This was dangerous territory, the cavern pack lay only a little to the south, and surely this was part of their hunting grounds. But it was not marked land, no borders claiming it, which meant Orren had every right to be here; It's as close to us as it is to THEM! Besides, he doubted anyone would be out hunting today; the ground was uneven and slick, the wetlands still frozen in the last claws of winter, and one of the thick, icy fogs that had plagued the boy's first winter was hanging over it. He could hardly see two strides ahead, but that didn't deter him from continuing his brisk trek, paws moving incredibly securely over the rough ground. This was the shortest route to Willow Ridge, and if he wanted to get there and back before his breakout was discovered, he couldn't waste any time on detours.

Once again, the younger Baranski son had gotten too tired of his homeland to keep to the Cedarwood, his longing for adventure driving him from the territory of Cut Rock River, and out into the world beyond. And he had known where to go as soon as he left; he was intent on adventure, and he was not gonna chase it alone! Hopefully @Deacon would welcome him, and the opportunity to explore with another daredevil. He missed his dark comrade! I just hope he's home..! There was an excited grin on the black saddled lad's face as he marched on, pumpkin eyes ablaze with the thrill of defying the rules and exploring new lands.

The fog couldn't deter him, neither could the cold, or the ice beneath his paws, he was a hunter, he was a prince of The River! With glowing, marigold eyes, Orren made his way through the reeds of the marsh, tail waving high behind him. He was euphoric, his escape making giddy energy surge through his veins, this was the part his siblings couldn't understand - or at least Aleksei couldn't - the rush, the adventure! The copper pelted boy grinned to himself, nostrils flaring in the fresh, cold air.

That's when he caught the first whiff of scent and paused, one paw lifted in mid-stride. Ears swiveling in search of sounds, the mottled lad scanned the area with wide eyes, trying his hardest to see anything through the fog. He recognized the smell, which was now steadily filling his nose, its familiarity making his frozen tail resume its joyful wagging.

Eyes now narrowed, Orren continued his hunt for the other, a widening grin on his face. Did he see something there, crouching in the grass? Dark fur... "Deacon?!" The river prince called excitedly. Had he really been so lucky, that his friend had chosen to pay him a visit on this very day? Orren started dancing eagerly on the spot, waiting for the response. There was no doubt about it: that was the scent of Willow Ridge, and it was so like Deacons that it couldn't possibly be anyone else! And yet, there was something odd, something different from what the Baranski remembered, but it was so faint, he didn't bother with it.

A shadow appeared out of the tall grass, legs seeming to stretch forever before finally settling the stranger at a decent height. His fur was jet black, silhouette standing out clearly against the white fog and though his height was similar to that of the Baranski, his proportions were very different, slender legs supporting a narrow chest on a shorter body as opposed to the other boy's more boxy, robust frame. Definitely not Deacon..! Orren thought, surprised, orange eyes wide as he stared at the other pup. He was the same age, clearly, and he smelled the same; Well almost the same... That little difference became more and more apparent now. The fur was different too, darker and without the golden and silver accents. Then the boy spoke, two, hushed words and suddenly everything clicked; Brother, OFCOURSE! The scent of Willow Ridge, and of Deacon and his parents, and their last brother; Deacon had spoken of his siblings.

Getting control of his staggered expression, Orren offered the black lad a warm smile, tail waving energetically behind him. Now that he'd realized the truth, he could see the similarities between the two Archer-Layall's, though there might be many differences at first glance, many small details were in common between the brothers; Is it the same with me and Aleksei..? The river prince wondered absently. He wasn't overly fond of that idea, looking like his brother, but on the other hand, looking more like Alek would mean looking more like his father, and Orren didn't mind that as much. Blinking, he sought to meet the other youth's eyes, surprised to find them a clear silver, seemingly underlining the differences between this boy and his brother.

