where the wild things are

For @Bennet as mother and daughter travel to their new home. Because of proximity to White Fir Notch, this is open to WFN wolves as well. Also, this is backdated for the end of August.

Karina had traveled this way twice before; once as yearling when the River wolves relocated and then again during her walkabout last winter.  Neither of those journeys could compare at all to her experience now, forging on toward the Mountain as a lone wolf (for the first time ever) with her young daughter in tow.  I may be packless, but I’m not alone, Karina thought to herself, smiling as she watched her daughter’s form weaving in and out of the shadows up ahead.  
 
The ex-princess had always thought that the trees in this part of the Lore seemed to cast longer, gloomier shadows, and she wished she could have avoided traveling through the Ghastly Woods. However, the only other option would have been traveling down the eastern side of the Pass, and according to Kjors there was a pack of less-than-friendly wolves in that direction. This route was certainly drearier, but at least the gloom of this territory ensured that they would encounter no packwolves. Who would want settle down here, after all?
 
Karina halted suddenly as an alarming scent—or really grouping of scents-- met her nose. It was unmistakably a pack; one that had certainly not been here the last time she traveled this way. The pair had come too far to turn around now though, so all they could do was move quickly and hope this strange pack wasn’t overly hostile. 
 
She emitted a soft woof to capture Bennet’s attention. “Smell that, darling?” Karina asked in a low voice. Hearthwood River was the only pack the young Kjorson had ever known, so her mother imagined that detecting the scents of a strange pack could be confusing.  “We need to be careful to remain outside this pack’s territory markers,” mother reminded daughter, “See if you can find one.” She liked to make Bennet’s lessons into little games like this.  “You remember how to behave if we see a pack wolf?” Fun and games aside, she had made sure to impress the seriousness of their situation upon Bennet when they left Hearthwood.  “We are royalty in Dragonveil, but we are lower than a Lowest until we get there.” 

(This post was last modified: Sep 23, 2016, 03:36 PM by Karina. Edit Reason: backdate )

Her black fur drank up the shadows effortlessly, only making any real difference to the pale saddle on her back, which still seemed to be growing more silver every day. The air was cool and crisp and she relished it with every inhale, for the trees here just smelled so different to the river she had lived beside what felt like her whole life so far. She could still hear with perfect clarity the sounds of it, the constant, musical trickle which had always had Kyrios so entranced. Many times she had come across her milk brother with his eyes cast down onto the glassy surface, and now she likely never would again. It would have been entirely rational to have that knowledge accompanied by some notion of sorrow or loss, but Bennet merely observed it in the same way she took note of any interesting tidbit. It was reality. She couldn't change it, and she didn't care to. The only way forwards was forwards.

Innocent to the ways and dangers of a loner's life, while she had noticed the scent of other wolves the girl had ignored them in much the same way she ignored anything irrelevant to herself, her family or Her, and it wasn't until her mother's soft woof did Bennet pause and glance back, tail and ears rising in obedient and interested attentiveness. As her mother spoke, Bennet realised her mistake in discarding the strange scents, and easily recalled and focused on the teachings that had been given to her not so long ago. "Be respectful and keep my distance," she replied evenly, confident and unafraid despite all the unknowns and new experiences which loomed ahead - and which they had already endured. The challenge to find the scent had immediately taken root and while she was eager to turn back and skip ahead to search for one - while reminding herself of the rule she had just recited - she hesitated enough to ask: "We're going past this pack, aren't we? Is he still meeting us there?" There was only one important male in her life - there would be no doubt as to who she was talking about.

“Exactly,”  Karina replied, her pride obvious from her tone.  Bennet had an excellent memory and an extraordinary, almost mechanical follow-through that Karina had never possessed as a pup.  Karina’s emotions and anxiety had hindered her in her younger days, but it was clear that Bennet had instead inherited her father’s cool, calculating mind and decisive manner. Thank the Mother.

 “Of course, love. Where else would a dragon go, but Dragonveil?”  If Kjors wasn’t there when they arrived, he would be along shortly. Of this Karina was absolutely certain. “Find south for me, darling.” Bennet had been taught to tell her directions by the sun and by the stars, and at this point in the evening she had both the sunset and a few early, winking stars to guide her. Bennet had already had quite a bit of practice finding south, seeing as it was the direction they had been traveling since they left Kingsfall. 

