Sex: MaleThere was a thick haze hanging in the air, with Jack Frost racing with the wind, that left the snow-topped trees shuddering. Creatures of all shapes and sizes were tucking themselves away for the winter months, with their bellies full and their stores brimming. For those animals that did not sleep through the harsher moons, life was going once again become a challenge -- a cycle of survival of the fittest. Being one such beast, Aleksei trotted amidst trees, his thick winter coat keeping the chills from biting at his skin. Still, the sight alone of the freezing fog swirling all around him was enough to make him shiver.
As he pushed on through the snow, following his nose, Aleksei hoped to find some morsel of fresh, warm meat to bring back home. It was his duty as a member of the pack, and he told himself this repeatedly. Perhaps, he was making himself pay out of the nose -- no one seemed too angered with his disappearance ... if anything, every wolf seemed relieved. Giving a deep sigh, the yearling couldn't help but feel confusion. Abandoning the pack was wrong, but why had he received no punishment? Was he not on the level of all others? Beneath his mother and father?
Somewhere above him, a raven gave a shrill cry that caused Aleksei to lift his chartreuse gaze skyward. He could barely see thick grey clouds through the fog, and he felt as though snow fall was destined to fall today. He decided that it was best to get a move on, before it became too hard to track the prey that he was looking for.
For one reason or another, Nightingale was less hungry; she owed it to many individuals, and she would pay them back for it as best as she could. It was why she journeyed to the Palisades, a place she remembered and a place she would go to so that she might see if she could find something to drag to her food-bringers. It was the least she could do. The days were growing colder and Nightingale knew she had to go with, and stick to, her choices when she made them [not withstanding the unforeseeable future, which she had made sure to mention]. This day in particular was bonechillingly cold; she grimaced, visibly, at the sight of her breath. Nightingale literally would jump into it, to see if it could warm her... but no, there was no warmth to be gained except in the process of moving more and more. She picked up her pace. The songbird soon heard th e very same shrill cry that the silver, tawny fellow ahead did... and, interested, she picked her way toward it.
The birds were scavengers. Perhaps they had found something. Her tail waved at the idea and she bounded forward; the snow had not yet fallen enough for her to need to push through it. It was, at the moment, at her ankles. Still easy to traverse in, and nowhere near a bother. It was the damn frozen frog that made things difficult. The agouti woman stopped in her tracks when she thought she saw a silhouette ahead... of a wolf. Of course, shrubbery could be assorted into such a shape. Mother nature was strange, and had her own designs for the world. Who was she to judge? So the songbird simply whuffed aloud, the thick-yet-thin air making the sound flat, but sharp.
Aleksei had always been taught to follow the wolf birds -- they picked at carrion, after all. They could be life savers in winter and summer alike, and to deny their help (be it intentionally given or not) would be a daft choice to make. And so, he lifted a paw from the snow to head off after the winged creature, anticipating the fallen prey that he would hopefully get the prime pickings of. He barely even took a step before the sound of another caused his ears to swivel like satellite dishes. Perhaps he'd spoken too soon about gaining possible ownership to the best flesh of what remained of whatever had fallen. Aleksei twisted his head and squinted through the fog. It was likely that whoever it was attracted by the sound of the raven. He couldn't say he blamed them.
He shifted his posture as he turned in the snow to face the hazy figure -- he decided on the cautious approach and gave a bark of his own to signal that he had heard their approach. "Hello there. Do you need help with something, or ... ?" He waited, perhaps naively, for the stranger's approach, instead taking the time to suss out the scent of his mysterious, misty company. Female, he deduced, given the lack of muskiness on the wind ... but that was all he could make out in this stifling fog.
He glanced over his shoulder for a brief second, frowning. Hopefully, he wouldn't lose the trail of that lone raven. The wind was dragging on and on now, and he was worried the scents might be swept away in the damp air.
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying
Nightingale heard the response and was relieved her eyes were not playing tricks on her. She was also disappointed, only in that this meant the meal could not be solely her own to bring back and nibble on. Nightingale approached after hearing him speak; they were fortunately not antipodes apart from one another and she was beside him, a couple feet away, in no time. Her tail waved amicably toward him and her ears flattened atop her head. Her shyness made her awkward from time to time, and now was one of them. Even with the scent of youth, the other did not look it[/i]. Before her was a male perhaps larger than she herself, and Nightingale was sufficiently intimidated by that alone. She had her sprightly figure that was good for running, but running wouldn't get her to keep this food.
After her approach, slow and steady, Gale responded. Just making sure the fog wasn't fooling me or anything, and you weren't a bush or... something... else...