"You're Deacon's brother?" The Baranski said, more of a statement than a question, though he did expect an answer. Then, in a sudden fit of clarity, it occurred to the lively lad to not base this interaction on what he knew of Deacon; he certainly wouldn't like it if someone treated him like Aleksei. So, bowing his head politely, he attempted to address the boy, wiping a clean slate; "It's nice to meet you. I am Orren Baranski of Cut Rock River, you?" He tilted his head, looking attentively at the other with an open, curious expression; He never DID tell me much about them... He pondered, remembering his meeting with the other Ridge pup. So maybe it wouldn't be so hard to think of this boy as a new acquaintance.

The dark boy found a smile of his own, nodding back at Orren and giving a confirming answer. That much at least, the River prince understood, but the addition gave him pause. In the black lad's abridged speech, Orren didn't realize that the word he had spoken was his name. The brighter male furrowed his brows, head tilting as he tried to understand what the other was trying to say; Is he hurt..? The sound could have been an exclamation of pain, though the boy didn't seem to be wounded or looked sick or hurt in any way; he also hadn't yelled it, or moaned in a way suggesting he was in pain. So what then..?

At last, the copper tinted boy simply stared into his new acquaintance's silver eyes, an almost apologetic look in his own, wide embers. The Ridge pup had more to say though, tilting his own head and offering a question. It was when Orren heard the simplified way he asked, that he put the pieces together; "Oh!" He exclaimed, grin returning as he enjoyed his realization; "Your name is Grur!" He said excitedly, doing his best to reproduce the sound that he now understood to be the other prince's name. His tail wagged enthusiastically, the frustration of not understanding now gone, and he moved on swiftly to answer the question; "Cut Rock River lies west of here, in Cedarwood Forest not too far away!" He gestured with his black-crowned head towards his home, then went silent, waiting to see if the boy had understood everything he'd said.

He couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with the other pup, since he spoke like a 5 week old, despite being the same age as Orren. The Baranski knew little of the ailments that could afflict wolves - other than physical injuries, of which he'd already known many - that was Karina's field; maybe his observant sister would know what was wrong with Greer; He doesn't look like he's sick... As he had previously noted, the two almost-yearlings were of the same height, and though the ebony lad was more slender, and therefore even more gangly looking than Orren himself, he seemed properly developed. The multicolored boy shook his head lightly, whatever it was, there was nothing any of them could do about it, he figured, if it was treatable one of Willow Ridge's healers would surely have taken care of it. And now that the first confusion was over with, Orren was sure they would manage just fine despite of it.

Orren had never been the overly perceptive sort, his jaunty nature not just extrovert, but brash and even selfish to an extent. He wasn't mean spirited though, his temper often made him lash out towards his family, but in his heart he was good. That was how, standing one on one like this, the River prince noticed the change in his opposing age mate, though he wasn't immediately sure of the reason.  He was still looking at Greer with curious eyes, not even imagining that his stare could be the issue, after all, despite his frequent attempts at escapes for adventure, the boy had lived a very sheltered life and his experiences with disability, or any sort of abnormality, were limited. There was @Karina though. And suddenly it hit him: like his sister's weak eyes, the strange speech patterns of this, gangly boy might just be a particular oddity of nature, something setting him apart from others, but not necessarily behind; Karina's sight might be bad, but her sense of smell is brilliant! In other words, his way of thinking wasn't right, there wasn't something wrong with the ebony lad; Just different! He also remembered that, though he'd never teased his sister with her diminished sight, even mentioning it made her uncomfortable, so he had learned from an early age never to do so. Even for the mischievous middle brother, there was a line, and that was it!

So when Greer asked his question, Orren made an effort not to stare, and quickly answered in his enthusiastic manner; "Oh no, I met Deacon last winter when I wandered to the Willows on one of my trips!" He puffed out his chest a bit at the remark, playing up his adventures like they were everyday occurrences; he couldn't resist the temptation. "Actually I was on my way to visit him now, how is he?!" He continued, tail waving excitedly behind his back. As he talked he kept glancing around, orange eyes darting to his paws, the surroundings, the trees in the distance and then back to Greer, all in an attempt to not make the boy feel uncomfortable. To say that he overdid it would be an understatement, but he meant well, he didn't want the dark Ridge wolf to feel different; I know all too well what that's like...