Sacred Grove the frail will fall below

Open to all! Sven is looking for his mother Piety in this thread. Please, do not share information about her with him, as his discovery of her is already planned out.
Dated 10/4 - Clear skies & sunny, noon.
Sub-territory discovery! Scoundrel's Throne is a natural tea table found in the far eastern stretch of Sacred Grove, where the ground begins to grow rocky as the land transitions from forest to mountain. Standing tall at thirteen feet high, the eroded rock formation gives a decent vantage point. The structure sits at the bottom of a steep-sloped, rock-littered hill, and so one could manage to gain access to the top of it with a well-sprung leap. Its peculiarity and seeming lack of explainable origin inspire many stories within the heads of travelers, leading the landmark to be surrounded by myths and rumors, from the simply exaggerated to the utterly fanciful.

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

After the previous day's fruitless efforts, the boy retained the entirety of his determination. If anything, the stretch of exploration had fanned the fires within him to burn even hotter. So he hadn't found her, it had only been a single day--he couldn't truly have expected to find her trail on the first try. It only left three other cardinal directions in which to pursue, and as he stretched his limbs and awoke himself that morning, Sven's instinctual mind decided upon North for the new day's efforts.

In a short interval of time, the spacious willows began to fall away as far thinner, spindly-branched trees rose to power in mass. The sun-lit peace resting comfortably within the atmosphere did not alter with this change of scenery. In fact, an even deeper calm seemed to thrum along the ground, tickling his paw pads as he trekked on. Straying East, he was drawn to the sight of the towering mountain range, and found himself following the border between forest and mountain.

It became difficult for the boy to imagine any harm that could have befallen his mother in such surroundings. The terrain was agreeable, and not a single telltale sign existed of another soul residing within the area. He was reminded of the inlet he had discovered at the Lagoon, how such calm had been utterly deceitful, and found himself on high guard despite everything around him existing as nothing other than soothing. His ghostly eyes continuously traveled up the pale peaks of the mountain, the jagged heights the only obvious possibility of danger. Perhaps his mother had attempted to climb the mountainside, coming to harm in that way? But why would she? Sven couldn't wrap his head around a single excuse; at least, not one that preserved Piety as the devoted mother he so yearned for her to be.

The thought occurred to him several times that perhaps he had chosen an utterly wrong direction in which to travel. Perhaps, he should turn around now and back track, pursuing the meadows south of the Archer domain while the day was still young. No, he decided each time the doubtful whispers slithered between his ears. Piety would've enjoyed such a stroll, she would not have turned back so early. If she had kept going, what would she have stumbled upon? Surely the land would change again, and perhaps it was there that he would find his clues.

It was noon when something of abnormality finally caught the boy's attention. Jutting out from the ground was a most peculiar boulder, not the angled oval that he was familiar with but instead a structure that looked almost to have been purposefully made. Clinging still to the stories his mother had shared with him each night, he considered her belief that god led his most faithful sheep with signs. Was this his sign? Had he truly been pious enough to receive such a thing? Sven couldn't help but doubt it, despite how dearly he hoped it to be true. Yet, what if this wasn't for him? His mother, she had been nothing short of angelic. Perhaps this was for her, god's desire to bring her back home.

Pacing picking up eagerly, he jogged forward to further explore the phenomenon before him. He robbed his snout against the varied edges, the stone soft and porous. If he knew of geology, he would know that this made the rock easily erodible. He would know that this was simply a fluke of nature. Unfortunately, Sven was utterly uneducated in such fields. His neck craned upward, attempting to spy the top of the formation. It was incredibly tall. Would Piety have wanted to see what the view was from way up there as he so strongly did now? Sven squirmed at the base of it, yearning dearly for a way up.

In either desperation or determination, he scaled the hill adjacent to the tea table, stopping at what he thought to be the perfect height and eyeing the distance between his current coordinates and his goal. I can make that, he thought with confidence, and indeed after only two failed attempts (a few scrapes earned on the second), his third leap was made with enough gusto to give him a solid grasp on the rock's topmost layer. His hind legs had hung, but with a solid grip and enough of his body securely atop the structure, he was able to garner the leverage needed to pull himself all the way up.

A grin overtook his muzzle as he stood atop the natural throne, seeing the world through eyes that were now thirteen feet taller than they had ever been. The wind combed over his opal fur, and for a pure moment he was able to focus on feeling rather than thought. His ears twitched forward then, catching the sound of footfalls at an increasing volume. Dead leaves whispered their protest as they were crushed under paw, and a lupine scent was carried up to his lungs. The boy immediately flattened himself against the rock, attempting to hide from sight. Nose wriggling and tail snapping from side to side, he waited anxiously to see exactly who was approaching.

