if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

As the tall, swarthy male breached the edge of the woods, he found awaiting him a fresh blanket of snow. It was difficult to see new snowfall within the trees, where the boughs caught the bulk of it, but here on the open floodplain it was unmistakeable. The snow was windblown, but unbroken by paws or hooves, save for those few pinprick markings left from crafty ermines. The weak mid-afternoon sunlight shone a pale and watery yellow off the surface, as if reflected by a fog glass mirror. It was not bright enough to inflict snow blindness, as the sun was cloaked in a thin shroud of cloud, not enough to hide it completely but enough to dull its glare sufficiently for the wolf's vision. It was an appreciable sight, particularly for the adolescent wolf whose first winter, and the magical beauty of the first snowfall, had been abruptly interrupted by family tragedy.

But his family was safe now, and there was nothing left for Mace to fear or regret but the disappearance of his brother. It weighed heavily on his mind in the mornings and evenings, and plagued his sleep with nightmares, but in the middle of the day, Mace succeeded at banishing his negative thoughts. He had sworn his life to Maksim's cause, and resolved to be strong for his sisters, no matter his own misgivings. Here, at the edge of the woods with the marsh (though it resembled a simple field now) spread out before him, his only thought was that he had his very own playground, untouched by any other.

A large wolfish grin pulled at the edges of the male's lips as he pumped his legs through the thick snow, surging forward with his chest like a battering ram to clear the first foot of snow that had blown up against the forest's edge. Half an hour of ploughing through snow this deep was a hearty workout for the young male, but it took only fifteen minutes for his blood to run hot and his chest and sides to heave with the exertion of his breathing. His mouth hung wide as he took in great gasps of air, only to expel them as hot breath with a mindless ease. Nothing contented Mace more than physical exertion; he had been born with his father's build, and his father's strengths were his own.

He was a physical wolf, a fit wolf, not a thinker or a wordsmith or a diplomat. Pragmatic, and simple, and to the point; but, above all else, he endured, and excelled at endurance sports, not unlike his new routine of pushing his legs past exhaustion to move him through chest-deep snow. He desired to be strong, a fitting guardian for his sisters and his Alpha. Above all, Mace relished the burn of hard work, no matter what form it took, and so he challenged himself to make it a mile before pausing to rest his muscles.

gorgeous set by kydnt

OOC|| This is excessively long, no need to match-- especially for a little fast thread. x) Thanks for getting this started! ||

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The windblown marsh was spread out in front of the tawny wolf like a freshly made bed, pristine snow soft and inviting. Young though she was, she knew better than to trust its deceiving appearances. This now was her third winter, and she could recall with bitter amusement the several times that she had found herself plunging into a deep snowdrift that was previously indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. Travelling northward, she had just crossed the giant meadow under similar conditions, and she had been swamped in snow up to her chin. The memory was enough to call up a shiver. Naia was aware that staying in the treeline to circumnavigate the meadow would have been the better option, but if she did that she chanced a run–in with the Evil Pack. Just the thought of Them made Naia bristle, a low growl rumbling in her throat. What unimaginable cruelty: sending a broken alpha home at the start of winter to die in front of his family and orphan his children. The Shade Slayer that Naia had known and loved with unshakable loyalty was not a violent wolf, so in her mind They were the savage beings, attacking to kill without any provocation. Perhaps it was naïve of her to think this way, but it was not in her nature to doubt her leader’s virtue.

Here at the edge of the marsh however, she was starting to doubt her own resolve. Crossing the marsh would be a similar experience to that in the meadow, and she was hesitant to make such a difficult trek again. Perhaps she should turn back and seek acceptance with the Cave Pack. She had caught their distinct, claylike scent as she traveled through the trees at the northern edge of the giant meadow. Though she could hardly afford to be picky at this point, the girl balked at living in a cave again. She had resided in a cave for several weeks during the summer while exploring the great mountain in the Pass, and she had detested the way the strong scent of the cave clay lingered on her pelt, tainting and damping smells from the outside world. She much preferred sleeping below ground in a den carved out of light and fresh-smelling dirt, like the ones from her birth pack and in Pitch Pine Trail. Her situation would have to be much more desperate before she sought refuge with the Cave Wolves.

