It was breeding season, and so Nios made himself scarce. The last thing he needed to do was unintentionally incite the wrath of Miccah (the wolf he hadn’t even met) or worse, one of the females. With his relations that tied him to the Woodlands quickly disappearing and weakening, the swarthy wolf once more found himself with the desire to wander, and so he roamed over the borders and outside of the lands, deeming it a safe time to do so. He would be back – Mirren might come home yet.


Despite the tantalizing hint of spring, winter still held its grip upon the Lore, and the wolf traversed upon impressive ice. It glistened from the trees in a reminder that it was not quite ready to leave, but it did not sway the swarthy male’s mood – not until he seen a familiar ebony form upon the creek.


He recognized her instantly – the peach of her eyes and the slender, feminine form. One that he did not doubt held prowess of battle. He was about to quip a greeting to her when she slipped – and then he hesitated. Should he pretend he hadn’t seen that..?


Even at his distance, the crack of ice caused his ears to swivel, and he heard her whine – there was no more thought, and just as he had when Taima had been drowning in the water, the dark male quickened his pace, racing forward before sliding closer to her. “Morganna,” he rumbled, his eyes studying her and her predicament. “Don’t stand – try to scooch closer to the edge.” It would do her no good if he stepped on to the creek as well, and so the stocky male waited, ready to grip her and pull her to safety if she should listen. Thus far, he had not even registered the faint beginning of a new scent.

He was ready to reach out to her as she scooted closer - his jaws slightly agape, just waiting to grasp fur and flesh should the ice give way beneath her. Both parties were fortunate it had not come to that -- Morganna, likely for her pride, and Nios, for he was unsure if his balance would even maintain them both upon the shore should he have required to lean forward and grab her.


Even so, as her paws planted firmly t land, the dark wolf could not help but barely graze his snout over her, the briefest of touches to ensure her safety as she gave a shaky 'thanks,' despite him having nothing to do with her success.


"Was all you," he murmured quietly, his bright eyes scanning her now as his senses practically vibrated with her nearness -- her nearness and her scent. He cleared his throat then, his eyes pulling up to study her features before he took a shaky step back -- as if distance could somehow soothe the ache he not felt to touch her once more. Nature was a fickle beast, and while he held attraction to Morganna upon their previous meeting, it did little to remind him that not only was she not his pack, but he was in no position to try to woo her.


She most likely had a suitor.



Not that it stopped a shifting grin to smooth across his lips, and his muzzle to cant slightly. "You look well," he noted.

Nios offered a light snort at her words, his muzzle swinging in a good natured shake of mild disagreement to her mention of the seven circles of hell. “Trust me,” he murmured gently, his eyes tracing over her. “If you had fallen in to that water, it would have been far worse.” Perhaps not the fiery heat of hell – but most certainly the most frigid temperature she likely would have imagined.


 
She then apologized for her scent – his ear gave a twitch as did his lip muscle – refraining from pushing himself closer. Nios would never press himself upon anyone who did not wish it – but given the way she swept to a gentle sit, as if ‘closing the door,’ he took it as such and gave a light clear of his throat. Not that it did anything to shift the longing smell. Swallowing roughly, he gave a light cant of his muzzle, insufficiently fishing for information. “Your mate will be very happy this season I imagine,” he rumbled quietly. Very smooth.

 
At the mention of drama, he took her own stance and sat down, his mind attempting to focus upon conversation rather than the sleek lines of muscle beneath her jet black fur.. and perhaps the way she would fit beside him so perfectly. “If I’ve learned anything about these valleys, they are never shy from drama,” he determined, wondering what her own life was like in Willow Ridge. All he knew of the pack was that his father had the upmost respect for Elettra.. and they were allies with the Woodlands.

He was not oblivious to their proximity.. nor was he oblivious to the way she inched closer.  No mate, she said, and yet the casualness of their conversation was almost a product of nature and what was happening to her body currently.


He wondered if Secret Woodlands would skin him alive if he even moved closer. Or.. worse. Her own pack.
,br>

Yet she was a Leader now. Her statement drew a light furrow of concern to his brows, if only because there did seem to be a lot of pressure upon her.


And no lead male that could be her mate.


"That is quite the scenario," he noted, his own form leaning forward to her as she rolled I'm the snow. She didn't understand how heavenly she smelled, nor the allure she had over him. Whether it was purely her heat or not, Nios did not know. "Protect what is yours," he determined quietly then, even not having met the brother or the uncle.. her position now was important. And what she did now determined everything.


"Unless it's not what you want in life?" It wasn't judgemental. Not everyone strives for leadership.. and it seemed like she had been placed within it.


At her question, he gave an amused chuckle. "No," he answered honestly, though his mind did drift to Bella. He didn't know her well, and Mirren was seemingly on the forefront of her mind. "I joined the Woodlands because my brother was there.. but he went looking for his mate who left awhile ago. She left him with a pup to raise on his own." He couldn't keep the lull of disagreement from his tone before giving a quick shake of his muzzle. His eyes drifted back to Morganna.. the shift of her body, the ease of her presence. He gave a crooked smile, his muzzle reaching out gently now to a nudge to the crown of her head, should she allow it -- a testing gesture of his presence to her.