Every night the dream's the same

Cathair Jaggedmaw

Every night I burn

Cathair moved aimlessly through the land he had found himself in, leaving behind the massive, shimmering lake and carefully weaving around a pack in a willow forest. They did not interest him, their heavily scented borders carrying no indication of his siblings in the mixture of scents. Cathair didn't fancy getting into an altercation by lingering too long, and continued on his path towards the region's most distinctive landmark, a white capped mountain that towered watchfully over the land. @Kenelm and Calanthe so far had already taken the coward's route in fleeing, so he didn't think it particularly likely they would have scaled such an imposing summit. None-the-less, the Jaggedmaw man found himself gravitating towards the highlands, wondering if perhaps his siblings might have hit such a barrier and continued north as the only other option.

The terrain grew rougher as the went, stone jutting up from the earth between the scraggly trees that eked out a living here. Leaves crumpled under the raven-black male's loping gait, unconcerned about who might notice him. Something peculiar caught his eye, a chunk of rock jutting from the earth between the trees. Given the angle he could not see the boy who had perched at it's summit, but could smell them easily enough. His black nose worked the air, head slowly panning back and forth as he looked for the wolf, not thinking to look up due to the unlikely height.  

Cathair walked up to the side of the strange rock, considering it's rough grey surface as his snout sniffed near it's base. A slight scent of willow bark, despite having left the willows and it's pack far behind, caught his attention. He slowly circled the stone, still not finding anything. He cleared his throat, a futile attempt to ease the scratching irritation that plagued his airways.

He felt slightly possessive at the scent of another that he could not see, and the strange rock seemed as good a signpost as any. Cathair unceremoniously lifted a leg to mark the dusty sandstone.

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

Sven dared not peer over the edge of his tower as the stranger traveled mauka and, in turn, closer to him. Whether the man approaching was dangerous or just good to give a scare to, the boy did not want to be spotted so soon. He forced his tail to still as he sensed the other drawing up to the rock, heard the rustling of his movements. Would he figure it out? Had he already? Perhaps he would attempt to climb up here with Sven, and then what? Would it be safe to jump down from the other end, with so much more distance between the ledge and the ground?

His thoughts were disturbed as a hissing sound and pungent smell simultaneously alerted his senses to what exactly the man below was doing. Disgust twisted his muzzle and he stuck out his tongue, thoroughly disturbed with the audacity this individual possessed. Indignant, Sven launched forward, suddenly standing at the edge of the tea table to glare daggers down at Cathair.

"Hey! The hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded to know with a growl to his voice. They weren't immediately close to the Willows, but this was still not this foreigners land to be marking! If anything, this was Sven's boulder!

Every night the dream's the same

Cathair Jaggedmaw

Every night I burn

Before Cathair had even lowered his leg he heard a commotion overhead, paws scuffling over dry stone and a growling voice that was too high pitched, too young, to be of any real concern to the fully grown male. The Jaggedmaw male turned, slowly, nonchalantly craning his skull upwards to stare directly above, eyes squinting to find the outline of a pale face peering down at him framed by the brilliant blue sky.

"What does it look like?" Catheir grumbled in rasped tones, one side of his lips lifting in a toothy sneer. "Takin' a piss," he drawled, defiant moon yellow eyes glaring back up at the pup. His black tail swished, taking an arched position high above his posterior. "Maybe if you didn't want me to piss on it, you shoulda pissed on it yourself first, kid. Early bird gets the worm and all that." He said roughly, sneer shifting to a smirk, amused more than anything else and of course pointedly ignoring that the boy was here first. This little pipsqueak didn't scare him one bit, and he would bet the kid was more bark than bite.  Still, his ears flicked, panning to and fro as he stepped slowly back from the rock so that he wouldn't get a crick in his neck from staring.

 

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

Sven peered down at him with narrowed eyes, annoyance written clearly all over his face and emphasized by the occasional flick of his ears. Everything about the man below him was ugly, from the jagged scar carving over his features to the rasp of his voice, an abnormality that the boy knew would quickly begin to grate on his nerves if he had any kind of lengthy conversation with the other. Yet despite everything Sven already didn't like about him, it could not be ignored that the man made a very good point. This by no means meant that the boy would back away from his own claims, which would quickly be proven to the rogue.

Quickly making up his mind, Sven disappeared from the edge for a beat before appearing at the other edge, the one close enough to the hill's peak to be accessible. He descended as he had come up, landing within the grass and leaves with a soft 'huff', and then promptly turned back toward Cathair and approached him. His pale gaze stared defiantly at the man's face as he neared the base of the tea table and, indignantly, raised his own leg to mark what was his.