The third had not been in the pack for very long but had already worked on meeting any member of the pack that she could. By happenstance she had met @Aleksei before any other, and she thought of him now as she drifted through the River. Her mind ran rampant, but stopped short as she caught the whiff of something that made her nose quiver. Her walk was stopped short as she spun in a small semicircle, a tuft of fur—not of the canine variety—caught upon the clawed hand of a branch. The songbird sniffed around and now moved in a prowl...


A couple hundred feet later, there was deer scat and the recent imprint of a cloven foot. Nightingale knew what this meant, and her tail waved at the fortune of it. For a long time the she-wolf had been going hungry, out in the wilderness; Hearthwood River and the Wildwood both seemed intent to change this. The songbird now followed a different scent, the two most prominent upon the borders. Nightingale wondered what they might think of a hunt, even if only a small one, so that they could eat and fill the caches in preparation for the colder days to come. The hunt was the only thing her mind could think of and know; and so, she pushed through the territory in her search.

On the hunt, again, again. If anyone had told the rambunctious boy a year earlier, that in the future he would be doing the same thing, every day, and enjoying it, he would have laughed in their face. And yet here he was, pursuing every lead, keeping tabs on all prominent watering spots and checking every cache, day after day, never wavering from his calling. In winter times, tracking meant covering a vast area, searching far and wide for every trace of prey, and Orren had indeed familiarized himself with the areas surrounding his new home over the past months, taking trips out as often as he could. But today, the Baranski did not need to go far to find what he sought. He'd only just started off, trotting north along the river to head for the lowlands, when a very distinct scent reached him, carried on a sudden gust of wind. He paused for a second, nose to the sky as he breathed in deeply, an excited grin spreading on his face, then he quickly set off, eyes wide as he searched for the trail, eager to find it before he lost the scent. He could hardly believe that his first hint of larger prey in weeks seemed to be actually inside the territory. And this time he was not gonna let Kjors get to them first, he was determined to be the one calling the pack together this time. His movements were quick, long practice making him surprisingly swift for his size. He knew his land well, and with a little guess work, he managed to find the trail, the scent hanging heavy in a small, grassy clearing, where the deer had managed to dig out some hay from underneath the snow. The route they had taken from there was easy to spot, and it clearly hadn't been long since they passed through. Orren's tail waved eagerly, tongue slipping out one side of his open mouth as he panted, the strong smell of deer filling his nose, making his teeth water; Fresh meat, for all of us! The yearling turned to head back homeward and call together the pack – he wouldn't risk scaring away the herd by howling – but before he could take more than a few steps, he was surprised to see another wolf right there. Stopping awkwardly, the young man waved one ear, searching his mind for a moment to gather up the female's name, before he realized he didn't know it. She had joined them just recently, and though he had both smelled and seen her, he'd never gotten a name. A small bark of nervous laughter left his mouth, and he waved his tail tentatively, then called in a low voice: "Hi there." Word count: 459 ”Speech" Thoughts

FurLined @DA

Nightingale heard the approach of another who completely missed her. He couldn't be at fault for it; she blended well with the wood so long as it was not covered in snow [which at present, it wasn't] and what was more, she was downwind of him. He had come through a different direction and the songbird was adequately camouflaged by her surroundings. Only if one stared would one notice, and as the males gaze swung toward her he did just that. Nightingale hadn't intended to be hidden, it had simply worked out that way. There was little time for her to approach him before he noticed her in any case, little time to do anything, even.


In life, when not in the arms of the pack, Nightingale could be quite milquetoast; but here and now, with goals and dreams and ideas, she was no such thing. The songbird was new, but not intimidated by wolves that were pack-mates. It was a strange thing, her mind. But pack she had always equated to family to her, which made this wolf something of a brother to her. Like Aleksei, she could not discern his age or guess at it; he looked adult enough to her. The songbird approached him just as he looked to her and greeted her, responding with a spirited, Hey!



She wasn't one to waste time. Gale lingered before him a moment, her intentions quite obvious as her nose quivered. And once she felt that she had given him time to digest, she drew even nearer to try and sniff at him excitedly, greeting him packmate to packmate. There were no designs she had to pretend to be a stranger; this was home, and had been for some weeks now. For however long this remained true, she would not shy from responsibilities and camaraderie. After all, the potential that this might be home forever was very real... if she ignored recent incidents.



