Turtleback Lake outskirts of paradise

all welcome -- he's in the forest between SF and the lake

He had gone north in search of food and his siblings. It had been weeks since he had last seen them, or caught a whiff of their scents, and he was beginning to worry. They had each other, he hoped, which eased some of his concern (but not by much). They were still unfamiliar with this feral land, just as Seven was, which meant it was likely that they had gotten turned around. What if they had not received information like he had and had gone west, down the opposite side of the mountain? He swallowed at the thought, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was possible, especially since their trails had skirted the woods where their uncle resided, along with the forest Seven now called home.

But he couldn’t leave the Shallows, not after Askan had graciously accepted him into his ranks. It made sense to stay in one place. If he kept moving around the Lore he doubted he would ever see his siblings again, or it would take weeks—maybe even months!—for them to reunite. If they decided not to return to the north—to the reserve.

He needed to remain positive, even though it was difficult. They would find him. They had to.

Continuing through the forest, the spider-legged yearling kept on his route north, his nose raised slightly in search of prey lurking within the trees. He was trying to make himself useful; to earn his place in the Shallows. He did not want Askan to think he was a freeloader and kick him out. The yellow-eyed Selwyn had been unaware of Seven’s existence until he showed up on his doorstep; just because they were family did not mean Askan owed him anything. Shared last names meant nothing if Seven couldn’t prove his worth.

He could see the glimmer of water in the distance through the trees, which meant fishing was a possibility. But he wanted to try to hunt something on dry land first before diving into the icy waters…

(This post was last modified: Jan 24, 2018, 07:36 PM by Seven.)

Her movements were languid – fluid, like the running river in her home. Her limp had almost disappeared completely, though on the more particularly cold days it became noticeable. Scar tissue still wound along her hind and limbs – the story of her mother’s death.. and if she was honest, the death of the old Lekalta. She had become introverted, choosing to not speak of the incident and had spent months healing. But he could not hide forever, and so the honeyed she-wolf trailed outside of the territory, seeking not just solitude from her pack mates, but for something to be of use – perhaps to seek out the migrating herds, or to pull any information that could be of use to either Lachesis or Lilya. She hadn’t expected to come upon another. She slowed her pace down as the wind changed its direction, offering the stranger’s scent to her. She came upon him shortly after, though she had not sought him out – and with a hesitant pause, she studied the male only a small distance from her. He was dark in coloration – though not as flawless as her sister’s coat. His eyes seemed duller as well – a gentle brown. They seemed kind, in nature – but Lekalta found herself cautious at any rate. Pausing, she considered what to do. She could stay and speak with him – when was the last time she had talked to anyone aside from her sister? Or.. she could slip away in to the darkness of the foliage – to remain hidden and out of sight.. something she excelled at quite nicely, these days. "Speech." ART COMMISSION BY mangycoyote

are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

It had been months since he had been a part of a pack and even then, it wasn’t the same as it was in the Shallows. Life had been too easy in the Reserve. He had not minded, for the most part, but it wasn’t exciting. Which was why he had been so eager to see the feral world, for he had always been curious of what was beyond the silver fence. Their mother had encouraged them, as she wanted a better life for her children. She had even shown them where their uncles had escaped—one by choice and the other by force.

The wolves were forgiving in the Reserve. Mostly because there was nowhere for them to go, but there were very few disagreements among pack members. Rules were followed. Tasks carried out.

But here he could be dismissed just as easily as he had been accepted.

A flash of pale fur caught his attention, causing his dark paws to skid to a halt as he glanced around nervously. His maw fell to the side as he struggled to get a better look at the stranger, his brows pinched tight. H-hello? He called out, his voice small and strained. Meeting ferals still made the boy uncomfortable even though he now lived among them. Avoiding them, however, wouldn’t help him, even if it was what he wanted.

He was intrigued by the female in the distance, for she carried the same scent that Lachesis and Oksana had. Was this another river wolf? His nostrils twitched. Maybe she was related to him?!

He spotted her – and his reaction pulled an arched brow from the she-wolf, noting his nervousness from more than just the stumbled greeting. She tilted her muzzle slightly, feeling a twitch in her ear as she considered simply leaving him there. The thought of talking to another – as if life was normal, when it was anything but, frayed at her heart and she gave a gentle lick of her lips. But she had come outside the borders with a purpose, and  pushing away her own heartache and nervousness, the golden she-wolf began to move forward, though her pace soft, so as to not further intimidate the black wolf. He was handsome in a way – the dark of his fur contrasting greatly against the snow-covered canopy of the ground. His eyes a brown – something about them seemed kind, but if Lekalta was learning anything, it was that she could not read others the way she had once thought she could. “Hey,” she offered then, her tail giving an idle flick as she gave a nod of greeting to the wolf. “You okay?” ART COMMISSION BY mangycoyote

are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

He almost expected her to ignore him and keep walking. Part of him hoped she would. But he knew he needed to be more social. Not just for his new pack but for himself. Break out of his bubble and push the limits of his comfort zone. Prove to himself, and his new leaders, that he wasn’t a useless bag of bones. That he could actually be of use to the pack and that his relation to Askan wasn’t the only reason he’d been accepted.

You okay? His nose twitched at the question. Was there a reason he shouldn't be okay? His maw tipped to the side, his brows pinched tight in confusion. Yeah, he responded quickly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I think so, anyway, he added with a lazy shrug. A little nervous, maybe, but he was always nervous when he encountered ferals. Seven never knew how they would react, or how he should react. His mannerisms were still a little soft due to his life on the reserve.

Are you okay? He countered with a mischievous smile, his tail sweeping behind him as he lowered his defences to show he was of not threat to her. 

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity