Fireweed Rise Return of the Ashes

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/AshTable.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 250px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">He had finally been accepted. . .he now had an official family. He was with his mate, his sister was now out of his mind, and hopefully, soon, he could become an official Guardian of Poison Path. It was one of his goals in the future. But today he had other plans. It was time to return to the place where he had attacked his sister and left her for dead. His massive paws stepped heavily on the ground with each coming breath, his eyes blazing in anger for himself. He had done it all due to an oath he had given to his father. And as it turned out, his father had been completely wrong about Nina. She was a sweet little angel who helped others more than she helped herself. She was all act and no think when it came to protecting others.

The sweet scent of flowers covered his nostrils as he entered the clearing, and his eyes took in the beautiful clearing. . .a clearing he had used to try and kill his sister. His head lowered and eyes closed as he breathed in the marvelous scents that filled the area around him. His shoulders rolled back as his head lifted again and his jaws parted, letting out a large yowl of regret to the sky. He felt terrible about what he had done, and the only thing that was stopping him from leaving was the pack and Treena. He would have done anything for them and that was the price that he would have to pay. It seemed though . .that if his father came down Treena would be in deep trouble as well. His father couldn’t see Treena around him and by his side. It would mean that Treena would have to be murdered by another too. . .and Ash would never allow that to happen to his beautiful friend, ever.

<blockquote>How long had he spent here? It seemed as though it had been nearly a week, though surely it had only been a couple of days. There had been that encounter with that other wolf and then nothing more than leisurely hours spent rolling in the wake of red. It was a different red then he was used to. And while it didn’t contain the excitement of his past antics, it was replaced by a relaxtion that he parralleled with the other. It was softer, slower, and rather enjoyable, even if it carried no dramatic turn of events. Already his chosen spot amidst the flowers had worn a patch at the corner of the field. Flowers lay flattened and the green hollow of stems was folded into the landscape. Upon approach, it would have been obvious that a larger creature had spent time there. What with the small tufts of hair here and there and a faint trail through the flowers that ended abruply at the edge of the field.

It wouldn’t do to spend much longer here, however; while he hadn’t made any great attempt to hide his presence the those of his own species, the consequence was that the creatures of prey were all too well aware of him as well. They stayed away from the corner of the field where he had set up camp, and should he stay for much longer, hunting was going to become unnecessarily difficult. Besides, he could feel the slow creep of restlessness in his bones and he was willing to to nip it before it developed much further. Still… one more stroll through the pretty little meadow couldn’t hurt… right?

His shifted himself and began to rise from his small hollow of stems when a wrenching call broke out over the clearing. He started in such away that he jerked slightly and then was immediately still, eyes snapping forward as he sought out the sound of the noise amidst his half reclined half rising position.

He stood, jaws raised to the air at the end of his call, on the other side of the field. He was still quite a distance from where Artuo was. While Artuo was curious of the nature of the call, which was obviously not one of an open nature from what he could sense from the tone, he wasn’t interested in inturrupting the moment for the wolf.

Curiosity had always burned in Artuo. It was something in his nature that he hadn’t ever learned to control and the gauge of his interest increased with the less information he had. He shifted his position now, sliding back down into a laying position so that the wolf could have a moment to recover himself and even more so to give Artuo a moment to collect just how to handle the situation. And so he waited for the other to make a move, whether that be wandering over in discovery of Artuo’s location, continuing his cries, or moving off into another location that was much more private. All the while, he kept his eyes slightly averted from the scene as to not be seen as an unecessary eavesdropper, though close enough on the figure that it would keep the wolf within sight. </blockquote>

OOC: May I say, you are a fantastic RPer.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/AshTable.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 250px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">His call was interrupted by another, and a scent soon trailed its way into his nostrils, making them flare slightly. So much for his peaceful day of mourning for what he had done. His paws brought him forward, his large muscles rippling under his pelt as he made his way forward. Climbing the mountains had a wonderful effect on his bulk, making him look bigger than he originally had and his form had become even more handsome then he had previously been. Not that he wasn’t being modest or anything, he was just thinking the truth. He would never have spoken that out loud, for he surely would have laughed at the words if they were ever to be spoken.

His approach was cautious, just as it had been with all of the wolves he had met. The scent told him easily that the male was not from any pack that he knew of, so for the time being, Ash easily classified him as a lone wolf. His chest rumbled as he cleared his throat in a polite way before his jaws opened, his deep voice echoing strongly throughout the empty clearing, "Greetings, sir." He remained unsure of why this man was here, for the last wolf he had met had been a curious young gentleman, who just asked too many damn questions at the time.

<blockquote>He lay there, cradled in the blades of grass, watching the other male as he all too soon became aware of Artuo’s presence. He wasn’t adverse to his enlightenment, but Artuo had hoped for a bit more time before the male had come wandering over to him. It seemed things happened much to fast these days. Artuo was all for the slow, succulent moments in life. The ones you were able to sit back and relish. Well, at least when it came to enjoyment of his own. He had those moments only when they were not approved of, and now, those moments were sidled into a different kind of track. Attention temporarily diverted, he refocused on the approaching male, head now fully towards the other as they were now both aware of each other’s presence.

He shifted his weight once more, pushing himself to his feet as the other came close enough to see the hollow that he had created, merely by laying down throughout the week. At the sound of the other clearing his throat, Artuo tilted his head in way of greeting, acknowledging both the fact that he had witnessed a the restraint breaking in the other through his cry as well as his greeting.

