Heartleaf Creek no sanctuary

July 1st; Afternoon; Partly Cloudy; 63° F/17° C

Being joined by his twin sister Bishop had its perks, but with the perks came the drawbacks. When he wanted to be alone, she insisted that she tagged along; when he thought he saw something, she offered her own two cents if she didn't believe him; when he became so focused on where they were going, she worried and it made him worry; when he worried, she sometimes got mad. The only time they caught up to one another, calmed down, and leveled their heads was when they prayed together. For the past few days, he had regretted thinking that the verbal petitions they offered were nothing but words, but now it seemed that they were on the right track.

Even if he never caught sight of the albino stag again or received anymore signs that they were headed in the right direction, Rook Lyall had a hunch that no matter where they stepped, it was a step that was meant to be taken. For some time he had left his sister behind while she did her thing - meditated or caught up on her sleep or something of the sort - and what Rook found by the creek was something rather inspiring. To any other it might have been something ordinary, plain. Washed up along the river bank was half of a broken eggshell. Its off-white hue, dark speckling, and size suggested it had once belonged to a newborn sand martin; and, all at once, Rook stopped to hope that the hatchling had survived, simply discarding the shell as a feat of triumph on its hatch-day.

He craned his neck down to nudge it with his nose and take in its scent. It had probably traveled very far from its original location in the nest; it smelled of nothing but the crispness of river water and freshly sprouted leaves. He lifted his mismatched eyes to take in the forest around him, sighing once when he remembered that he still had not found where Grizzly Hollow was. Perhaps this part of the Lore was deserted. Maybe his father and mother had suggested that the wolves in these parts make themselves scarce too, and that was why he and Bishop had not been in contact with other wolves for the past several weeks.

The youth's gaze dropped back to the ground, wanting nothing more than to keep his sense of hope instead of losing it.

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Namid, once again, found herself wondering along the banks of a creek. It seemed that she was nearly always going along some sort of water source, though she was always told that going along a water source was the best option. Obviously, there was water and where there was water there was life. Along the banks of a river and the surrounding area animals thrived making for good hunting. It held most of what a wolf could need. With this in mind, the Star Dancer decided that she would stop and hunt. She felt a craving for fish, and luckily she was fairly adapt at hunting the slippery little aquatic animals.

Moved a little ways downstream she watched the water for signs of fish, searching for a place where they were likely to show up or group at. They tended to hang along the banks because that was where their food source was and that was where hiding spots were. Upon spotting a large branch filled with the strange, heart shaped leaves that hung over the bubbling brook she knew that was where she wanted to go. Swiftly making her way along the bank she moved over to the spot she’d designated, and then waded into the water until it was just above her ankles. With ears pricked she waited for the tell-tale flash of silver that would indicate the prey she was looking for was fast approaching. Her stomach grumbled as she waited, courtesy of the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day.

Somewhere to his right, he heard the barely audible sound of shifting gravel. By instinct alone, his fur at the back of his neck and around his shoulders bristled. Bishop had probably come around to check up on him, to make sure he had not gone and tried anything she considered stupid. He waited, listening as the distant footfalls found the edge of the water and disappeared beneath the sound of the babbling creek. It felt like she was drawing closer, but as Rook turned, squinting as he gazed up the riverbank, he realized that the newcomer was not his sister at all.

It was another wolf; her coat an array of ivory, silver, and gray hues. That was definitely not Bishop. The yearling swallowed, both his head and heart filling up with unanswered questions. Somewhere above him a passing sparrow seemed to offer a bit of encouragement. Go on... Ask her. A small smile was recovered on his downward-turned lips and his tail came up in a hopeful, bashful wag. If he was going to succeed in any attempt to gather information about anything, he had to be presentable... just as his mother had taught him. He took one step, then another... and another, sticking quietly to the cool mud and pebble-paved shore.

He watched her wade about in the water, immediately realizing that she was on a mission to fish up something to eat. A low bark initially warranted for her attention before he called cautiously in her direction, his voice just a notch above a loud whisper, "Hello, ma'am? Hello? Hi, could I... Could I ask you something?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Namid was just about to lunge for a fish that came her way, when a voice suddenly spooked her from her concentration. Her head shot up and she twisted around, her heterochromatic gaze wide with surprise. The fish swam away with a frenzied splash, its heart probably beating just as fast as hers. Who could this be, to walk up on someone who was trying to get a decent meal? Oh well, it didn’t bother her. Any annoyance she may have felt quickly ebbed away with her good-natured self as she made her way out of the creek. She was slightly wetter than before, small droplets of water clinging to her already silvery pelt which now caught fragments of pale light that streamed from above.

