It was such a rarity to see the large beast from the Ridge pack lands, and yet his rush to settle before the long winter months spread across the land had meant his exploration of the land they called Relic Lore had been limited. This exploration was not just of his own gain however, for the ivory wolf was sure to keep his eyes and nose trailing a lone male elk. He had yet to come across the potential victim of Willow Ridge’s next pack hunt, but that did not deter him.


He came to the thicket with apprehension. The thickness of the brush ensured that he would likely not find his prey within its depths, yet that was not a certainty. Lifting himself up, the ivory male allowed his claws to rake the bark of a tree, leaving a prominent scent. With that, the Argyris wolf slipped in to the woods, his eyes raking over the wooded area with intrigue.


The gentle murmur of another came to him before her scent or the sight of her. The pause in words before a repetitive response caused him to hesitate momentarily. Crouching lower, the large male crept forward, the words becoming more clear as she came to view now – the dark of her fur mingling well within the brush. He listened, her words came, again and again, and he blinked. He could not leave her to this fate, and clearing his throat, Phineas slipped forward, his muzzle lowered non-threateningly as he gave a gentle ‘wuff’ in hope that she would not balk at his presence.

He studied her – the cautious way she held herself now as she in turn regarded him back. Her thoughts were unknown to him, but he could not help feel that there was something off about the she-wolf before him, even without taking in consideration the words she had repeated before he had interrupted her chant. His muzzle swung slightly lower in a brief nod of greeting, his tail swaying nonplussed behind him as his gaze settled upon her cheek rather than directly to her own eyes.


Of course, her mantra and behavior became more clear as she introduced herself, and Phineas found himself giving the she-wolf a confused blink. He had never heard of such a thing – memory loss – though it would appear he would soon become far more accustom to such a fate, given his leader was about to suffer the same illness as the girl before him. “Phineas,” he offered, his tone giving way no inclination of his own weariness to this meeting now. “You’re in a land called Relic Lore. I am uncertain of what the inhabitants call this specific territory.. I come from a pack South of here.” He paused in his words, soon falling silent, uncertain of what was expected of him, given this stranegr had no recollection of anything but her calling.