After south had been located, Karina continued.  “See that mountain there? It is the tallest in Relic Lore. That is where we are going. That is where your fa—where Uncle Kjors will be.”  Now that they were away from the River, Karina had relaxed her mental rigor in guarding against all dangerous thoughts of Bennet’s paternity, but this was the first time she had been so close to letting the secret slip. 
 
Hoping to direct Bennet’s attention away from her almost-slip, she quickly followed with, “Now, can you find that border marker? Tell me how many wolves you smell on it.”  Karina herself had a knack for scents, and she could already tell that the nearest border marker was emanating from a particularly large, gnarled tree at toward the edge of her weak vision. 

(This post was last modified: Oct 03, 2016, 04:34 PM by Karina.)

   

    
 

The confirmation brought a pleased twitch to the corner of her mouth, but otherwise Bennet was not smug in her correctness. Where else would a dragon go, she wondered herself, and if they were not dragons, she also wondered what kind of wolves lived in this pack that they were so carefully skirting. Not that there had been any dragons in Hearthwood either apart from Kjors, and an overall lack of faith entirely which Bennet had found profoundly disappointing the more she learned about it. It was almost like something she wasn't supposed to talk about and be proud of, and while she obeyed any such instruction, she had never understood it. The only way she had been able to rationalise it was that they were lesser. And these wolves were probably the same, otherwise her mother or Kjors would have told her about them earlier.

So, if dragons went to Dragonveil... would there be more than just Kjors there?

On being asked for 'south' the girl turned her nose to the sky, searching for those tell tale signs she had been so diligently taught - and had so diligently learned. It was conveniently the direction they had been mostly, and her smile grew as she looked back to her mother, turning herself so that she faced south as well as she could estimate it. Moments later her attention was drawn to the mountain which rose up over the tree line, and upon learning that they were to climb it, to be so very high up, Bennet felt a sudden giddy pleasure. How she loved the sky and all that lived in it! Perhaps now she would be able to get closer to the shadows she had loved as a child and since learned as birds, which must surely be relatives of dragons, and perhaps she would get a chance to stretch her own wings -

Normally keenly observant, Bennet missed the slip of the tongue which might have hinted at her relation to Kjors, and her mother's swift reminder of her task cemented that miss. Attention quickly transported from the far-off mountain to the trees and foliage around her, Bennet's nose went to the ground and she skipped ahead, searching for where the wolf-smell was strongest. She had thought to find some marker on a patch of well-trodden earth when her nose abruptly corrected her, and it was not long until she trotted towards the tree which her mother had already identified. "Three," she said confidently, then frowned, and corrected herself: "maybe four. Only one male... the rest are female."

She looked back at her mother, and where normally she would have requested confirmation as to whether or not she was right, something told her that, this time, the answer was not necessarily on her mother's lips. "Should we walk more west? I don't want to antagonise them by being too close." And I'm not fully trained yet, not enough to just blow them all away.

Someone was close, their proximity worth investigating. Half expecting a howl to be sent up at any moment, the longer the silence pressed on, the more urgent his steps became. Who was so bold as to lurk at the outskirts of his claim? There could be many explanations for it, but the risk of any of them being ill-intended was too much to let slide. His strong legs took him quickly to their location, glacial eyes flashing and ears pressed forward to catch any and all traces of these interlopers.

Once near enough to catch voices, his fur raised at his hackles as he overheard a young voice attempting to count the number of wolves dwelling within his pack. This uneasiness was just as swiftly soothed by the child's following recommendation, and when he broke through the foliage to see them both, he nearly was able to be calm. Eyes setting upon the young mother, Gent felt a conflicting mixture of emotions. Faintly, she and her progeny still smelled of the River. Yet he could recall her still, in worse wear, ringing the alarm for the boar that had threatened to defile Minka's resting place.

"It's you," Gent acknowledged, strides drawing to a close. A single brow was arched quizzically, wondering why she was here, with a child, and with the scent of her pack so faded.

