Windsong Fjord reassemble

Light snow
38 ° F, 4 ° C

TERRITORY DISCOVERY - Sunrise Ridge 
Nestled between Windsong Fjord and Mountain of Dire 
For most of the year the meadow isn’t anything extraordinary. After maneuvering through a dense forest the trees begin to decrease in number, growing in sparse clumps and sporadically throughout the clearing. These alpine larches, during their off season, are nothing to stop for; however, come fall, their needles begin to change. From late September to the beginning of November, the meadow appears to be on fire. The larches begin to change from green to orange, at a leisurely pace. The best time to visit is on a clear day, although it is just as beautiful when covered in a dusting of snow or beneath grey skies. As the first week of November rolls in, the needles drop, and all that remains is empty black trunks, giving the clearing an unsettling appearance. 

Pictures: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Taken by me @ Frosty Mt./Larches Meadow in E.C. Manning Park, BC

Since the pack had settled in the lowlands Greer had been bombarded with scouting missions. He did not mind, for he liked being of help to his sister and her mate (was that what they were?), but all these missions were putting a serious damper on his exploration of the neighbouring territories. While he had seen bits and pieces of the expanse during his trips, there was never much time to fully explore the area. Celandine accompanied him on most missions, which meant there was little time for dawdling. He made mental notes, as they went, of the areas he wanted to explore without the pale wolf at his side.

Surprisingly, he did not completely detest her presence — but that did not mean he wanted her around at all times. Greer still preferred to be on his own — he always would — and he was getting a little antsy being surrounded by packmates all the time. The Whitestone wolves were certainly closer than his disintegrating birth pack, but lurking around the monadnock was suffocating…

So the shadow headed west in search of a ridge he had spotted during his travels with Celandine. At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about the ridge, aside from the fact that it faintly reminded him of home. Greer started his venture a few hours before the sun was about to rise — it was no surprise that sleep evaded the slender shadow. When insomnia struck he was often found meandering about the rock, in search of something to occupy his time…

Snow started to fall as he weaved through the dense forest, his eyes focused on something peculiar in the distance. At first glance it appeared as though the sun was peaking through the canopy, threatening to spill over his obsidian coat. Curious, his pace quickened, brows pinched together as the trees began to clear. Before him was a rather plain clearing, spotted with a few trees here and there — some patches heavier than others — but what was most remarkable was the alarming colour of the coniferous trees. They were a dazzling combination of gold and orange hues illuminated by the climbing sun. What a strange sight — Greer was unaware that some needle trees were capable of changing colour as the months grew colder. How many other wolves had stumbled upon this fiery clearing before him? He sniffed instinctively, his mercury eyes scouting the area for signs of another. If a wolf had passed through here it had not been in quite some time… perhaps it was before the trees started to change, and the wolf — or creature — had overlooked the ridge in search of something else.

Once the initial shock wore off, the shadow crept to the edge of the ridge, his hindquarters folding against the snow dusted ground as he settled down to watch the sun creep over the mountains. 

That place is gorgeous!

Of all the wolves who had traveled north with them, Craw had not predicted that it would be Celandine Argyris and Greer Archer who, quite possibly, pulled their weight the most of them all. And it wasn't like the bar of standards was placed low; Wraith was diligent, Capable tireless, and their newest member Lorcan a pillar of productivity. But Craw hadn't explicitly asked of them quite as much as he had of the two wolves who had fallen into the scout role, and despite both being distant and cool personalities who always seemed to prefer their own company to anybody else's, neither had disappointed him.

It hadn't gone unnoticed.

Coming across Greer's trail had been a complete accident; Craw himself had been travelling back to the pack's territory after spending the latter half of the night on the move. Sleep had come ill to him, and rather than toss and turn and struggle, he had chosen to do as @Isuni and simply keep odd hours, this one time at least. After passing his tongue over the sleeping brows of Morganna and their children he had spent an uneventful but peaceful number of hours wandering the lowlands, enjoying the almost-smothering cold and quiet of the tundra. The first hint of purple on the horizon had prompted him to turn his feet back towards Whitestone, and not long afterwards he had stumbled across the shadow's fresh trail. It had only occurred to him recently that, by all accounts, he should think of the young man as a brother, much like Morganna did. Craw had never had any siblings. The notion had felt strange the first time and so it still did now, but it was not so hard to reason with. All of the Whitestone wolves were family, it was not so different. But Greer Archer was set apart by light-years from his other blood siblings by being one of them, by proving that he was not tethered to the rot of the willows. By showing that he deserved to be one of them just as much as any of them did.

As the sun rose, it grew slightly easier to see the man's pawprints in the snow, left almost delicately, with the same stealth that Craw had come to expect from the shadow. It was a simple, trivial thing, but it pleased Craw nonetheless. The spider tracked through the lowlands and through the southern forest, and then the trees began to clear and a similar through struck Craw as it had with Greer as the pale wolf glanced up and saw the fire-edged trees and briefly marveled at them. But then his gaze dropped and there was a familiar silhouette, perched by the edge of the ridge he could just make out, and Craw exhaled softly as he felt the wash of satisfaction and affection run through his chest.

There was no need for words. The snow crunched gently under his paws as he approached, making no attempt to hide it, coming to stand beside the slender wolf and share in this strange place he had found.

