Drooping Willows the world burns but still we breathe

For @Angier!

Beneath the cover of the willows, it would have almost been worth suggesting the anthesis of spring was very near. The sun that shone on that day almost felt warmer than it had days ago and for that, Mojave found she was thankful. She enjoyed the scenery of winter but was beginning to grow tired of it. Yet in spite of the sunlight, there was fog to be had en masse. It cast a pallor and haze to the area, almost leaving it with a sudden, serious sort of mood. Of course if she had even a modicum of reality of the history of the place and more importantly of the pack it housed somewhere within, Mojave may have steered clear of the place.

But she was drawn in unquestionably, drawn in by instinct alone to explore of the willowy forest for what it contained. An explorer at heart, her wanderlust had not quite been quenched as she had followed the trail Deacon had left. Here, it would have seemed that he had been all around at one point or another, leaving her to wonder if this was the place he had claimed he was going. Yet perhaps not, the young Ostrega determined, because the musk of the place suggested it was older than that. She hovered over one particular place, teased momentarily by the long tendrils of the willow she was beneath. He had been there at one point, but wasn't any more. Curiously, she cast her gaze around before ascertaining that she was alone for the moment, and let that reality set in.

This too, was brief, as the tendril of the willow came back to wave in her face again. This time, she reached for it with jaws agape, willing it to come closer so that she could pull it loose from... well, wherever it came. She hadn't put much through into the tree, let alone what it consisted of, so when she did finally get ahold of it, the honey-kissed Ostrega pulled roughly on the twine-like tendril.

In the haze that still clung to Relic Lore, Angier ventured from Elettra's side with a small nuzzle of his nose to her cheek. He was just going to stretch his legs and do a bit of his daily routine as to ensure that the pack had not upended itself during the times when he and the queen of Willow Ridge had stolen several hours to themselves. It was with a careful and prideful pace that he made his way through the trees with his tail high and his head low, sniffing about for any telltale signs that their subordinates carried out their duties and all that was required of them.

The sounds of something or someone rustling nearby pulled at his ears and made him deviate from the path he had intended on following - an invisible trail that, only with the guide of certain trees, was apparent specifically to those who came to this part of the territory and followed Angier Lyall's heavy footsteps. The willow branches brushed against his shoulders and sides as he went, soon spotting the quivering silhouette of a umbrella-like tree that had initially caught his attention.

His golden eyes flit down from the crest of the old, smooth-barked willow, landing on what could have been a canine - perhaps a mischievous coyote or a fellow wolf. He was going to find out, at this time of the month - regardless of whether his mate had already conceived or not - he was all too eager to get to the bottom of things, and any females who dared to come this close to her lands were going to be at risk of being chased off if he did not address them first.

"'Scuse me," he barked through the fog, his head lifting now as to convey that he was a Leader within this part of the Lore. For Angier, his tone was far too demanding, but if he happened to lay eyes on the visitor, it was apparent in the way his body somewhat leaned to one side that he was rather curious as to what the stranger was doing around here. There wasn't much one could do with a willow branch or two. It had no particular value to wolves, unless one was content on constructing a sort of bird-like nest for her impending brood... but, then again, not even El, whose dens and safe havens were surrounded by willow trees, would resort to using the whip-like branches for anything but puppy chew toys. "What're ya doin'?"

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A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

So caught up in her weak attempt of a thwarting a nuisance, Mojave did not see the arrival of another. But she certainly heard him; the sound of his voice breaking roughly in the late winter din and prompting her to sever her tugging of the willow branch. It slid easily from her mouth, though the return to its wave in the wind was weak at best. With her ears slipping back against the crown of her head, Mojave knew what he was long before she had to question it. It was that tone, one that she recalled readily from weeks and weeks ago. She considered beating a hasty retreat, but it was too late; as he spoke, she found herself looking at the ground between their feet.

"I was trying to pull that thing off," she said, only then bringing her gaze to the weak waver of the willow branch. "It was bugging me." She spoke honestly and concisely, certain already that things were not going to go well for her. Tension mounted quite the assault on her because once more, she considered trying to beat that hasty retreat to somewhere a little less familiar smelling and more like the wilderness she had come stumbling out of. Yet that familiarity recalled her to why she had come there in the first place and that was because of Deacon's lingering trail to and from the place that she unknowingly realized was, or had been, his home.

She was quick to let him know what it was that she was doing: attempting to rid a willow tree of one of its vine-like branches because it was... bothering her. Well, then... His brow furrowed and his head canted to one side. A puff of air came from him, exiting through his nostrils in some sort of humored snort. "Uh huh," he wanted to say, but instead he kept the sentiment to himself. He looked her over then, his nose twitching despite his now deep-rooted aversion towards any female other than Elettra. She seemed decent, to say the least, but that was not to say that he was inclined to flirt with her.

He cleared his throat as he took a step closer, his gaze angling upward to scan the tangle of branches that made up the particular willow that had been bothering the woman. "So, what brings ya this far into the willows? 'Ave ya come ta stay or jus' passing through?" he asked, his tone gracing the fine line between curiosity and offense. She hadn't trespassed, per se; as it stood, he was a not a long way away from home, but nevertheless, she was a decent distance away from Willow Ridge.

Angier righted his head then gazed over to the young woman with a small smile despite him still feeling indifferent towards her. He would know better than any that a small bit of kindness went a long way sometimes. He waited for her to answer his first questions before eventually warming up to her a little, "D'ya 'ave a name?"

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