Which she could not do, but did not yet know how to acknowledge or regard or respond to them. She would have to do something... it required thought.



In any case, she was here now. Nightingale, after her attempt to get to know him via scent, drew to the side (regardless of her success, or lack of it) and looked to him, tail waving. I'm Nightingale. You tracking the herd, too? Nightingale tried to think if she had been informed of anyone's wish to become a hunter, but could not remember if Kisla had told her. It mattered not; in hunting, it was teamwork that brought victory and full stomachs both. To have a partner in this excited her as much as the herd passing through had.

Well, well, well! Deer. Alek's nose quivered in the winter air, testing the scent of the herd on the wind. He dropped his head, snuffling through wet leaves and soil, following his snoot for a moment. Perhaps this could be beneficial to not only him -- he was still determined to prove his worth to his parents as a wolf -- but to the whole pack as well. Big game in their bellies would be a wonderful thing, after all!

He jogged through the territory that belonged to his family, yellow-green eyes darting around to search for visual clues that complemented the musky scent of deer. Quick, quick, quickly now, before someone else muscled in on the potential to be helpful. How selfish. Trotting on with a few excited snorts and snuffles here and there, he picked up the pace into a slow run, large paws drumming against the ground with each lope. He was focused on the scent, perhaps tunnel-visioning with his nose ... so much so, that he almost tripped over his own feet as the sound of his brother's voice called out lowly against the otherwise peaceful ambience of Kingsfall. Bloody hell, was he that obvious to spot?

"Orren? How did you know I was--," he stopped dead in his tracks as he came across his copper-accented younger sibling, eyes growing wide. He looked so much more ... mature now. Not the brother he remembered leaving. And then, there she was; the woman he'd been considering searching for to spend time with again: "Nightingale!" His voice was far too excited to be nonchalant. He closed his distance between the two wolves, smiling as he did so. "So I'm not the only one who smelt them then, huh?"

The woman was not late to respond, approaching happily to greet her pack mate. Orren stiffened a little when the young woman moved to sniff his pelt, unaccustomed to this kind of candid behavior from strangers, however much pack mates they may be. Still, he didn't pull back, relaxing slowly as her scent started to fill his own nostrils with every breath. When she pulled back, he smiled palely, tail wagging behind him and he nodded eagerly at her introduction. "'Am Orren," He breathed, smile growing; "And A was indeed!" He was about to say more, but the sound of quick, heavy footfalls interrupted them, ears perking and head swiveling as his name was suddenly called. A silvery figure appeared out of the woods, large frame paling in comparison to the towering sequoias. The younger brother's fiery eyes widened equally as he looked upon his sibling, heart speeding up in his chest. Since Aleksei's return, Orren had dreaded the day they would stand face to face, and he'd counted himself lucky that the older brother seemed just as intend on avoiding him. And now here he was. "Alek…" The brighter colored boy muttered, turning his eyes down. For as long as Orren could remember, Aleksei had been the better son. He had been their father's heir, living up to everything that had been expected of him, both destined and worthy to follow in Maksim's footsteps. Then they had left Cut Rock River, and everything had changed. Not long after staking claim to the land of Hearthwood River, Alek had disappeared – for what reason Orren didn't know – but suddenly the younger brother had been forced to step up. Always the disappointment, the black sheep, Orren had suddenly been the only prince of the river, and it fell on him alone to live up to that title. He had done his best, he had guarded his new sisters, served the pack as a tracker and hunter, he had grown up. Yet, he felt like he had failed; @Karina…. Their sister had drifted away from the family, had abandoned them in favor of someone else, and while Orren liked to blame @Kjors, in his heart, he felt he was ultimately at fault. Their father too, had been injured on Orren's watch, forced to retire from his post as king; Almost dead… Yes, the lesser prince had failed, and now he was unable to look his returned brother in the eyes. Luckily, Nightingale drew his attention, and Orren too turned to the tawny woman, ears twitching as the conversation fell on smelling. Not looking at his brother, the young hunter answered his question, a smile inadvertently sneaking back on his face at the words: "They can't be more than a few miles out. Meat enough for all of us!" Word count: 465 ”Speech" Thoughts

FurLined @DA