Larkcall Lowlands So nice to meet you, it feels like the first time

The man's pace was quick and choppy as he padded among bristling grass and patches of slushy snow. His belly rumbled as he passed over a rabbit's scent trail and he veered in his tracks, adapting to the path left by the grazer. He couldn't do this much longer, and he knew it. Mace didn't want to stop or swear his allegiance before he found the answers he was looking for, but if he squandered much more time, he would ultimately waste away. His eyes were bright as he followed the hare's trail, but there was fear and doubt hidden in their depths, the knowledge that he was on borrowed time if he kept living like this.

He didn't know which course to take. Part of him yearned to keep going, to martyr himself in pursuit of his family's legacy, and give no thought to his well-being until he found the answers. Part of him wanted to stop, return to the familiar, and find a place among them, give up this fool's pursuit and stay alive. Another part entirely wanted to backtrack to where Iyes lived and make a new life proving to her that he was worth her time. And the last part of him wanted to give up entirely, return to his Tinley, and forget this adventure ever happened. The Attaya name was worth much to Mace, but was it worth his own death?

And which was the right path to follow? Even Mace didn't know that. He couldn't make up his mind, so he prowled out onto the tundra with ceaseless strides, restless to his core. The hare's trail was old, and it would take him quite some time to track it down. He intended to use that time to clear his head and decide what he would do next, each option clamoring for his attention, and none of them coming out on top.

Askan wasn't a hypocrite, or at the very least tried not to be.

It was almost funny that just a few months ago the mere thought that Craw wanted to rule over all of north was enough to put him on edge. To make him snarl in contempt at the wanna-be King, at all that he stood for and desired.And yet now the Guardian couldn't help but want to extend the borders of their land and take more of the tundra as their own. It was a silly thought, one he knew that the Rye King and their neighbours wouldn't appreciate but...What was wrong with wanting more? Was he just being greedy? Was he a fool for even allowing the thought to take root?

The Selwyn shook his head. Probably. When it came to pack matters the sky wasn't really the limit, it was far lower, grounded in reality and reason. After all, it wasn't only his future and welfare at risk. He had the other's to think of. So with all of that in mind, Askan couldn't help but be relieved that it wasn't his job to worry about such affairs. Being a leader had to be a lot more difficult then what Drestig made it seem. The Old Man made everything seem so easy, took everything in his stride and went with the flow. Askan respected him more than he could ever say, but in times like this when he was deep in thought he couldn't help but be a little jealous.

How did the saying go? With age came wisdom? Well he certainly was getting on in years, so that probably explained a thing or two.

Huffing to himself, Askan allowed the smile to linger on his face for a moment or so before he glanced out at the Lowlands once again from his spot on the Lookout. The tundra was just as white and the snow just as slushy as it had been for the past few days. Great. When was spring finally going to get its ass in gear? Any day would be nice.

Minding his footing, Askan scaled down the hill until he crossed over the invisible, but well marked border of their land. Rather than spend his day going over pointless topics in his head he figured he might as well be productive. Maybe a bit of scouting would get rid of his ambitious itch? At the very least some exercise would do him some good.

He was only a little into his run-half an hour at most- when a dark figure slinking along ahead of him caught his attention. Slowing to a trot, Askan took the time to observe stranger from a safe distance. They were big, taller, longer and just a tad bulkier than himself. And rather than having a coat dappled with dark shades of brown, his was was completely black without even a hint of variation in tone. By this point Askan had met all sorts of loners skulking around the loners, but those of such a well built physique were few and far between. They tended to be thin, frail things who hadn't eaten a solid meal in a long time. But despite the evident signs of hunger this one was clearly still strong and capable.

Askan would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. Not in that sort of way, as he was with his mate @Reyes , but he was curious nonetheless.

With that in mind, Askan gave the stranger a deep bark in warning, to inform him of his approach, and trotted ahead till they were standing at a conversational distance.

