Mountain of Dire My ears can hear and my mouth can speak

The squall had come on suddenly, and the little warning she'd had beforehand had barely been enough to find shelter. The foot of the mountain held no caves for her to hide in that she could find, but a rocky outcropping had been hollowed enough to provide a buffer on three sides. Fortunately, the concave portion of the rock faced to the north, and the wind was blowing from the east this time, so while the snow occasionally flurried around the wall, it didn't get the chance to pile up on her. As soon as Undertow spotted the little miracle of a shelter, she rushed for it and curled up as tightly as she could as close to the wall as she could manage.

That didn't stop the cold from biting into her, though, and it was such a familiar ache that fear quickly settled into her heart. Any sense of warmth was both chased, and suspected; was she getting sick again? Had the fever returned to claim her life in truth, this time, instead of just ruining everything? Or had she simply managed to retain enough heat to survive through the storm? The questions chased themselves in circles through her head, round and round until Undertow thought her skull would break open. She wasn't even aware of the whines and whimpers escaping her throat, the way her teeth chattered ever so slightly while wild eyes darted over the snowy landscape in an unseeing frenzy.

There was no mist, today. The wind blew too heavily for any scent to find her, but the lack of colors she had come to expect still had her feeling blind and helpless. There was no way to see if anyone was coming, for her; or at least, no way she would be able to trust. Although at that thought, she had to pause; after all, she couldn't trust the mist, either.

She couldn't trust anything.

It had been years since Chan had last climbed the range's highest peak. So much had been going on since his return to the Lore that it certainly hadn't been a priority, but as things at the Lake appeared to be settling into perfect place, the eldest Eastfall child found himself returning bit by bit to his adventurous ways. Of course that would land him in a dangerous situation.

The winds and the ice they whipped up were a familiar threat to the mountain-born wolf, and he knew that sheltering until they relented was his best option to not be felled. It was possible they wouldn't even find him, up here where the snow drifted so high. They'd think he just wandered off again, chose to leave them once more. The thought bothered him, and that bothered him too. Since finding his way back, discovering the strife his family had endured while he was gone, working to actually build something here, making friendships that might actually last more than a season, Chan was becoming... sentimental, in a particularly painful way.

Getting older was shitty.

The whistling wind pitched into whines, and Chan froze as he thought for a moment that the weather was shifting in an unprecedented way. Then, as the sound continued, fading in and out, he had to wonder if it was the wind at all. He pressed through the endless curtain of ice and snow, trying to locate what it was. Within moments, shapes began to form. At the least, it was shelter, a space to escape winter's fangs and maybe better focus on what he was hearing. Then he saw dark amber eyes flash.

Chan broke into a run, bounding over the last few drifts that stood between him and whoever it was huddled against cold stone to elude the storm. He stopped with only a yard or two between them, urgency in his eyes. He hoped the stranger wouldn't be hostile.

"We can keep each other warm," he offered, speaking loudly only so that the wind would not steal his words away from their ears.

More than anything else in that moment, Undertow missed having someone to curl around, or to have curled around her. Shared warmth seemed so, so nice, as the snow piled higher and the wind continued howling. She was becoming more certain, as well, that the terrible fever that had taken her before really was making its reappearance. Maybe the storm didn't exist at all; maybe she'd lost more than her senses. There were voices reassuring her that she would survive through the storm, a feeling like nuzzling in the back of her neck, but Undertow couldn't see anything, couldn't smell anything, and she knew, she knew it wasn't there. She took comfort in it anyway.

The figure bounding through the snow in front of her couldn't possibly be real, either. For one thing, her eyes could barely lock onto them--they were too busy rolling in her head, twitching involuntarily towards darker shadows and following the curve of swirling snow--and he made no sound as he approached, not that could be heard over the voices. The green mist wafting off of him didn't help at all, as much as the wind snatched it away before it could become a cloud; before her nose could properly scent him. When his approach continued past the point she'd expected, however, and he stopped only a yard away, she managed to force her eyes to focus on him and him alone for a few moments. Long enough to register pale tawny fur and a smaller frame than her own before they were rolling in her head again.

The tremors wracking her body were barely felt but quite visible from an outside perspective, and she stared at him in short intervals, looking at him and away again and again, almost maniacal as it finally began to register that he was real. That he'd spoken, even, though her ears barely registered it over the wind and...everything else. Warm; oh, moon above, she would love to be warm.