Right, good. Nightingale looked ahead and frowned. She took a couple of steps forward and then looked back to him, huffing. Did you see where that bird went off to...?
All good trackers knew that birds knew a great deal about where to find food. She was banking on it, but the thing had winged off quick enough, and the figure of Aleksei had distracted her from her task.
She crept closer, like a feline, really, save for that wag of her tail. In response to her friendly approach, Aleksei's own banner waved through the air. As long as she meant him no harm, he meant her none either. She was smaller than him, with a similar agouti coat that almost could have painted them as relatives ... but, he wasn't one to presume and he was certain he knew all his relatives in the Lore -- Baranski wolves weren't the kind to break away from one another. At least, not for long.
"Aha! Yeah, I'm definitely not a tree or a bush." In fact, the yearling was certain he was the furthest thing possible from the dead trees and shuddering shrubs that barely clung to life. He couldn't help the low chuckle, the cautious posture falling effortlessly from his stance. She didn't seem like a threat and, loath as Aleksei was to think such things, he was sure he could handle her if the tables did turn. What a pretentious thing to tell yourself. Trying to be the picture perfect eldest child caused him to dish himself more punishment than he truly deserved.
The woman mentioned the bird and the agouti adolescent found himself faltering. A little part of him screamed at him to lie, to tell the stranger some random direction so he could reap the spoils for himself ... but, no, that simply wasn't in his moral code. "Uh, I think ... yeah, maybe this way?" He pointed, gesturing with his nose as the air tickled his senses. He studied what little scents he could in the wind and furrowed his brow in concentration. All manner of things leapt out of the mess of smells -- coyotes, foxes, long gone deer -- but something caught him unaware, something he just couldn't place a finger on the source of ... it smelt almost meaty.
"Can you smell that?" It was almost luxurious, like velvet for his sniffer.
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying
Nightingale was relieved with his pleasant response, her tail waving more behind her to match his. It was nice to meet yet another non-hostile wolf; there seemed to be plenty of them here. Only one of them referred to her by another name; as that she wolf had been the only one, Nightingale very much so believed all was well in the world, and it truly was just a mistake. She supposed there were plenty of honey-eyed, tawny women... Iopah probably missed her own distinguishing features (the white mark upon her chest, the two dark marks that hugged around her throat that began at her whithers and never connected). That was alright; everyone made mistakes sometimes, and @Iopah had been grand company to have.
When the other spoke, remarking he was not a tree, Nightingale snorted. The sound was not derisive; rather, it was the clear withholding of a loud laugh. She was laughing at her own expense and error, after all. Keep your cool, she told herself—but the laugh could not be contained, and there it was! It was not the lovely sound of bells like most woman, but an honest-to-God laugh, lips peeled wide open and head thrown back with abandon. What some found not funny, the songbird unfortunately found hilarious. It was an honest mistake! I swear, from afar, you looked... I thought...!
An anxious, breathy laugh was emitted again, and she shook her head at herself, shrugging helplessly. Her sheepish expression said enough: I was wrong.
In watching the other, the wolf who was named for a bird watched him. It didn't occur to her that he'd lie, so she was lucky he didn't. Then again, so, in a way, was he. She did not intend to let this helpful wolf get none of the benefits of that very bird... so she gestured in the direction he had mentioned. She nearly started to move but he asked a question. Her own nose quivered in the cool air, and even despite the dryness the cold brought, there was a distinct wet smell, a musk not of wolf but of... of... Oh, she knew this! But how? Her shoulders rolled as she shifted forward some. Something tells me we're in for a treat. Come on!
She surged forward, moving at a trot before throwing herself into a gallop. This energy could be afforded; she knew, could taste, she was about to feast. Nightingale only pulled at her own reins long enough to be sure her companion was following. She glanced back, woofing loudly in excitement.
Her laughter left him reeling, left his thoughts spinning. It was dramatic, unabashed, bold ... and it was undeniably the best laugh that Aleksei had ever heard. Ever. His mouth hung open slightly as she spluttered her explanation, tickled pink with amusement, his chartreuse eyes fixed on her the whole time. Realising he was gawping, his jaws clicked shut and he swallowed to quell the flutter in his stomach. It was laughter that felt real, the kind that exploded from within and greeted the world around it with a bellowed hello, I'm here! In many ways, it was beautiful.
Hurriedly, he mentally gave himself a good slap across the face; get ahold of yourself. Shaking his pelt as if to shoo away the creeping feeling across his skin, the young male was left utterly perplexed -- what on Earth had left him feeling so ... strange? He didn't like that he didn't understand, not one bit. No sir. So instead, he stole a moment to look away from her, sniffing nonchalantly at the air as if nothing had happened at all. Her words caught his attention fully -- not that she had actually lost it, mind you -- and his eyes snapped back to her with a prick of his ears. A treat? Did she know what that smell was, or was it a case of it had lured her into its spell, too? It didn't matter in all honesty.
