All his life, Damascus had been moderately decent in the department of disappearing. If he had known the description and the name of the place he was wandering into, he may have found it funny. But he did not really hold any secrets, had never really been told any worth remembering or sharing, so the amusement in the name of the thicket he was wandering into would have been short. There had been no major event, tragic or otherwise cataclysmic that had sent him out into the world. He had simply wanted to go and had gone.

Working his way through a tangle of mossy, overgrown young trees and shrubs, the tawny wayfarer let out a sigh. This deep in the woodland, it was quiet and peaceful; music to his ears. Even though like all wolves, he was inherently social, it was sometimes nice to just simply explore and find what had to be found. For him, sometimes this was a viand sort of meal, a delicacy solely for himself (as he had no one to share it with in most cases), but today it was to see what would be saw. If he ran into company, then he ran into company.

And if he didn’t, well, that was just fine too.

If there was ever a change to be found in his surroundings, as in Relic Lore on a whole, Damascus would not have noticed it. There had been the thing with the water, but that was out of sight and out of mind for the time being. He had found other water sources. What he knew nothing about just yet were if it was home to any packs. He supposed that it had to be, given that it was clearly bountiful, and that there were wolves wandering around. He had seen those who wandered just as he did, but was certain that they had to congregate somewhere. But his exploration had revealed nothing so far.

A woof from his distant side grabbed at his attention instead. His toffee-brown eyes searched out the fellow canine just as soon as his ears had pinpointed from where the bark had come from, and he was quickly rewarded with the sight of a much lighter, fairer creature of the thicket. In the mesh of autumnal foliage and fast-fading greens, she was as white as the snow that would no doubt come to blanket them all in due time. He returned her call with a bark of his own, letting his bushy tail sweep out behind him in a friendly manner; his steps had come to a halt almost at the same time.

Seemed like company was on the agenda after all.

Her accent was something else, though least of all alluring. It was graceful, refined, and the one word he didn’t recognise -- Monseuir -- sounded antediluvian on its own. He watched as her snowy-white figure emerged from the thick wood, her dainty steps bringing her to him with the same grace and flair that he had thought of her voice. Imaginary or not, he now had the company that he hadn’t quite expected to encounter but was nonetheless welcoming of.

”Good afternoon,” he said to her as she came to a stop nearby, and of course as the two regarded one another with clarity. ”I am well, and yourself?” Well was a bit too generic, but he didn’t know what else to say. The only water he had seen since he had gotten there was gone and even with winter coming on he hadn’t seen a tremendous amount of others doing their usual wolf-y things. Hunting, playing, howling in the night.

But those were much too depressing to put onto the table, weren’t they?

He nodded to her words, because he had noticed the lack of water. It had seemed the deeper into Relic Lore he had gone, the less water there was entirely; waterways may as well have been as bone dry as the autumn grasses in the fields beyond them. It was an unfortunate development, but he hadn't given up all hope yet. There were still minor ways to find water to sustain themselves, though it was perhaps questionable, and maybe not even as appetizing as a babbling brook.

That aside, she introduced herself as Amélie, and he picked up on that accentual flair again. Curiosity flitted across his features for a moment. "What a lovely name," he commented lightly with a smile. "My name is Damascus, and I too, have not been in the company of another for some time. But I suppose it's the way for travellers like you and I, if it's safe to assume that we are of the same desire." They may have come across a wolf here or there, ranging from the polite conversationalist to the antediluvian warrior with chiselled features, but he thought he had been on the road long enough to find someone who was much as of a free agent as himself.

"But I must say, your accent is peculiar. Not in a bad way of course, but intriguing. From where have you come from, Amélie?" He chose his words carefully, only hoping that he would not brush across a topic better left alone. Not all travellers were out there of their own free will, that much he did know.

"It seems like quite an interesting story. At least not a boring one, I hope?" A small chuckle escaped him. His experience with humans was virtually non-existent. He had no opinion of them. But there were always stories, some speaking of them as friend and others as foe. But here he couldn't say if it was good or bad, what they were doing. Rehabilitating? It may as well have not even been a word in his vocabulary. "I'm afraid my story is not nearly as interesting. I was born and I live, and I travel. My own choice to do so, of course." He had never given much thought to what the rest of his family had done. There hadn't even been some exhilarating feel to leaving them behind.

But it was perhaps in the nature of the beast to actually break away to seek something more. He would have certainly answered her questions if she were to query, but the curiosity in him ran like an unmaintained fire. It was wild and it spread fast, just like the next question that came to the fold. "What brought you here today? I hope you weren't searching for water," came his next string of words, though much more sobered than his humoured self a moment ago. There was no water here, not even in the depths of the thicket, and though try as they might to avoid it, his mind was usually stuck in survival mode.