"You're not from around these parts, are you?" He asked-not quite conversationally-as though really he'd already come to his conclusion. He wasn't.

The man sniffed eagerly at the snow, weaving left and right with seemingly aimless swings of his limbs as he followed the invisible trail. The scent was getting fresher. The scat left in neat clusters along the way was no longer completely frozen. The lowlands went on seemingly forever, rolling endlessly out until the white edge of the land touched the sky above, and Mace could easily get lost in it if he allowed it. But he would not have to track the hare so far that he left the Lore altogether. He was grateful for that. In true Mace fashion, he feared he would leave the grand forest behind once more if he ventured out of it.

The wolf's tail bobbed with him at half-mast as he prowled along, plowing effortlessly through deeper patches of snow and slush with the aid of his heft and weight. In his eagerness to find the rabbit and sate his appetite, the man's jowls were slick with saliva and his breath came in pants that were equal parts fatigue and arousal. Another hour or two and he might find a fresh trail. The prospect was exciting to the lone wolf.

So when a voice rang out in a throaty bark, Mace's immediate reaction was to turn and bare his teeth. His ears flickered up and then down to the slope of his head as he momentarily warred with himself. He wrongly assumed that he was dealing with an adversary when he whirled around and spotted a strapping male wolf approaching him. They were similarly matched. Askan was perhaps a bit heftier, and he carried additional weight from being well fed. Mace's watery blues met gold in a fierce clash of masculine tension, but then they flickered away as he tried to decide how best to handle this.

He was fuelled a little by testosterone, a little by hunger, and a lot by a sudden warm flare of pride. Act confident and cocky to give the impression of overwhelming capability, he mused, or defer and hope it stays his fang? It was always the question when two larger male wolves came together. Not to say that smaller males weren't equally fierce or prone to sudden tension, but Mace wasn't as testy with smaller men. It didn't help that Askan's approach had distracted him from his hunt, and he was feeling particularly vulnerable lately what with the knowledge of Maksim's passing.

All this combined into a whirlwind of machismo, so when Askan voiced his question, Mace read into it all wrong. He imagined a judgmental tone where there was none, an accusation that didn't really exist, and his eyes narrowed marginally. Actually, he replied in a smooth baritone, I am. From around here was kind of vague, he reasoned. He was a Relic Lore native, technically speaking, and played off that now.

Askan didn't appreciate being growled at, and even though his knee jerk reaction was to respond in kind he resisted. Just barely. If the loner had lunged at him, or spat some sort of gritty insult he would have no doubt given the man a piece or two of his mind. But rather than finding outright aggression in his watery grey eyes there was only caution. The stranger wasn't looking for a fight, he was just making it clear that he would if he had to. Which was understandable, Askan supposed. After all, he couldn't fault a man for being willing to defend himself.

But that being said, it wasn't as though the man lowered his guard. What more did he want? Was he hoping that Askan would roll over and expose the line of his throat to him? That he'd drop down into a play bow and yell 'I'M FRIENDLY'? Because if he did then he was gonna have to go without.

For the most part loners weren't from his neck of the woods, they usually came from some distant land that the Guardian didn't care to learn about. So of course, Askan assumed that this guy would just be another link in the chain. That he'd have some sort of sob story that resulted in him leaving his home and coming to Relic Lore for a fresh start. But oh no, the Selwyn was wrong. Or at least that was what it sounded like, from the loner's vague, if not curt response.

"That so?" He asked, sounding more than a little dubious. By no means was he calling the man a liar, he just thought that his vague words left a lot to be desired."You saying generally or the north in particular? Cause you see I live around here and I like to make it my business to know who the neighbours are."

Could a loner even be considered a neighbour? Sure, they might settle in one location for a little while but for the most part they moved about, drifted so that they didn't step on anyone's toes. Was that what he was doing? Lingering for a while before he moved onto greener pastures? Askan squinted in thought and then as though to prove he had no interest in brawling-as things stood now, anyway- he glanced away at the rolling hills that guarded his home before bringing his gaze back to the dark loner.

