Red Fern Forest Wake up

For @Ruenna I just went off of where she last was according to your thread log, if I need to move the thread I can! Hover the text for translation.

Upon re-entering the Lore, Sif had managed to skirt around the pack land that had popped up almost as soon as he’d come in. Why anyone would want to live in those murky woods was beyond him, but that was their business he supposed. Thinking logically, perhaps it provided a good means of cover against attack or had a surprising abundance of prey. There certainly seemed to be plenty of nooks and crannies for a fat squirrel or hare to hide in. Still, it didn’t tickle his fancy enough for him to explore and he preferred to stay plenty far away from the possibility of accidentally going over a border. After all, he did have manners which dictated that if you were going to go near someone’s borders you needed to at least notify them. Yet, since he had no real interest in it he’d decided it was best to keep a respectable distance and continue on his way.

Dreary forest had turned into an impressive display of large trees colored brightly by red ferns at nearly every corner. Now this, this he could get into. It seemed the area was plenty large, and the life that teemed in it made him wonder why no one had decided to claim it. Yet, taking a big sniff he soon found the reason why. Coming from upwind blew the scent of another pack, not as strong as the one before but certainly still there. It seemed the Red Fern Forest was smack dab in between two packs, and then it made much more sense. Still, to him it seemed like such a waste.

As he’d been traveling most of the day, Sif thought this area was as good a place to take a pit stop. Have a nice meal and enjoy the scenery, trying to ignore the humidity that was slowly seeping into his thick Russian pelt. He was meant for much colder climates, that much was for certain with his bulky frame. A sigh rumbled from his chest as he prepared for a hunt, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. YA , Sif Mikhaylovich , vash pokornyy Septon , prizyvayem Kroun vesti menya v etoy okhote . Pozvol'te mne sdelat' pravil'nyy vybor respektabel'nykh , chtoby ya mog s"yest' i prodolzhit' tsikl zhizni . YA prizyvayu Voina , chtoby dat' mne sily , chtoby nachat' i zakonchit' etu okhotu , i ya prizyvayu svyatoy Materi , chtoby derzhat' menya milostivym v moyem ubiystve . Amin'. he prayed. Opening his mismatched gaze, he steeled himself and prepared for the hunt.

(This post was last modified: Jun 10, 2016, 04:44 PM by Sif.)

It felt weird to walk among the dense red. The feeling was not second-hand, but more third-hand; her father had been too young to really remember the fire, but he'd told her all about it from the perspective of his older siblings, and she could remember every detail. Most of all, it was the description of the colours which stuck with her, which she was reminded of every sun rise and fall, when, for at least a few heartbeats, she'd think of the wolves she was related to but would never know. They'd never be forgotten so long as she was alive, even if their realities were so far apart.

It hadn't stopped her from quickly diving down among the ferns, revelling at their hue against her more muted pelt, at how their leaves reminded her of giant feathers. What kind of grand bird would wear plumage like this? She'd been creeping through the red forest when a deep, exotic voice resonated somewhere nearby, made soft by distance. She listened for a few moments before realising that they were words, but none that she recognised, and that fact sent a shiver of insatiable excitement down her spine. By the time she was close to this wolf with the strange words, he had finished, and she could see the large, dark-coated man who had uttered them. There was a hardness about his face and posture which should have told her not to disturb him, but Rue was generally warning-sign-blind. "I've never heard that language before," she half-whispered, stepping out so that he wouldn't think she was hiding from him, the words meant to be heard but softened by awe. 

The male tilted his head back and drew in the scents around him, trying to pin-point just what, exactly, he wanted to go for. Red Squirrel…no that was too small, Snowshoe Hare…the scent too old, but two white-tail deer…much more promising. The scent of milk was vague within the scent, hinting at one of the two being a juvenile. Bingo, he’d found his match! But, there was something else that he’d caught whilst tracking that he couldn’t quite put his paw on. Something that he felt he should be recognizing. Drawing in another sniff, he realized that he’d make a crucial mistake. He’d been too preoccupied that he’d missed the approach of another. By the time he’d make this connection, a soft voice echoed in the otherwise quiet forest.

"I've never heard that language before," she whispered, and Sif turned roughly to face the woman. She was several inches shorter than he was, though that was normal given the mammoth of a Russian hulk he was, with a tawny pelt of ambers, browns, and creams. Perhaps the most interesting part about her appearance was the pair of tear-like stained that trailed down her muzzle. Taking in her appearance and her soft voice, as he had no idea this was certainly not her natural state, he was able to easily mistake her for a ‘damsel in distress’.

“Not surprise, Russian not very common in this land.” he replied choppily, speaking from past experience. He’d not really had much of a chance to practice his English in his time away from Lore, so it truly wasn’t any better than it had been. “What is name, neznakomets?I am Sif Mikhailovich.”

(This post was last modified: Jun 14, 2016, 07:46 AM by Sif.)

Fortunately, when the man turned to look at her, there was no hostility in his face. Rue was pretty used to having to be quick on her feet after finding out that an interruption was most definitely unwelcome, and similarly was good at interpreting that moment of surprise which was visible when first announcing herself. This guy was big and rough-looking, but he bore no teeth and raised no hackles, nor yelled at her, which were always excellent signs! The best indication, though, was when he replied, voice thick with an accent which seemed to suit his previous words so much better than these ones, and yet she very much liked how they sounded. Rolling and smooth, with a curious omission of certain words to make a more normal-sounding sentence, and yet she understood him perfectly! What a marvellous thing. Russian, he called it. The word was dutifully scribbled down in a special tome and placed open on a table, eager and ready to be inscribed with more details.