It was decided; instead of going straight through the marsh, she would travel around it in the treeline. Unlike the giant meadow, there was no Evil Pack on the outskirts of this expanse to deter her. In fact, she would welcome coming across a strange pack’s border markers, as she was currently searching for a new home. If the scent was right she would not hesitate to join. Naia had never experienced a winter outside of a pack, but instinctively she knew that a small wolf like herself would great difficulty surviving the entire winter on her own.

Just as she had made the decision to avoid the marsh, movement on the far side of the expanse caught her attention. Naia smiled to herself as she watched a dark wolf charge straight through the marsh. It didn’t appear that the dark stranger was chasing anything or being chased, so he must just be running for the fun of it, which was an activity that appealed to Naia’s carefree nature. She half-wished she could join the frolicking, but it would be a waste of precious energy. Still at the southern border of the marsh, she hopped into the air and barked, hoping to catch the stranger’s attention. If the stranger had the expendable energy to charge across the marsh, he or she was either a well-fed pack wolf or a high-spirited and playful loner, either of which Naia was eager to meet. She stopped barking briefly to knock some snow over the pronghorn flank she had set down in front of her while surveying the marsh. The flank was a gift to whatever pack she sought to join; she would feel very foolish if it was stolen by the strange wolf after she had purposefully attracted it’s attention. When she was satisfied the bone was hidden, she looked back up to determine if the dark shape was approaching, or if she would have to travel into the marsh herself to speak with him or her.

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His jaunt had taken him a fair distance from Maksim's claimed land, but Mace paid no mind to that. The Baranski knew he would return; the honesty and weight of the boy's oath was not to be questioned, not even by a superior pack wolf. He would enjoy his time away from what would have to become home, but he would always return, more often than not with an interesting tidbit of information for the pack. Today, his aim was not to gather intel, but sometimes things could be sprung upon a wandering wolf without premeditation, and today would be one of those days.

His headlong charge was halted by the carrying chuff of a summoning wolf, and in an instant Mace's body was on the alert. His lips drew tight into a constricted configuration, with his long canines visible but jaws parted, as his head and posture rose to the potential threat. His tail dropped from its initial playfully lifted position to a more horizontal posture, but he refrained from bristling it, as it was a posture of uncertainty and not threat. His head was drawn back, as were his ears, as he scanned the winter white canvas before him. Eventually, he spotted the unknown tawny wolf, as if she arose via abiogenesis to herald him specifically, at the edge of the trees.

Even at that distance, the Attaya could tell a few things. The opposing canid, be it male or female, was smaller than he, and therefore probably not a match for him, although there was no telling how old and experienced they were. He had over-confidence issues. Though he had been taught never to underestimate an opponent based solely on their size, Mace was a headstrong youth, and therefore his posture returned to something good-natured as he assured himself that the opposer could not do him harm. Nor, he decided, could they do the pack harm, as it was still some distance away, although there were telltale signs of their inhabitance even this far from the creek proper.

With these things in mind, the youth made a beeline for Naia, with his tail tip wagging above him and his lengthy bounds playful in nature. While she was concerned with conserving energy, a fact he was unaware of, Mace was concerned with generating heat, since the concept of starvation had never really been something he'd had to concern himself with. There was, therefore, no instinct or common sense to stop him from running straight into her and bowling her over in an invitation to play, which is exactly what the mischievous Mace Attaya planned to do when he reached her.

(This post was last modified: Dec 06, 2013, 07:57 PM by Mace.)

gorgeous set by kydnt

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Naia continued to bark encouragement to the stranger, wagging her tail as she noticed him alter his course to come hurtling toward her. As he came closer Naia confirmed that he was in fact male and a good deal larger than she—but then again, who isn’t? Though she couldn’t be certain yet, she also thought he might be younger, taking into account his playful bounding across the marsh. Matching age to behavior wasn’t always foolproof of course-- Naia herself was evidence of that. While her littermates grew into diligent, no-nonsense personalities, this tawny runt remained jocose and moony.

”Hi there—“ she started to call out as he came within earshot, but her voice faltered when she realized that he wasn’t slowing down. She took a few steps back in confusion, and the movement gave her just enough time to catch an impish glint in the boy’s puppy-blue eyes. In her birthpack Naia had served as a babysitter and eventually a teacher to the pack’s youth, so she knew this look all too well. In fact, she was struck with a vague feeling of déjà vu, thinking for the shortest instant that this might actually be one of her former students. But no—he was clearly a yearling, and she had no students from this season; she had spent all of spring travelling to this place.

She quickly ducked her head to brace for the impact, which was really all she could do at this point. As she was hit she caught the stranger’s scent, which was an ambiguous mixture of pack smells and those of a wanderer. The two tumbled over in a heap of fur and limbs, and when they came to a halt Naia still felt a little rattled. Many strapping young wolves like this lad didn’t yet realize the force of their own strength, especially against a delicately-built female like Naia. She shook her head in an attempt to get reoriented, bracing again in case there was a second charge. Who was she kidding-- there was always a second charge.

”Okay, okay!” she barked through giggles. ”Mercy! You win!” The tawny female flopped over onto her back in mock-defeat, hoping that would placate the young male. For the sake of theatrics, she let her tongue loll out of her mouth like she was dead, but the effect was diminished somewhat by her inability to keep her sides from heaving in silent laughter. One honey eye opened to peek at the stranger, curious if he was at all amused by her performance. Kids were sometimes a tough audience—they tended to be more honest than polite.

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Had he garnered any awareness of the discovery of his plot prior to the collision, Mace's paws might have dug into the snow to halt him. There was no fun to be had when he was found out. However, Naia proved impeccable at keeping her face straight, and only at the last second did she react with a tuck of head that revealed a carpet of flawless back draped over a delicate spine. It was the last thing Attaya saw before his chest barrelled into her to effectively knock her out of her defensive crouch while simultaneously throwing himself into an unexpected tumble.

It was accurate to say that young prince had yet to comprehend centres of gravity, or the effect of attempting to maintain one's footing when running into a shorter wolf.

The tumble did not deter him. In a flurry of loose snow and jet fur, he had found his paws again and risen. Tail beat a steady, playful rhythm against loins as the opposer collected herself, but the rambunctious teen didn't give her much time to gather her senses before he was upon her again, this time nosing at the woman's chest in the region of what would have been her armpit, if she permitted him to find it. Lips pulled back so he could gently nip with his first few teeth, seeking a spot of sensitivity that he might tickle and render her powerless.

Naia, it turned out, was an excellent actor. Not only did his attempt to keep her down fail, as she rose and immediately flopped back to expose her underside, but the woman's dramatic display changed the mood of their play drastically. Mace pulled back, wriggling his nose to ward off the sensation of an oncoming sneeze and weighing his options, before gingerly placing a large paw upon her upturned chest and hitching himself into a perfect Captain Morgan leg-on-spoils pose, albeit gently so as not to harm her. The other paw curved up against his chest victoriously, as a stallion might lift its own leg to show off. The boy turned his nose upward toward the sky with ears pricked sharply, certain to amuse with his faux-cocky display, as he called, I claim this mistress in the name of Cut Rock River!

gorgeous set by kydnt

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As the stranger’s nose snuffled and teeth nipped at the sensitive skin that joined her body and foreleg, it was all the tawny female could do to bite her lip and hold the dead-wolf pose. Doubtless that move would have been crippling to a younger wolf, and this young male had probably enjoyed much success using this technique against his littermates. She felt the dark lad draw away from her, probably confused that the older wolf wasn’t fighting back. Just as she peeked open a single honey eye to assess his reaction, she felt him plant his body weight directly onto her upturned chest. Naia let out a surprised “Oof!” as the weight of her companion’s body pressed her into the snow. It seemed that the boy had a dramatic streak as well, and Naia grinned in amusement as he lifted his chin triumphantly.

”I claim this mistress in the name of Cut Rock River!” he bellowed, and Naia erupted in a fit of giggles that was strangely punctuated with labored gasps for air. Coming to the conclusion that it was impossible to breathe and laugh simultaneously while being stood on, the female wriggled her body in an attempt to topple him off. The youngster was a good deal larger than she, but since he was balanced precariously on one leg with the other drawn up in a pose she was confident in her ability to free herself. Just to be sure, she buried one hindpaw in his underbelly to shove him as she twisted. Perhaps his lack of experience with gravity would be his undoing.

”You claim me?” the dainty female sputtered in mock indignation. ”Is that so?” She lifted a questioning eyebrow at him. ”And what—may I ask—is Cut Rock River?” A note of amusement remained in her voice as she was still playing with the yearling, but it was a serious question nonetheless. If it was the name of his pack, she would be curious to learn more about this Cut Rock River. That was the reason she had called him over here after all.