The proverbial ball was in his court. What was he going to do with it?

Several strained seconds ticked by while the two men sized each other up. Discomfort wormed through Mace as he considered the steady yellow stare of the other wolf. His hackles threatened to prickle as he took a step, then another to the side, torn between pacing away to give himself room and circling his would-be opponent. He wasn't looking for a fight—or was he? The Attaya didn't even know the answer to that.

He was so conflicted. He blamed himself in part for Maksim's death. He blamed himself for not being around for the man in the end. Inna's words had grounded him briefly, but Inna was no longer around, and self-doubt swirled in Mace's breast in the absence of assurance. Across from him, Askan was a picture of confidence. He was well guarded, his defenses set almost casually, but well enough that the warrior in Mace faltered. This was a wolf who was either free of doubt or very good at putting on that mask. The exact opposite of how the Attaya heir felt, which made him prickly as a cactus.

Askan's question was met with a firm nod, followed by the slightest lifting of Mace's head, as if to acknowledge the fact. Then the Selwyn wolf clarified, and he rolled a broad shoulder as if to say, who really cares? North. South. He didn't know much about the tension between the two, or the fact that southern wolves tended to go north to escape their demons and vice versa. To him, the entire land was Relic Lore, one and the same.

Darkwater Rapids, he confirmed, half-expecting a flicker of recognition across Askan's face. Inna knew of Darkwater Rapids, and Maksim's family made their home not too far from here by her admission. Seemed possible that more wolves of the north might know of the history of the rapids as a result of their proximity to the Baranskis. Mace was just full of wrong conclusions, wasn't he? But your belief that others are your business, well, he went on, with a subtle curl of his lip, I can assure you it's a mistake to think you have any right to know mine. Up until this point, Mace had been beyond amiable with the wolves of the Lore, seeking information on those he had lost over the years.

But up until this point, he had been the one approaching. Well, except Ice, but the old white wolf had received Mace's forgiveness because he had saved him from the frigid water. Askan, however... well, Askan was the first wolf to come so directly up to him in a long time, and Mace had spent a lot of time among more savage wolves in the south. Those habits died hard, it seemed.

From the expectant look on the loner's face, Askan assumed that he was supposed to have at least heard about this pack. But no matter how much he rolled the name around in his head it just didn't ring a bell. And yet this stranger uttered it's name as though it carried weight, as though he held it in high esteem. Well, did he expect Askan to do the same? To respect a pack he'd never even heard of , let alone met any of their members? It wasn't as though he was a Darkwater wolf, after all he was clearly a loner. He might have been once, but he clearly wasn't one anymore. And honestly, the Selwyn didn't care enough to ask why.

"Never heard of it."Askan told him, as blunt as ever."Where is it?"

He had no plans on visiting their borders anytime soon but he figured at the very least he might as well try and remember where it was, in case he ever did head that way.

As for his bit of not so friendly advice Askan couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I wasn't asking for your damn life story, just wanted to know where you were from."

The Selwyn had little patience for hoighty wolves, but he was willing to let this slip, as long as he didn't insist on continuing being an arse. He'd been nothing but polite, or so he thought, and yet Mr here was being so damn prickly. Whatever, it wasn't any skin off his nose.

"I'm Wild Rye Fields Second and Guardian, Askan Selwyn." He told him, eventually. After all, he figured it would be best to lead by example. He had to show this loner how it was done, after all how else would he learn some manners?

Askan had him there, much to Mace's dissatisfaction. Darkwater Rapids was a very real place, but he couldn't recall its location. Try as he might, he simply couldn't hypostatize the hazy memory into a reality. He would find it eventually, but for now, he had no leg to stand on when it came to his claim. His shoulders visibly deflated from their lofty perch and his eyes turned to slits as he admitted in a clipped tone, can't remember.