She was taking off, and he had every intention to follow her. At least, he would if he could remember how to work his legs. He took a few confused, wobbly steps before stumbling into an ungraceful gallop himself. "W-wait!" Her enthusiastic barks spurred him on as he barely managed to regain control of his limbs, practically thundering through the snow after the mysterious, intriguing woman. "Hey! Wuh-heh! Ah, haha!" Her excitement was clearly infectious, as Aleksei found himself laughing at the feeling of the wind tousling his fur.
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying
Nightingale, in realizing he was not yet with her, waited and heard him holler. Her tail waved behind her, and only when she could hear the drumming of his paws against the snow-laden earth and could see him become a clear figure did she turn and continue onward, letting out an excited whoop at his laughter. Nightingale had endured some measure of misery and loneliness in losing everything, but Nightingale felt that in this place—even if not here, now, this second, this very spot—would bring her what she needed. The idea was exhilarating; another dream, perhaps, but if she was to become a dreamer Nightingale was sure she ought to at least commit and not weep over her {many} faults. It was better to be and feel free of those chains. Answers would come in time. The wolves she had met thus far did not seek to fetter her as the Caldera had. They were patient and kind... understanding, empathetic. They did not laugh at her dreams and tell her, silly girl, we all dream, that doesn't make it real
; they embraced the possibility. Nightingale didn't know she had sought that, but the Caldera was working their way into dulling her edges, shaping her into believing that she was a silly woman...
Maybe she was. But she wanted to find out for herself, and she would, and she would return to the Caldera... eventually... if she was wrong, because her heart was a loyal one, and {to her knowledge} they had never wronged her. But for the moment, she was ever-present, refusing to think of them or any others that might deign to hold her back from seeking what she would. At his second hollering, Nightingale laughed again, a giddy {in the pleasant sense} shriek sounding off as she threw her head back and bayed; they were hunting, after all, but simply for something already dead.
Her long-legged stride had the winged thing in sight again. The scent was strong; her olfactory nerves worked overtime and already, a pool of saliva formed in her mouth. She swallowed a thick glob of it, bellowing, KEEP UP!!!
Before, there in the distance, was a brown blob on the floor, the scent radiating from it in waves. She could hear the wild yip of 'yotes, and Nightingale wheeled abruptly to her left and turned on her heel to look to her new companion. I bet we can take them,
Nightingale hums, tail lifting rigidly behind her as she made herself look as large as she could. That wasn't entirely large, especially beside the barrel-chested stranger... but their two different statures could aid them. He the muscle, she the brown, harassing bullet. They had the chaser and the one who delivered the killing blow. She tilted her head, wondering what he would prefer to do to the carcass that must still be warm, to have such a scent to it. Nightingale had no intent to drag him into anything he didn't desire to do, even despite the mischievous glint in her eye.
It was an almost childish emotion that washed over the Baranski adolescent as he chased after this strange and intriguing woman. It was an unadulterated joy, one that stretched from the tip of his nose to the point of his ink dipped tail. This was perhaps the first time he had felt utterly weightless since returning to his family, the burdens of his own internalised disappointment (in himself) left on the spot where he had started sprinting from.
Aleksei kicked up snow and exposed leaf litter with each stride, bellowing a loud "woo" as he almost began to skip along the trail left by the older wolf. It was nice, really, to revel in the simple things in life; chase had been something he had greatly enjoyed as a cub, with Orren and Karina (when she felt confident enough to, or was simply coaxed into it by her silver-tongued older brother) darting among the trees. This, he came to realise, was no different and it could be -- would be -- enjoyed, no matter his age.
He was determined to have fun with this fascinating female.
Yet, he did not miss the smell of coyotes on the breeze and, as his current company wheeled around to face him, Aleksei skidded to a halt, huffing and panting. His tail whipped at the air behind him. "I bet," he agreed, words peppered with heavy breaths, "there's no way some coyotes will beat us. Let's go!" Excitement and adrenaline was obviously in his veins now; he darted forward like a gallant knight atop a majestic steed. Coyotes were cowardly little things where wolves were, but daring. They made no attempt to fight back -- to do so would be their death sentence! -- but they would push their luck. What they needed was a good and proper shove. "GETOUTTAHERE!" Aleksei practically yowled at the small scavengers, who immediately began to scatter in confusion. Yikes!
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying