[dohtml] src=http://lh4.ggpht.com/_SvwPAhUm8f8/TTYBeZuAlII/AAAAAAAABbY/DmHKWTSi2rA/icon_002.png align=right hspace=5>Carefully striding along the frigid waters of Heartleaf Creek, Borden Lyall found himself somewhere new. Somewhere back there he had lost Alexander’s markers and he had gone off-course from his usual patrol. He mentally scolded himself, he had been busy thinking of the coming of spring, the return of forest life, green things, and warmth that he had trekked off-course. His large paws halted in their tracks and he glanced over his shoulder at the tracks he had made in the snow and mud; he wanted to turn around and scurry back to all that was now unquestionably familiar, but he couldn’t will himself to move. Something was rooting him here. Whether it was something in his subconscious or something else he couldn’t entirely put his foot on, he wasn’t quite sure.


A thought about following the river further west brought him forward and he glanced down at his right forepaw in surprise. Each of its charcoal black claws dug into the hard earth, perhaps something within was telling him to investigate. Find something new. Bring something of interest back to the mountain to show his superior. He lowered his nose to the ground, sniffing the immediate area in front of him, but was hit with several scents at once. His head tilted curiously and one ear swiveled to the side as the other remained forward.


Raising his head up once more, he began to slowly edge back into the forest – backwards at first before turning fully and trotting away until the river was a good several meters away. He could still hear the water stirring loudly as though he were in it. The Plateau wolf wondered what he ought to do; if he returned now, he was sure Alexander would know where he had been. If he wandered further, he might find himself in trouble by stumbling into the other pack’s – the wolves of the River – land; he’d never come into close contact with one of them and he simply hoped he hadn’t trespassed.


Dumb, he finally thought as he realized he was just standing behind the trunk of a rather large tree. Stupid, stupid, stupid! His head shook and he growled to himself. The area was new, yes, but that shouldn’t mean that he should be scared of it or anyone who owned it. He marched back towards the creek and stood in it, his head raised high and his tail held out without fear. There. That shouldn’t have been hard to do. If anyone wanted to call him out, so be it; he really just wanted to take a good look at the place, completely memorize the place so he could add it to him mental map of Relic Lore.

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[dohtml] src=http://lh4.ggpht.com/_SvwPAhUm8f8/TTYBeZuAlII/AAAAAAAABbY/DmHKWTSi2rA/icon_002.png align=right hspace=5>Closing his eyes momentarily, he exhaled loudly. So, he was undiscovered for n--… He craned his head to the left, his pale gold eyes immediately focusing to the individual who had spoken. Her voice was quiet, and if he hadn’t been so intent on listening to everything and anything besides the steady gurgling of the frozen creek, he might’ve missed her three simple words. He studied her for a moment, eyeing her figure up and down, taking in her cream-hued pelt and the shades it took as it was dappled by the towering trees and early morning sunbeams.


Until her arrival, he had been expecting a hostile encounter with another being, a wolf or bear or anything else that stalked around in the forests and near the river. But, as soon as she appeared, his nerves calmed and his haughty streak was wiped away. The last thing he needed to do was to nearly scare off yet another lone wolf when he had no intentions in doing so. Assessing and assuming that she was not a River wolf and not looking for a fight, he slowly stepped out of the water and wagged his plume-like tail slightly. “Hello miss,” he replied.


To have been addressed as “sir,” even “good sir,” had taken him by surprise he had to admit; and, to acknowledge her without the same tone and respect, in a possibly unclaimed territory, was absolutely something he would not do. Watching as she seemingly folded back, he offered her a kind tone in his next question, “Are… Are you lost? Could I help you with something?”

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[dohtml] src=http://lh4.ggpht.com/_SvwPAhUm8f8/TTYBeZuAlII/AAAAAAAABbY/DmHKWTSi2rA/icon_002.png align=right hspace=5>Catching sight of her bared her teeth, his own fur bristled and he took a step back, his hind legs returning to the icy creek. He fought to keep a defensive growl contained in his throat, allowing her to rearrange herself and, finally, open her lips to speak again. His ears turned forward, tuning into her every word, expressing that he would not tolerate her cheekiness for long. She only requested for her location and packs. No small talk? Fine.


Looking at her as she stood before him, giving him a glimmer of a smile, Borden couldn’t help but to be forced into handful of emotions. She had taken him by surprise, like he had been a magician, showing her his best trick and discovering that he had not picked the card she had initially chosen. The spotlight had gone out. The hidden trap door had sprung open unexpectedly. The curtain had fallen because the knots hadn’t been secured... She had dealt him a card and, for once, it seemed a dying ember within that had almost been forgotten started to crackle and spark.


Using her request to ignite an array of possible answers, he looked away from her and withdrew any hints of hostility she had drawn out of him. He was fain to fulfill her request for information. His ears folded back in a nonchalant manner as he lifted his nose, glancing at her in the corner of his eye as she settled. “Heartleaf Creek,” he stated rather flatly, drawing up the name from faint markers he had picked up earlier.


By his father’s standards, he was properly addressing her as a rogue; her first impression was off-putting and she obviously didn’t need anything from him but names. No aid, no relief, no support whatsoever. A subtle grin settled about his features, “There is one pack that lives upon the mountain. That way.” He tilted his head curtly, gesturing over his shoulder towards where the Mountain of Dire stood behind the grove of dense trees. To tell her about the Swift River wolves was out of the question; if she wanted to know of them, she would have to seek them out, find them for herself. But for now, she had his company to gain or lose. “I know nothing more than that,” he said after a brief pause, turning around now to retrace his prints back the way he had come from. “If there is nothing else to be said, I will be going on my way, and let you be.”

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