Aleksei pulled his head from the mangled tree roots with a sneeze, snorting an exhale to dislodge dirt and debris from his nostrils. He had thought something potentially edible had been hidden down there. Instead, he was met with nothing but spiders and pill bugs. This scavenging trip had been anything but fruitful, and the young River prince was growing desperate to bring something back to his mother. He had questions of all manners which he was desperate to ask, yet the one at the forefront of his mind was something he had overheard his father talking about; siblings.

Turning away from the particular tree, and glad to have his back to it now at that, the Baranski gave a moody little huff. This damned mist wasn't helping him any. Every little nook and cranny he looked under contained nothing but squelchy, damp mud (that was now caked upon his nose and chin)! Giving another few sniffs to the air, desperate to isolated the scent of some tasty little morsel, Aleksei began to follow his sniffer once more, completely oblivious to anything but the smell he was focused on: food.

And so when the gruff voice of another wolf called out in question, he was more than a little surprised.

The tawny wolf clumsily turned, tilting his head. Unable to see anyone, the maturing boy was left puzzled. Who exactly had said that, and where were they standing? A fleeting thought passed through Aleksei's mind: had he encroached on another pack's borders? As much as he had succumb to a scent-fueled tunnel vision, the River prince knew he simply wouldn't stumble over the lines of another's territory. He wasn't like Orren; he wasn't reckless. He was sure that this place was no-man's land. "Aleksei Baranski, sir." It was obvious from the tone of the stranger's voice that it was a male who was questioning the lad--best to address them as such, he supposed. "I'm not disturbing any pack's border, am I?" Ever the polite brother, Alek tried his best to appear respectful ... but as far as he could ascertain, this was neutral land; he would not bow in submission yet.

A figure came sauntering towards him, cloaked in dark fur with one twinkling, golden eye that seemed to cut through the mist and the fog that shrouded the wolves. Frowning a fraction, Aleksei lifted his chin a smidge. He didn't like the way the older man held himself, with his tail held high, as if he were better than the youth. Did the stranger not know how to properly address the rightful heir to a pack?

Having said that, was the lad really in any position to dictate to an elder how he should be presenting himself? No. He decided to hold his tongue, even if he was left with a sense of frustration at being unable to assert himself as dominant in this situation. Then again, did other packs really care for the hierarchy of other families? The etiquette of cross-pack relationships was one lost on the learning prince. Perhaps, to whatever packs lay beyond the borders of Cut Rock River, the name Baranski meant nothing. It was almost hard to believe.

At least his worries about crossing a border were put to rest, the snake-like wolf smoothing away that niggling sensation of fretting. Instead, though, it was replaced with more irritation. Simply a loner then, who thought himself the king of this neutral territory. It seemed pointless--why would anyone attempt to assert any kind of dominance when they stood alone? Natural instinct to reassert some semblance of normality to the situation kicked in and the young Baranski's own tail stood proud as the loner questioned him once more.

"My family and I are the founders and lead family of Cut Rock River." Not technically true for Aleksei--whilst Maksim, his father, had claimed that territory, and birthed the River pack, Aleksei himself had not even been conceived at the time. Despite that, he wanted there to be some power behind him. Some subtle way to alert the older wolf that he wasn't talking to a pack subordinate. "Could I question you for your name, sir?" Alek gave a slight tilt of his head, yellow-green gaze never leaving that one burning eye.

The mention of food reminded Alek what exactly he had come here for. He gave a slow nod. "I was looking for something to take back to my mother. I wouldn't be against splitting the reward if you lent a set of teeth to the task of bringing something down, though." Perhaps he was pushing his luck a tad too far with such a request ...

Kjors Sorenson. An interesting name, one that seemed to fit the darker male nicely. Aleksei would most certainly have to remember it. Despite the unease the youngster felt around the one-eyed timber initially--which proved to be nothing more than simple nerves--, the River prince was content in his company. Especially now as the silent dominance stand-off faded, both males settling into a rather neutral stance. He was his father's son, after all. What Baranski cowered in the face of danger? And yet ... "The One-Eyed Dragon?" The lad furrowed his brow a fraction. He had been told tales of dragons by his mother and father, monstrous and scaly beasts with wings like a bat's and teeth sharper than cut ice. His curiosity had been piqued; how had a wolf achieved a name like that? For a moment, the younger wolf worried.

What if this man was monstrous inside? Internally, Alek shook his head and attempted to shrug away that little pang of re-emerging distrust. It was pointless to jump to conclusions. After all, to the wolves of Kjors' homeland, a dragon could in fact be a noble thing. The tawny boy tilted his head slowly, ears pricking and nose twitching as the black and white male began to trot off. The prince could only presume that he was agreeing to the terms of sharing a kill. With a quick jog, he caught up to his current company just as he was alerted to the fact there was a group of deer in the vicinity. Spirits be praised! What luck!

Lowering to a crawl, he edged up beside Kjors with a nod of his head. The plan left him a little nervous. He had never hunted something this big without at least a member of Cut Rock River by his side, and so part of him saw this task as daunting ... and yet that ambitious burn in his chest screamed at him you can do this.

"No pro'lem 'fer two grown males, aye?"

Oh. Aleksei certainly liked that. Being referred to as a grown male, not a youngster or a cub. "Alright," he murmured quietly, won over by the possibly unintended compliment, "We need to get closer though, right? I can smell them, but ..." He eyed Kjors for a moment through the brume of the forest. "That's not good enough."

Ambitious he may be, but reckless was something that Aleksei was most certainly not. He needed a plan, needed to have things run smoothly like a well-oiled machine; no hiccups. The two wolves began to shuffle away from one another, Kjors leaving the youthful Baranski with one last snippet of information: do not flank to his right. That much was obvious--the ugly, ragged scar that tore across his face clearly resulted in the man having no eye. Still, the lad nodded with a quick verbal acknowledgement. "Understood." Immediately after, he began to slink across the forest floor, each foot placed with tentative precision and care. He didn't want his first hunt outside of Cut Rock River's territory to be a flop on his part.

It didn't take him too long to circle around the deer and he popped his head from the undergrowth nervously, just to get a look. It seemed the older male had been correct: there was, indeed, a young fawn. Disappearing back into the scrubby vegetation, Aleksei took a deep breath, an attempt to calm his nerves. He could do this. He was a prince. He was the eldest. He had to set a good example, even if neither of his younger siblings could see. He had to make them proud. Prove to Karina there was nothing to fear, show Orren that it was good to listen ... he had to. He would. He could!

Alek leapt from his hiding space with a bark and a snap of his jaws, doing his best to emulate his teachers and parents. Throwing himself forward, he tried to squeeze between the mother and child, but the deer were quick to begin fleeing and all Aleksei could do was try his best to steer them towards the One-Eyed Dragon. "Kjors! They're coming!" The youngster was excited, and simultaneously petrified that he'd messed this all up somehow.