindly to smelling me near their borders… but I’m sure you could make it.” As they discussed their departure, Naia grasped the ravaged pronghorn carcass gently and flipped it over. They had decent journey ahead of them, and she wanted to make sure they had stripped the deer of all the meat it had to offer.

Though her ghostly companion had been interested enough to ask questions about Pitch Pine Trail’s plight, he offered no opinion of his own beyond a contemplative, ”Hmm”. He twitched a little when she described the situation with her former pack’s lead female, cluing Naia into his inner feelings. Something about the leadership situation hit a false note with him, and Naia had to admit to herself that she should have known something was wrong too. Of course hindsight vision is always perfect, but even so there were wolves disappearing from Pitch Pine Trail long before Shade’s death. They had been objective enough to realize there was a structural problem in the pack, and they had been smart enough to find new homes before winter set in. Naia was one of the few that had clung to the dwindling pack right until the bitter end, which some wolves would see as loyal... and others would call it just plain stupid.

The giant male agreed to her suggestion right away, and Naia couldn’t help but smile demurely. He hadn’t even heard her plan yet, and he was already jumping on board! Faltering a little, she revealed her plan to charge straight through the meadow, offering him a chance to turn her down. ”I am alright traveling with you,” he reassured her, offering again that smile that softened his demonlike features. ”Okay,” she said simply, returning his smile with a dazzling grin of her own. ”River Wolves or bust!”

He seemed to be waiting for her to take the lead, so she started off without hesitation. It didn’t even occur to her that she ought to not turn her back on someone she just met, or that perhaps she should be suspicious of his hasty agreement. Every wolf she had met so far had been honest about his or her intentions, at least as far as Naia could tell. If she had never met a two-faced wolf before, why should she assume that one existed at all? From her rather naïve point of view, wolves were straightforward creatures. Such a trusting nature was bound to hurt her eventually, but she had yet to experience the pain of a backstabbing companion. Naia picked her way down Fireweed Rise with a light heart, her emotions unburdened by fear or suspicion. Chilling as his appearance might be, the specterlike wolf on her heels had agreed to be her traveling companion, which to Naia meant that they would protect and take care of one another, no question about it.