He was clearly rankled by having been caught out on his shoddy memory. It showed in the way his ruff rippled with an agitated shudder of hackles, and the way his ears snapped out to the sides of his head. The swish of his tail was a little too choppy to be relaxed. Proud Mace was brought to heel on the matter of pride, and that struck a mortal wound to his ego. Askan deepened it by pointing out that he hadn't asked for the Attaya's story, and Mace's lips drew a grim line across his muzzle. No, he had to silently concede, you did not. It begged the question of what Mace was so damn worked up about.

But he could hardly go and pour out his soul to a complete stranger, could he? He couldn't very well tell Askan that he was frustrated about being unable to find his birthplace, and he certainly couldn't tell Askan that he was grieving the loss of a friend. In truth, Maksim and Mace had barely known one another, but the Attaya had idolized that man and put him on a sky-high pillar. The memories were therefore much fonder in his head than the reality, and how could he begin to tell that to a total stranger? A nosy one, at that.

The introduction came out of left field and snapped him back to the present. Mace snorted, but as he was already making a fool of himself by being so uptight, he acquiesced to Askan's attempted politeness. Mace Attaya, he said curtly, heir to Darkwater Rapids. Wherever that was. He would find it someday.

Askan looked on, curious, as the man's shoulders slouched. What? His questions were all perfectly valid and reasonable, he didn't see why he was getting all down in the dumps. Maybe the past was a touchy topic for him, but if that was the case it was hardly Askan's fault now was it? He'd only just arrived in Relic Lore...Almost a year to that day, how time had flew by. But that was aside the point wasn't it?

The stranger's-Mace's- words didn't quite make sense. He spoke with certainty as though they did, and perhaps that would fool a lesser wolf, but to Askan he just couldn't ignore such a blatant contradiction. If he did it would no doubt bother him to no end, like a itch that was out of reach no matter what he did.

"That doesn't make sense. How can you be an heir of somewhere you can't even remember?" He asked with a baffled squint.

It just seemed ridiculous to him. Now Mace seemed the reasonable sort, intelligent even, so then how could he utter such nonsense with ease? Did the pack exist or not? Because if it didn't then surely he couldn't be an heir and if it did then did he even deserve to take charge? After all he couldn't remember a damn thing about it, surely someone else would do a better job of taking the reins. Someone with memory perhaps.

Askan shook his head with an amused snort. He doubted Mace would like that, no one enjoyed being told they didn't deserve their birthright, even Askan hadn't enjoyed that talk. In fact, it was anything but pleasant. But oh well...

"You lost your memory or something? Hit your head a little too hard?" Maybe that would explain it, memories just didn't vanish after all.

Of course Askan didn't get it. The claim sounded ludicrous. Mace Attaya, heir to a pack that had long since washed away, whose location he couldn't even be sure of. Any wolf of sound mind would question his confidence on it, and yet the jet black Attaya was undeniably confident. After all, when he referred to Darkwater Rapids, it was his family he meant. It was the legacy, not the physical manifestation of it. The pack was long gone, but the legacy was still alive in him, and in Tinley, in Iyes. Even his siblings if they still lived.

So when Askan questioned him, and went on to suggest reasons why Mace would make such a ridiculous claim (namely: losing his mind), the flat of his muzzle wrinkled savagely and his eyes flashed coldly. His tail flagged once or twice in quick, agitated swipes behind him as he contemplated his next move. They would no doubt be evenly matched should he make it physical. His lifestyle might give him a slight edge, but it was impossible to know Askan's history. There was no saying whether the burly wolf opposite him had gone through similar training. Besides, Mace was a lone wolf who could hardly afford to be injured.

So instead he shot a grimace in the man's direction and said, it's really none of your business, so leave me alone, and turned his flank on the man. He wouldn't turn his back completely, lest the nosy stranger have some design on his life, but he'd reached his limit for undue questions about his life and his legacy. With a snort, he began stalking away, keeping Askan in his periphery as he went.