"You're a long way from home, River wolf."

He wanted to thank her for before, however he needed to know first that her presence did not foreshadow something worse upon the horizon.

There is a rabbit's nest nearby. +1 Health

The bushes rustled gently as a black shape dug around the base. Sylva hummed quietly to herself as she checked up on the remaining growth of the herbs in the area. The recent and unexpected shower of snow had caused the medic in training to become concerned, worried that the frost might have damaged the plants. A small sigh of relief escaped the yearling’s muzzle as she had yet to find any noticeable damage on her precious plants.

Her nose twitched slightly as the breeze carried a vaguely familiar scent toward her, and it was close. “That...close.” The girl mused as she wriggled out from under the bush and padded off in the direction of the breeze, curious now why the smell was so close to her pack’s boundaries.

Eventually, Sylva stepped though some ferns, coming up from behind some trees to find Gent and two unknown wolves before her. She ducked her muzzled toward the ground upon seeing her Alpha present “Sir.” She added quietly, glancing toward the apparent mother and her pup when a flash of recognition sparked.

“Karina! You have a daughter!?” She would have rushed forward to greet her friend had Gent not been there, but for now Sylva had to wait, she wasn't going to try and look foolish in front of Gent again.

“Excellent!”  Karina replied, feeling almost overwhelmed by her pride in her daughter.  Even from this distance she could tell that her daughter’s answer was very close to if not perfectly correct. Karina approached the marker then, inhaling deeply. “Definitely four, maybe even five,” she reported, “Very well done.”  Her tongue swiped over Bennet’s crown a few times. “All female, aside from one… male..” she confirmed, trailing off in uncertainty as she recognized the scent of the one male.

 Gent. 
 
His scent was different, now that he lived in this thicket as opposed to the foothills of the mountains, but it was unmistakable to Karina’s sharp nose.  This was not some unknown, newly established pack, as she had originally thought upon scenting their border.  This was Round Stone Crest- or what used to be the Crest—and Karina knew her and Bennet’s former status as River wolves would not be appreciated at Gent’s border.
 
Perhaps Bennet picked up on her mother’s shift toward uncertainty and wariness, because she suggested moving west around the pack.  “You’re right,” she told her daughter, adding the qualification, “West would be safest.. but East would be quickest.”  If they deviated westward, they would have to travel in a long, arcing pattern to swing back around to the Mountain, which was southeast of their current location. Eastward travel would run them up against the western border of the Pass for the course of their journey, cutting down time but essentially trapping them should they come upon a situation from which they needed to escape.  It was a difficult decision, and the young mother’s deliberation was interrupted by the arrival of Gent himself.
 
Karina whuffed for her daughter to get behind her her, lowering her body to the ground in submissive (but also defensive) posture.  “Yes, sir,” was her deferential answer to Gent’s comment of, “It’s you.”  No doubt he was referring their brief encounter last winter, when Karina alerted the Crest to the boar in their territory.  Karina got the feeling he was expecting her to introduce herself, but she remained silent. She hoped Bennet would do the same. “Be a rock,” she wished she could say to her daughter, who knew that meant, “it is best for you to keep silent.”
 
“I might say the same thing to a Crest wolf, sir.”  Karina answered, mind racing, trying to find a way out of this dilatory conversation so she and Bennet might continue on their way unhindered.  “Your new home is.. remarkable,” she continued, groping for a word to apply to this horrid forest that might sound like a compliment. “Congratulations. My daughter and I are just passing through, we meant no harm. I.. we-- are River wolves no longer.”
 
It was a bit of a tossup, whether it was best to reveal their lone wolf status to Gent. On the one paw, allowing him to continue believing they were River wolves might provide them some protection (even Gent would think twice before risking the wrath of the River). On the other paw though, Gent knew that Karina and Bennet now had valuable information about his pack and its location. Would he really let them go if he thought they might return to the River to give a report?  “We’re going southward, and have no reason to ever return this direction.”  Karina wanted to make certain that Gent understood that their presence was no risk to his pack.
 