It took an effort to shuffle a little to the side in a sort of 'making room' invitation, turning her head away slightly so that her gaze could roam over the snowy hills behind the stranger, as though he could take or leave the invitation. If he knew she cared maybe he would disappear into the ether once again; better to give him space, in case he wasn't real. It had been a while since she'd last talked to anyone--or...had it? Either way, she immediately regretted her first words, ears flattening a moment after they escaped. "I'll only bite you if you start it."

Her mate would be ashamed. She'd been civilized, once; she could do better than that. "Uhm. Undertow."

Better...?

As Chan watched the other wolf react, more or less, to his presence, he worried that they were in the throes of hypothermia. While it was just as likely that this could be just as life saving for himself, he felt even more urgency out of concern that the stranger was about to slip away completely. The slightest of invitation was taken up swiftly, and he slipped forward to huddle against both the bluff and the fellow refugee beside it.

Comfortable with touching others, he did not hesitate to press his side firmly against hers. The few inches height difference did nothing to impede him from hook his throat overtop the back of her neck and pulling her close, so long as she didn't resist him; she needed warmth as quickly as possible. He hoped what little he had to share would be enough.

Her remark, meanwhile, made him chuckle. At least she had her whits about her, and her voice didn't sound exceptionally strained or shaken. Hopefully she was in better condition than he thought, and they would just tiptoe around tragedy this time.

"Fair enough. I'm Chan. Was anyone with you?"

Oh. Oh. As soon as he took her invitation and pressed up along her side, unashamedly curling close for warmth and pulling her in with his head over her neck, Undertow went still. Even her tremors stopped for a moment, and her fur stood on end with an electric tingle. Then she burrowed closer to him, and the shivering got worse as she tried to figure out how to deal with the first real touch she'd had since her illness. Her eyes were wide and a little wild, but she curled into him like a desperate pup, hooking her own chin over his back and trying to encompass him as much as her extra bulk would allow.

He was so warm. More solid than anything she remembered. When he laughed her ears trembled, and she felt entirely overwhelmed; if the storm hadn't prohibited it, she might have bolted from the sheer swell of sensation. As it was, she managed to turn so she could actually look at him while they spoke, even if it was just out of the corner of her eye, and while most of her was thoroughly shaken--just from being close to someone else; she'd feel pathetic about that later--something else in her brain seemed to settle and focus at last.

Had there been anyone with her? Only the ones who were always there, but she could tell easily now that they'd been as ethereal as the wind. She still hesitated a moment, uncertain, and her words were accompanied by a tiny shrug. "No, I think I'm on my own...It's lucky you found me, Chan. Thank you."

Then another thought occurred, and Undertow asked, "Did you? Have someone? Should we..."--be looking for them, get up, go out into the howling storm. She wasn't sure exactly how to finish the question.

Chan was relieved that she returned the embrace, melting into the warmth the other wolf provided. It was almost enough to make the shivering stop completely, but of course the other half of him was still open to the mercilessly frigid air. Still, he felt far more confident that he would be able to outlive this storm, and hopefully that meant the stranger would too. 

"Lucky for us both," he returned with a smile small; she may very well be saving his life as well.

"No. I am looking for someone but," his mismatched eyes cast outward toward the curtains of snow whipping with the storm's rage, "... hopefully they've missed this by a few days."

"Where were you headed?"

"Yes, hopefully. Or they found better shelter than this," Undertow mused, curling a little closer to him as the wind howled beyond. Her ears twitched away from the voices calling for her; that way lead only death.

"...Nowhere in particular," Was the answer to the other wolf's question, spoken after a moment's hesitation as Undertow tried and failed to come up with a good way to explain her situation more concisely. "I'm looking for someone, too, but...I don't know if they're here." The mist had lied to her in the past; what if she'd never been following their scent at all? Undertow couldn't bear the thought.

"I just keep picking a direction," She admitted a little more freely. "I can keep an eye out for you, as well. Are they gree--do they smell like you do?" Quickly interrupting the question she'd almost asked, turning her eyes away in hopes he wouldn't notice her slip up. Or question it, if he did. They were saving each other's lives; if he asked, she felt almost obligated to tell him.

The answer wasn't so odd to Chan; he'd given it himself plenty of times. Looking for someone, however, that drew his attention. Maybe he could help, had seen then at some point. Weirder coincidences had happened, especially given how far and wide his paws had taken him over his years. That she offered the same kind of assistance without his going first made him smile with gratitude.

"Probably not anymore. Neha Vuesain is her name, she's got agouti fur, cream and gray with brown eyes. The wolves at the Cove just wanna know that she's safe."

Even if all Undertow could do was pass on that message, it would be more than Chan had any right to hope for. 

"What about your wolf?"