He had a brief moment of awareness where their voices were concerned. As they were both male, it was fairly understandable that they would both have deep voices. But for an instant, Artuo pictured the two of them from above, both slightly reserved in their greetings and both carrying deep voices that would carry easily across any distance. He smirked slightly at the thought, pondering the waywardness of testosterone.

<b>"Well, hello."</b> He glanced around him, gaze taking in the flattened grass and small trail leading away into the field. <b>"What brings you to my humble abode?"</b> A smile lifted his lips in light tones. Obviously it wasn’t a permanent home and he didn’t call the territory his own, but it was humor in a lighter sense, and Artuo was willing to throw it out there.
</blockquote>

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/AshTable.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 250px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">Tail remaining in a neutral position, he stared at the man, his green eyes curious. He hadn’t come to this place often, but when he did, the beauty of it always got his breath caught in his throat. The area, was indeed, a sight to see when one had free time. The flowers that covered the ground in an array could easily get you distracted. The beautiful colors bright in your eyes as you would stare at them, everything else being blocked out of your mind except the sight and smell. It would remain sweet and powerful over the years, it was Ash’s own mourning grounds. It was beautiful, yet it could old much pain at the same time to see the beauty within it. You just had to want to look deep enough.

His paws remained planted where they were when the male answered to his greeting. But the question that was thrown at him caught the man slightly off guard. There were no boundaries here, but he did suppose that one area could be another home for a short time being. His tail curled in thought and he was soon arching an eyebrow at the man. They seemed roughly the same age, but Ash did seem only slightly older. His tail wagged slightly, a sign to the male that he had heard and was thinking to himself, as well as the fact that Ash was not a threat.

His eyes stared back at the other male. "I came here to look at the scenery, but then I scented you. Conversation isn‘t always a bad thing. . .I am Ash Hervok." He supposed the only way to get this male into a quick conversation was to offer up his name. Perhaps he was from another pack that Ash hadn’t heard of. But in his travels, Ash had not scented anything closer to the other male’s scent. It just scented. . .like the area, which he supposed made sense, but maybe another pack had formed. . .or not.

OOC: Thank you very much. ^_^
<blockquote>He watched the other's brow rise and he couldn't help but be amused by the gesture. It could mean anything from skepticism to, well, Artuo viewed it as mostly a quaint gesture of one doubting another's words, whether it be in humor or distaste. Rather than being offended by it, it drew Artuo in more to the conversation that seemed to be bubbling on the edges of their meeting. This was indeed not any kind of permanent home for him, and he took it as nothing more than that. No borders, no pack, any wolf of basic instinct would see this as free land and they would be correct in seeing it as such. It would only be in a show of dominance from either of them that question of who <i>belonged</i> would be settled. And Artuo wasn't to be bothered with such trivialities as those, as least for now. That came along with being in a pack, and sure, base greetings from one wolf to another, but those were played out in subtle signals that would either be interpreted as dominance or not. And it didn't seem that either of them were here for that particular game.

<b>"No, not at all. Conversation is very rarely a bad thing. It's communication that gets you.</b> Or rather, lack thereof.

<b>"My name is Artuo Valde."</b> His gaze shifted to the field that surrounded them, watching the distant edge of the meadow as the flowers shifted. <b>"I haven't been here for long. Mostly, I just settled here to gain my bearings."</b> And that was certainly true. Where to go from here, he would discover that as the time came. <b>"And what of you? The scenery is pleasant, certainly, but what's your story?"</b>

The stories of others always interested him. It was a way of discovering the boundaries of another's mind. No matter how well or how little he knew of someone else, it was their background and the way they interacted with the world now that made them who they were. What their responses where to certain stimuli, or how they reacted when emotionally involved. He could see the base instincts of most in many different avenues, but it was what branched out from there that fascinated him. The fortunate thing about this fascination was that it was never-ending. There would always be another wolf to encounter and each time, something would change, no matter how minute. They were each complex creatures, and finding himself among them, he knew that the more he discovered about others, the more he would discover of himself. </blockquote>

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/AshTable.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 250px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">Perhaps it was the tone of voice, or the tints of wisdom lacing all of his words. . .but for some odd reason, he felt comfortable around this male. Others he had met had either ticked him off or been too territorial. This man at least seemed to hold some kind of respect for him. The voice that echoed out at him confirmed his earlier thoughts. This brute was definitely wiser than most. That could easily gain Ash’s respect. . .easy brownie points for him it could be called. His tail wagged slightly as he stared at the male. His story? Hmm. . .he supposed their was no point in lying about his story. . .it didn’t matter anyways. Better he find out now rather than later and find out that Ash had lied to him. The Hervok was not a liar, he refused to take after his father.

Her head lowered slightly so that he was eye level with the other male. And then he spoke, "My story? Hmmm. . .my father held an oath on me when I was born to kill my sister. Told me false things about her. Never knew her honestly. Listened to my father and found Nina. . .tried to kill her, but her mate found her before I could, which I am now thankful for. I found them again and figured out that Nina no longer held the Hervok name. The oath was broken, and now I‘m here, living in a pack. . ." He didn’t want the other male to think he was a murderer, for he surely was not. He just had something hanging over his head.