October 30th; Early afternoon; Cloudy, light drizzle; 45° F/7° C

Keeping close to the scent markers he had re-established in the past few days, Mapplethorpe meandered along the invisible fences using both sight and smell to ensure he had taken every inch of his territory into account. If the cubs were going to continue to test their superiors' borders, the least he could do was at least establish just where and how far they had wandered. Beside a dead tree and along a flat rock, up against a crooked scrub pine tree and across a flat expanse of chilled, dame grass and hard-packed mud, the Queen's Consort left his mark: scent gland secretions, urine, pockmarks in the ground from his nails and paw pads, and even bits of tawny fur. Anything to make sure that rogue wolves and wanderers from distant places, were not welcome here.

Once along his path, he stopped to catch a breath, to survey the land and find comfort in knowing that the stretch of land he was examining was void of larger predators. He lowered his head to the dying grass at his feet at the foot of the mountain range, his leathery nostril flaring as he inhaled deeply. Nothing. At the back of his head he began to wonder if heavily marking the pack's borders were keeping the migratory deer herds well away from utilizing the Pass as a thoroughfare to the other side of the Mountain of Dire. Absentmindedly, he wiped a paw against the sod, not that it helped (he was more than aware that all four of the bottoms of his paws carried his signature cologne) but it would be the only other prominent marker he would make along his beat.

He straightened up again quietly, lifting his tail and ears in utmost vigilance. His goldenrod irises fled to the side upon thinking he had heard a deer nearby, his gaze settling on a cluster of yellowing hedges that was just as still as the rest of the foliage around him. Perhaps it was just the wind picking up or the rain picking up in intensity. He couldn't be sure, but one thing was for certain, everything that had happened and realized in the past week - the rains steadily falling, the maturity level of the cubs under the pack's care, the wintery chill in the air, and the scarcity of the prey he usually caught for the pack's numerous caches - had him on edge.

Strained eardrums readily picked up the eager sound that came from somewhere behind him and Mapplethorpe threw a glance over his shoulder. He stopped abruptly in mid-step. Upon first glance the dark-coated pup attempting to catch up with him had been mistaken for the silver-touched princess that was Aponi, but a second look - noting how the youth moved and how top-heavy he seemed to be up close - easily corrected his initial assumption. The triangular forms atop his skull came forward and his brows lifted. If anything at all, the masked man had always had a mind to look for the boy if only for a lesson or two rather than the other way around. The wary tail at his back lifted in a suspicious wag.

He let out a gruff bark in return, the reciprocated noise beckoning the boy to catch up. His right forepaw finally planted itself firmly into the ground and it was with expectant eyes that he watched Mercy come forward through the rain. Whatever the youngster had wanted from the Queen's Consort, Mapplethorpe was quite uncertain with just how easily he would grant his request. But, if it was the older man's company he had wanted, Mapplethorpe decided that it possibly better than having Sagacity's ward wander off on yet another adventure on his own. He would oblige.

When Mercy had come close enough, he gave him a curt nod. "Good day," he began, an inkling of uncertainty trickling into the tone of his voice as he slowly enunciated his greeting. "What is it?"

The boy drew closer, obedient and eager as he closed the distance between them. His greeting was exchanged with a salutation that was both respectful and reverent, something that Mapplethorpe easily appreciated. The boy answered that he had been checking the caches, taking an inventory of what they had and which commonly used reserves could be refilled. The Consort nodded once more, thoughtfully this time as the boy continued to say that he knew that there was a food stash just up ahead. Good, he noted. The kid had a knack for memorizing places... Perhaps one day he would be running alongside his mother or proving to be a valuable asset with a role-ready skill set not yet present within he pack.

Mercy also added that he wanted to catch up with the older man and that he kept an eye on him; it made the agouti-pelted man raise a brow. Usually Mapplethorpe was the one wanting to seek the Crowchild out and watch him from a distance when given the chance. "Hmm," he sounded, amusement evident in the notes that vibrated through his throat. "Oh, I assure you I'm always doing something," he confided in the lad, his smile broadening mid-sentence into the rare sight of a grin. "If the Queen has no use for me or hasn't ordered me to rest, I always have my eyes, ears, and nose open." He moved forward in one fluid motion before continuing his beat around their borders, expecting Mercy to follow suit and possibly run ahead to show off to his superior his ability to relocate the cache he had referred to.