And not only that, but when he turned his head, she could quite clearly see the distinct colours of each of his eyes, a strong orange to complement the strong blue - another curious and marvellous thing! Her mounting delight was quickly translating onto her face, eyes bright and smile wide. "That is a mad-cool name," she said, stepping forward just enough to get out of the ferns, not wanting to be rude and hide in the bushes the whole time. Her tail hung behind her, waving merrily from side to side. "I definitely can't say it - Sif-mih-hallofish. Hah! Sorry, I had to. I'm just Rue, much easier, way more boring. What were - I mean, if it's okay to ask, I don't wanna be rude - what were you saying, earlier?" It sounded like the regular intonations of worship, something she'd seen many times by many different wolves to their many different grand recipients, but she could be wrong. She often talked to herself, and detailing the life and story of the bump on her uncle's nose could hardly be considered prayer.

It seemed, as the conversation went on, that this girl was certainly no damsel in distress. With each moment, the energy she seemed to be emitting increased until he swore she would start physically buzzing with it. She gushed over his name, causing him to raise a brow in surprise. He really didn’t think his name to be anything to be perfectly honest. Back at the Krai it had certainly meant something, being the son of the leader, but that was very likely a part of the reason he had left. To him, his name meant nothing now. The people who held it had ruined it, smashed it to pieces and tried to glue back together a broken crown. The moral standings that had once comprised it were the only things keeping him from throwing out the name all together, embarrassed of the shame he felt when he thought of it at all. The Mikhailovich line had once been strong, respectable, dependable wolves, but corruption could infiltrate even the purest of lines it seemed.

Sif nearly scoffed as the girl tried to say his name, stuttering over the gruff pronunciation it took to say correctly. Then, she fluttered right on flowing from one topic to the next so quickly that he had trouble catching and understanding everything she was saying. He understood bits and pieces, such as her name, and the basics of her question about what he had been doing. He pondered for a moment, thinking on what to say and how to say it with a look of concentration. “Sif fine to say. Rue also fine name, strong name,” he rumbled. “I was praying to 7 Gods, asking for strength on hunt from Mother, Crone, and Warrior. You would like to join, perhaps?” Even though the male was strong, it would take more than just him to take down a deer. Perhaps with her help, they could even take down the doe and get more food in the long run.

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

Fortunately, Sif took no obvious offense to her floundering, laughing attempts, but Rue was oblivious enough that she may not have noticed it. Just as she failed to notice that he struggled to keep up with her mile-a-minute talking, and now that she'd gotten over the initial bump of introduction, she was only accelerating.

Rue beamed at his judgement of her name, puffing out her chest slightly and wiggling her shoulders in a somewhat theatrical display of shy pride. "You are so so kind to say that," she'd croon, but what he went on to say next was far far more interesting. She didn't need to consult her library to know that she hadn't heard of the seven Gods before, or either of the three he mentioned by name. Three Gods, yes, and once a pack who worshiped no fewer than thirteen - but those had been Goddesses, every single one - and she knew of wolves who prayed to a 'mother', and those were alongside a vast array of single-deity religions, but this was new. And new was exciting.

"I would love to!" she gasped, but as would become clear soon, she had utterly misinterpreted his question. "But I don't know the words! I would hate to mess it up for you and cause offense - what should we say? Can you teach me? Who are the other four? Do they not help with hunts, too?"

Sif watched Rue puff up her chest, reminding him strongly of a male peacock. The birds were boastful and arrogant in his opinion, and while the woman had to yet to strike him as such the comparison still remained. She seemed to gush excitedly over his comment on her name, and with each passing minute the Russian man couldn’t tell if he liked or disliked her. She was rambunctious and easily excitable, the complete opposite of any of the members of the Mountain had been. The pups had had their playtime, but roughly around 6 months of age they would start learning and being integrated into the strict pack law. While not everything and everyone was dry, the atmosphere was never centered around family unless it was to boast upon your name.

The teary-eye’d female gasped, going off on another tangent of quick verbal assault that left the non-native Russian reeling on his feet. It seemed that she’d misunderstood his invitation, as he’d been inviting her to join the hunt not pray to the Gods. But, perhaps it could be a win win for both. Sif was more than willing to pass his religion on to anyone who expressed interest. He knew that there were other beliefs in the world, and while he did not believe in them or their liability if these wolves wanted to remain in their ignorance then he would allow them that. Ignorance was bliss in many aspects. After he was done teaching her, perhaps she would then join him. If not, he supposed it would be smaller prey for the mean time.

“No say wrong thing, Seven ask for respect only. English fine for praying.” he assured her with a rough nod of his head. “Is only one God, but God has seven faces. Each face do different thing, but help all the same. Father is justice, he judge your life and soul when you die. Mother is all things good, very good to females. Help you be merciful and help women in pregnancy and birth. Maiden is all thing love and innocent. Crone help with, how you say, wisdom. She very good for hunt. Warrior is strength and courage, he very important where I from. Smith help with creation, making things. Ideas. Finally, Stranger. Stranger scariest of seven faces. He represent death and unknown, no one pray to him usually. Less you’re dying maybe.”