An eyebrow raised in question at the ma’am part, because she wasn’t quite used to being called such. But it slipped past as a friendly smiled curled onto her lips, giving her pelt a good shake. She took in the male’s appearance, deducting that he was a little younger than her. His pelt seemed slightly average for a grey wolf, while hers was much lighter, but the thing that caught her attention was his eyes. He, too, had mismatched eyes such as herself. She hadn’t seen them in other wolves that she’d met since the incident, and it intrigued her. “Of course. How may I help you, sir?” She replied. A faint tease was located in her voice as she mimicked the same formal tone by calling him sir, though there was no indication that she was mocking him. It was all in good fun.

He wondered why he had been so keen at staring at her face, his gaze so honed in at the color of her eyes. He wished he hadn't, for when the woman turned full face to exit the water and gaze upon him, he was inwardly shocked that her eyes, too, were unmatched like his. She countered and answered him in what Rook considered a genial and somewhat playful manner, "Of course. How may I help you, sir?” That, too, caught him off-guard.

Oh goodness. Oh my. Oh God...

The Lyall's lower jaw dropped and hung there for a few seconds before he became conscious about the way he was looking at her. He ground his molars together and the muscles in his jaw jumped. "I..." he wasn't sure why he was hesitating. The fact that she had just called him sir actually should have been expected. Besides, this was an opportunity now that he had her attention, and he ought to seize it while he could! "Hi," he said again, his tone seemingly more demure than before. "I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

One of his ivory paws came up in genuine curiosity as he forced himself to read her, to tear his eyes away from her blue and brown eyes and double-check that he had not upset her by pulling her from her fishing attempt. Her smile had been unmissable though, and in remembering that, he continued, "I was wondering if... if you could help me?" beneath his soft-spoken, tenor tone, a hopeful note rang true, though his a glimmer in his eyes spoke otherwise. The brief lowering of his ears immediately indicated that there was something else in addition to his query, and he hoped she would at least stay long enough to give him some insight.

"I'm looking for a few things," he added. "My sister and I are... are looking--" he corrected himself, "--you wouldn't happen to be familiar with this part of the Lore, would you?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

A blush crept over her skin underneath of her silvery fur at the open mouthed gaping look he gave her. She wondered, for a moment, how she looked. Though she wasn’t a dirty, mangy mammal she didn’t always look like a pedigree. Why did she even care again? She shook off the feeling the best she could and returned her attention to the male. He seemed to be stuttering a lot, trying to decide how to get his words out correctly and Namid didn’t think anything badly about him for it. Even from where she stood she could tell he was not a part of any pack. He had the scent of earth about him, as did most lone wolves, and that meant he most likely was not as sociable as most wolves were. She often went long periods of time without meeting any other sort of canine, which meant little socialization. Something else caught her attention, though. He’d mentioned a sister, which automatically made her look around them for any signs of another presence. If he was traveling with a sibling, where could she be?

“I have been to many parts of Lore, this one I am still getting to know. Perhaps you could tell me what it is you are looking for, anything that would stick out? I do not mean to pry,” She replied, adding the last bit hastily. The Star Dancer was not a horribly nosey she-wolf, but she may have gone past whomever or whatever he may be looking for. She was more than willing to help in any way that she could, because that was just how she was. It gave her great pleasure in helping others, her gentle nature made her patient with most. There were times when her anger got the best of her, but that was very rarely and very terrifying when it did happen.

She mentioned that she had been to many parts of Relic Lore and, though Rook should have immediately doubted her, he simply accepted her words as genuine and veritable. Any direction was better than having no direction at all. "I don't know if I could tell you what exactly I'm looking for," he started, his ears lowering briefly before coming back up to their normal positions atop his head, "But it's a place, in a forest full of cedars called Grizzly Hollow." He wondered if he ought to say more, but it dawned on him that there was nothing else he could say about it.

"My parents are from there," he finally concluded, somewhat hoping to pique her interest. Then, he remembered something, something more important than finding what was possibly an abandoned empire, "If you haven't heard of it, that's okay. I was actually hoping... wondering... maybe... if you're familiar with herbs? I'm also looking for something to help someone... think." The word could have dropped from the tip of his tongue and landed with a thud on the ground at his feet. The way he pronounced "think" would hopefully keep her attention and garner from her the affirmations he so desperately craved.

He gave her a weak smile, "I'll appreciate any sort of help you can give. Anything about what you know or somewhat certain of. I'm willing to give you whatever you ask in return." The tail at his back grew still and lowered into a more neutral and submissive position, "My family is depending on me."

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Namid listened, ears pricked and alert at his description of the place. She started connecting dots in her mind, like a road map of memories of scenery she’d gone by. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she remembered something about cedars and willows. Cedars and willows combined, that was it. Though, the rest of his talk was drawing blanks for her. By the way he put emphasis on think she knew he was referencing to something, but that was something that she knew not about. A little annoyed feeling settled in the back of her mind, not at the male but at her lack of knowledge. Knowledge was something that Star Dancer put in high regards, something that she craved like some others might crave a certain food or power. If she didn’t know something, you’d bet that she would soon find out about it.

“I believe I know of what you are speaking of. There are tales I’ve heard of a forest where there are large trees, Cedars I believe, that join to trees with swaying branches. I do not know if this is your Grizzly Hollow, but perhaps it is worth a try? You will need to go south of this place, if memory serves correctly. I can help you, if you wish. As for the thinking herb, I cannot help you there. I apologize.” The she-wolf explained, her cranium cocking at an angle as she recited what she had heard. He seemed interested enough that he would most likely take her word, and now he had gotten her interested as well. In her own selfish way, she half hoped that he would ask her to come along for assistance for she wanted to further her knowledge and see this forest of Cedars. But, she knew it was wishful thinking and she was far from one to invite themselves somewhere they may not be welcomed. It was obviously a personal thing, and she hoped that whatever she had given him would be helpful.

"“I believe I know of what you are speaking of," she answered after some thought. His heart could have leapt for joy in the confines of his ribcage, but she continued to let him know that she did not know about his father's pack, where his older siblings had been born and his parents had established a legacy that had, unbeknownst to him, left a lasting mark on some of Relic Lore's inhabitants. Perhaps she was new, he reasoned with himself, just like him. Just like Bishop. Newcomers to Relic Lore, though obviously she had been in this part of the realm much longer than them. "South," he said quietly with a nod, already willing to race back to his sister and drag her southbound. He bit his tongue as he heard her offer to help, even if she also did not know about anything about the medicinal plant he was looking for, but smiled nevertheless.

"Really?" he questioned, his face lighting up as though the sun had reappeared behind the cloud cover above and settled upon his masked face. "You'll help? Thank you, thank you!" It was here that his obvious youth shone through; gone was the courteous and cautious yearling, and in his place a cub-like enthusiasm rendered him a few months younger than he really was. He slid down into a sort of play-bow as his tail wagged happily in the air, "I'm gonna tell my sister. I'll be right back! Don't you move!" He leapt through the trees but within seconds, he came bounding back.

He landed into the shallow part of the creek with a couple of splashes as he looked at her, his tail a blur of tawny hues. "Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, straightening his posture and reclaiming his true sense of self. If she had expected to go back to her fishing, even after all the fuss he was making at the water's edge, there was no chance now of even seeing a glimpse of silvery scales. All his splashing about could have easily scared off any catfish or salmon in the area. He cleared his throat and openly grinned at her, bowing his head once to make up for his hasty exit and return. "I'm Rook," he introduced himself, not even hesitating. After remembering what had happened the last time he introduced himself as "Declan," he decided against it. Perhaps that name was only meant for Bishop alone, when they wanted to be by themselves, simply alone together, to think and ponder the world without having to identify themselves as the troubled youths they believed they were. "Rook... Lyall. And you are?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Watching the younger male jump around with such glee at her answers made her own heart leap, her tail beginning to wag and sway behind her lithe built frame. This was one of the reasons why she truly enjoyed helping others. If she did her job right or gave them the answer they were looking for, she could get this sort of reaction and that was what made everything ok with her. She decided that this would be for the best. Skipper over there could get the information he so desperately wanted or needed, and she could widen her knowledge of the lands around them and maybe even, one day, decide to join a pack. At that moment she did not want to do any such thing. Though it had been months since her separation, it was still a fresh feeling in her mind and in her heart of being ripped from all of them. She didn’t want to get too attached again, and ‘starting over’ in a new pack and having a new family seemed to only make her feel worse. No, for now she would travel and learn all she could and help all that needed it. Starting with Rook.

A brilliant smile lit up her face as he splashed back, a laugh threatening to bubble its way up her throat as he tried so desperately to regain his composure after his frankly juvenile antics just moments before. Though, in all honesty, she herself did not have any right to judge because she acted that way a lot as well. While at that moment she seemed so composed and mature, she was really quite the opposite most days. At two years of age she seemed to have energy of a pup. “My name is Namid, it means Star Dancer where I am from,” She replied, obvious excitement showing in the brightening of her mismatched gaze. The silver she-wolf felt the need to state the meaning of her name when introducing herself, because it was a part of her. The meaning was almost like an insight to who she was, and who it had come from made it all the more special to her.