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As the female beneath him wriggled and writhe, Mace felt his flaky balance begin to become compromised. He managed to maintain his posture over the brief span of a few seconds before her hind paw found his belly and he was forced to bring his weight down off Naira's side, or risk falling on her. The sensation of another wolf's foot in his stomach was both ticklish and nerve-wracking; he would find later in his life that this was the last resort of a pinned wolf in a fight to regain their ground, and it was often an effective tactic.

Naia's sputtered response sent him into a fit of laughter, marked with a semi-coy smirk that seemed to say, and there's nothing you can do about it. Her question was more important, however, than Mace's imagined victory, and so he turned his attention to that, and felt some of the childish playfulness drain away. "Cut Rock River is a pack, living right through the trees there," he began, gesturing with his head toward the distant Cedarwood Forest and the site of the pack's inhabitance. "It's led by Maksim Baranski." As of yet, he was unaware of the female leader, Astra.

"It's made up of the remains of the Darkwater Rapids pack after the flood," he concluded, naively unaware that not all wolves knew what his old pack was, or where it had been, or what had happened to it. He believed everybody knew the tragedy of Darkwater Rapids and the triumph of the wolves who had come over the mountain, although he himself had not been one of those wolves.

gorgeous set by kydnt

Look Out!

A young pronghorn has fallen behind its herd and starved in the snow. +5 Health

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Naia immediately inhaled when the youngster transferred his weight away from her chest. The question had distracted him from his attack, and Naia took advantage of the diversion by rolling into an upright position. She shook the snow off of her head and neck before flicking her ears forward to listen to the dark male’s explanation. It was exactly as she thought—the River Wolves lived just across the marsh, and this strapping young lad was one of them. She committed the name Maksim Baranski to memory, knowing she would use the information later if she met the leader himself at the border. She almost told the young male that she was looking to join up with Cut Rock River, but she stopped herself before she spoke. It was better to let it be a surprise later if she was accepted than for him to get his hopes up before she had even approached a leader. For all she knew, this Maksim fellow could turn his nose up at another Pitch Pine Trail refugee.

Naia nodded as the swarthy youth spoke of the flooding last autumn. She hadn’t heard of Darkwater Rapids before or their plight, but she remembered the storms from the previous season. It had rained so much that Naia nearly forgot what the sky looked like. If Darkwater Rapids had flooded, then they must have been located somewhere in the northeast—those lands had been hit the hardest by the rains. ”Are you telling me you crossed the Pass as a child? Cut Rock River pups must just be tougher, hmm?” She complimented him with a playful bat at one of his ears, though all playfulness aside she was pretty impressed. She had only crossed the mountain twice herself, and she wasn’t in a hurry to do it again.”So am I in the presence of a Prince, then?” Naia asked, aware that she had yet to learn her companion’s name.

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(This post was last modified: Dec 22, 2013, 03:45 PM by Naia.)

There were several refugees from Pitch Pine Trail, and Mace knew none of them. He had not had the pleasure of meeting Anastasia or XIX prior to the flood; at best he had their scent in mind from the communal den. A clump of shed fur, perhaps, was his only clue. In truth, Mace only knew of Darkwater Rapids and his present pack. His parents had been the royal pair of Darkwater, leaving him a prince bereft of his crown, but the cubs had not been old enough for education of the other packs. Had he known much more, he would realize Anastasia was once their leader, and would have warned any Pitch Pine wolf from seeking refuge in their pack, if only so the opportunity for discord did not arise.

However, Mace had never met the overly ambitious Anastasia nor her anxious companion, so even if Naia had mentioned her past pack, he would have had nothing to say for it. Instead, she focused on the feats of the pack's pups, none of which he could claim any glory for. There was nothing glorious about being flooded out of home, but for a brief instant the young Attaya knight would have liked to say he was so valiant, and to say he had helped his pack to migrate.

"My lady mother and father raised us strong," he said proudly, but then waved away her belief by saying, "but it was my sisters who crossed the Pass with the pack in the rains. I went with my parents at first but came back to find out if my sisters had truly died as they believed." Mace had crossed the Pass in two cold nights, but the sky had been clear and the snow frigid. Nothing of nature had deterred him when he came over.

His tail waved when she referred to his prior title, but he shook his head as well. "Once, but Maksim is not family. His children will one day be princes and princesses. My sisters and I lost the title when our parents left, so it will be my duty to protect the new princes and princesses instead of being one myself." He puffed his chest out proudly and proclaimed, "one day I'll be the finest protector in all the land!"

gorgeous set by kydnt