Karina hoped that information might be enough to grant the pair leave, but she knew not to move until she was dismissed.  To her horror, Sylva came bounding up then, and Karina wilted on the inside. It wasn’t that she disliked Sylva—much the opposite, in fact—but Karina had really been banking on wrapping up this conversation quickly so she and Bennet could depart to a safer location. “Hello Sylva,” Karina said, wincing inwardly as the young wolf blurted out her name.  “Yes, this is my daughter, Sorren.”  The lie slipped quickly from Karina’s tongue as she created a name for Bennet that was a combination of the names belonging to the girl’s grandfather and uncle.  Thanks to Sylva, Gent now knew Karina’s identity, but the Mother willing he would not know Bennet’s.  “Sorren, sweetheart, say hello to Miss Sylva and King Gent. “  Karina turned away from the Notch wolves in order to speak to her daughter, eyes widening pointedly in an attempt to communicate, “just go with it.” 

(This post was last modified: Oct 10, 2016, 05:03 PM by Karina.)

   

    
 

Once more the inky child received her praise with quiet pleasure, pressing her brow into her mother's proud kisses. Brightly glancing up at Karina as she confirmed the numbers, Bennet did not miss the sudden distraction in her voice, and stared for a moment before deciding not to question it. If it was important, then surely her mother would share - but Bennet filed it away all the same.

It turned out that she didn't need to store it for long.

Just as soon as the matter turned into east versus west, so did the very reason for such consideration make himself known - and the sharp girl took note of the dark stranger's gender, the way he seemed to know her mother, the way she had said 'one male'. Instantly Karina's posture became submissive, but not before a familiar instruction, and Bennet took two deliberate steps back and one to the side in order to place herself between her parent and the large black wolf. The act of cowardice, however sensible, prickled at her spine. Kjors would never have hidden behind someone else. Though she stood where told, ducked her head and held her tongue, the fire shone in her eyes for anyone looking to see it.

And even this trio was not alone; another woman came bounding up, smaller, less dominant-looking, but Bennet eyed her with the same cool, wary silence as the man who - as her nose indicated - was clearly her packmate. Bennet recognised both of them from the marker her mother had told her to inspect. Listening passively to the conversation between them, hearing the careful defensiveness of her mother and deduced that, while they were not directly in danger, this was not an encounter that her mother had wanted. River wolves no longer. The statement brought no remorse or regret or nostalgia to her breast, something which Bennet observed in herself with a neutral interest, but far more pressing was the fact that she'd just been introduced with the wrong name.

So who were these wolves, this @Gent and @Sylva, and why was her mother lying to them? "Hello," she offered, perfectly able to decipher the message in her mother's glance and inject a little taste of sweetness into her tone, a hint of shyness to dissuade them from trying to talk to her. She could be polite, respectful, just like they'd discussed, and do her bit to help them both get out of this encounter that her mother so clearly wanted to escape.

The change in her posture once she recognized his presence was to be expected. She was alone with a child, her own child, making them both vulnerable in a unique way. Even if her brain were oblivious to this, her instincts would speak up, and loudly. Furthermore, Gent knew nothing more of the young woman than that one howl months ago. There was no reason for him to think it peculiar how much she wanted to gloss over their interaction, and he continued to be unaware of just how thoroughly his name had been stained in Kingsfall.

His ears perked when she separated herself officialy from the River pack, and he had to wonder what would bring a mother with a child to care for to leave the protection of a pack. In all truth, he wanted to ask, to have a real conversation with the young ghost. Then she further irked his curiosity by promising not to return. Why did she think he wanted to hear that? His tongue curled his mouth, the words built up higher than the dam of reservation. Before a word further could come from betwixt his jaws, however, sounds behind him interrupted.

His ears swiveled back to catch Sylva's approach and greeting. He was thankful not only that she had taken the initiative to investigate as he had, but also that she had not made one of her signature, clumsy entrances. Instead, she surprised him with knowing the woman's name.

Pale eyes glanced from his dark comrade to Karina and then her daughter as the child was introduced. Sorren, was it?

"I never got to thank you," he decided to start with, solemn features focusing on the mother. "For warning us about the boar. Where it was... that place meant a lot to us. Still does. Thank you."