A trace of a smirk threatened to play along his lips but what came through instead was the playful smile that the boy had been after to begin with. "If you keep that up you just might have me running around to keep my place," he simpered. "Perhaps one day you'll make a fine Scout like your mother." At the mention of Sagacity, the tilted his head slightly in order to catch the youth's facial expression. "How has she been anyway? Busy, no doubt...?"

Upon hearing that Sagacity was doing well, the Nomad Leader dipped his muzzle once to acknowledge the fact. Truth be told, it had been ages - or, more accurately, months - since he and the Scout had seen one another. It had usually been assumed that Naira was the one who communicated directly with her, allowing Mapplethorpe to have one less individual to deal with. It stirred within the aging man a curious sort of satisfaction as he noticed how Mercy swelled with pride. It only made sense, he supposed, if anyone lent him their compliments towards his parents, or grandmother, surely, he would have been so grateful to have known them... even descend from their very bloodline.

As the boy shook the hesitance from his words, Mapplethorpe's ears perked as Mercy voiced that he would have hoped to be considered as a pack Hunter. Well, now, that was new. Hmm. The corners of the man's mouth angled upward and for a moment he eyed the lad over. Already Mercy was showing the makings of a large, though somewhat willowy and agile, specimen. Whoever had left the youth behind by the means of a fatal accident had definitely suffered quite the loss... but in light of their loss came Sagacity's, Naira's, and even Mapplethorpe's gain. "A Hunter could be a good fit for you, too," he noted, the warm tones in his voice still palpable in every syllable.

"You have your whole life ahead of you," he added, still casually advancing along their territory borders. "Your yearling days, even... but even then I don't see a problem in your desire to become a Hunter. Actually..." He paused in a way that could have been considered dramatic, but, really, he had taken a moment to think, "I don't think Naira and I have appointed one yet. I'm sure you can ask Chulyin or Faol though. Maybe even Crowe. I'm sure they have enough experience to get you started on your way." He stopped briefly to give the silver-haired boy yet another smile, wholeheartedly wanting to encourage him further. "It's all about knowing how to track," he apprised. "How to read the trails, when to move and when to stop and listen, and knowing how to rely solely on your instincts and instincts alone."

The tail at his back had lifted in a genial wave that swung about in the midst of their lighthearted conversation. "Where I come from, we call it, honos lupum. Honoring oneself... The wolves we are by nature."

The boy was thankful, and for that Mapplethorpe was appreciative of Mercy for being good company. What was even better was that Sagacity's ward was even preparing himself accordingly, announcing to the Leader that he had been practicing with Crowe, particularly the techniques involved with utilizing a 'stealth and ambush' approach. As he watched Mercy stalk along at his side, he stopped when the youth abruptly changed direction and waited for him to return before giving him another approving nod.

"Good," he commended, wholly impressed by now. The Queen's Consort was about to start moving again when Mercy decided it was his turn to bestow upon his superior some praise, "Sounds like you've had a lot of training in that area..."

"Not particularly," he quickly admitted.

"What was it like when you were growing up?"

Ah, there it was. The curiosity, the wonder, and the undeniable conversational curve ball. Mapplethorpe had to take a second to realize that perhaps Mercy's sudden interest in his past was not at all a bad thing. After all, not very many, save for Naira and Taima, knew where he had hailed from and what his life was like before coming to Relic Lore. "Well," he started, pausing long enough to thoroughly think his answer through. "If you're asking me, I was just like you. Almost, but not quite." While he had enunciated certain parts of his answer, he wanted to establish a connection with the boy, but at the same time wanted to keep their worlds separate. Mercy, in all actuality, was adopted into the pack, while Mapplethorpe had the misfortune for being born into a matriarchal hierarchy. They were hardly the same, but at some points still had some similarities.

He slowly sat down, a hint towards the fact that he could very possibly have a lot to tell, depending on what Mercy was specifically curious about. "I'm not from here," he revealed, "I came from the east, a place called Vigilate Keep." He made sure to look and point with his muzzle away to the lands opposite of the mountain, "and I also had sisters who were just like Aponi and Nova. Four of them." A grin settled along his snout, curious to discover how Mercy felt about that... If he thought he had it bad with just Aponi picking on Nova, Mapplethorpe, himself, practically had two Aponi's and two Nova's picking at him as their middle-born brother.

"Should consider yourself lucky," he half-chortled. "You just have the two girls to worry about."