<3 @Craw

Greer never grew tired of being alone. He relished in the moments he had to himself, when the silence was deafening and the air was undisturbed. These moments were getting harder to find, especially with little ones running around Whitestone. Despite how much he loved the little Archers, their appearance often prompted him to seek (temporary) solitude. To avoid clap-back for his little excursions, the shadow did his best to maintain the caches and secure the borders — as well as poking his nose around to bring intel back to the monadnock. Speaking was not his forte, but listening and lurking he excelled at. He learned a lot more from observing than he did — or would — from conversing.

More often than not, the solitude did not last. Occasionally, amongst the bad company, there were a few good wolves tossed at him. Ones that respected the silence and did not fill the space between them with wasted words. They were not as common as the wolves Greer quickly dismissed, but their appearances were welcomed.

He was a fan of the in-between seasons. Spring and fall was when the shadow truly excelled. Overcast days made it much easier for scouting (and lurking without being noticed), along with days filled with rain. Summer, while often well-received by the Archer, was not ideal. The sun plus his ebony fur equaled disaster. Days were spent searching for bodies of water to throw himself into, or seeking shade to bury himself under. The cold weather of winter was appealing, but once again, his the colour of his coat got him into trouble. Once snow covered the Lore it became impossible to blend into his surroundings, which meant Greer was even grumpier than usual.

As snow dusted his shoulders he could feel the scowl cut into his slender maw. His ears twitched in irritation, brows knitted firmly together as he tried to focus on something in the distance. A sound, behind him, caused his focus to detour, a familiar scent filling his nostrils. Greer dipped his head in greeting as the silver wolf stood beside him, although his mercury gaze was still fixated on the orange sky before them. The sun had begun to illuminate the trees around them, causing the ridge to appear to be on fire. It truly was a remarkable place. 

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity

The shadow barely moved in acknowledgement of his company save to bow his head, but Craw forgave it in the face of such unusual splendour. It was not as though the young, quiet man was in need of overt deference, his loyalty and dedication made clear every day. Though Craw often paired the Archer-Lyall with Celandine, and they both shared distinct anti-social qualities, their numerous differences could not have been clearer. Greer did not talk back or roll his eyes, he did not grumble or question. Craw did not presume that this was for his benefit alone; the dark man had enough family here to explain his dedication, and clearly loved and respected his sister and her children. While Morganna's younger brother had been quite an unknown element when they left, he had proven his worth ten times over. Out of his own respect for Greer's disinclination towards talk, Craw had been similarly content to leave it at that - but over time, he had watched the shadow, and wondered.

He didn't know Greer. And while that wasn't a concern in and of itself, his curiosity was largely borne by the neighbouring question of... how much was there to know? If the shadow was as straightforward as he appeared, then fine, but what if there was more? Celandine had been absent for longer and longer periods of time the past few weeks, and Craw had his suspicions regarding her intentions. He did not want to be taken by surprise by anyone else.

As the sun rose and appeared to set the trees alight, Craw watched them for a time in his subordinate's company, mulling over what, exactly, he wanted to know, and, more importantly, how to make the questions amenable to Greer. The man had clearly come for some peace, to admire the curiosity before them, and Craw hardly wanted to breed any resentment.

He settled on one question, tailored in such a way that it could be answered with just the movement of a head. Keeping it straightforward was the order of the day. He did not look at Greer yet, content to gaze at the blazing trees, wanting to maintain the fact that this was meant to be casual. "Do you ever regret leaving the willows?"

award to making everyone wait super long for replies goes to: me :c so sorry <3
@Craw

In the beginning, he had been unsure of the spider. He was still a little unsure of the older male, but he kept these feelings bottled up and shoved deep, deep down. The shadow knew how much Craw cared for his older sister—he had proven this time and time again—which made him feel a little more at ease. He was also good with the little ones, and doted on them as if they were his own. Greer was always cautious around both strangers and those closest to him. Family had proven to be distrustful back in the willows, and strangers were always unpredictable. They did not hesitate to put on a facade in order to impress, but the disguise only lasted so long. The selective mute had always been good at seeing through masks and being a good judge of (bad) character. Which was why Craw made him so anxious; he was difficult to read at times and it frustrated the Archer.

His ears flattened against his skull as the silver wolf spoke, a simple question disturbing the silence that had engulfed them. With his mercury gaze still fixated on the bleeding sky before them the shadow answered quickly, the single word cutting through the air like a knife: “No.” Craw had not been around long enough to see the unrepairable damage unfold. An empire had begun to fall, piece by piece, and a struggle for power ensued. Greer could not stomach being around such uncertainty. He had wanted to leave for many months, especially after his fall out with Hecate, but Craw’s announcement that he was leaving with Morg had been the out he had been desperately looking for. “Willows not Greer home. Not for long time,” he added, the malice in his voice evident in the way the words dripped, like venom, from his tongue. 

pff I've done so much worse it's not nearly worth apologising for <33

While prepared for silence, Craw was treated to much more than he expected. The singular, sharply-spoken word made his brows rise, though much like Greer, Craw kept his gaze ahead, even if the ear closest to the black wolf did swivel in his direction accordingly.

No. Said without hesitation or doubt, Craw knew better than to second-guess the things that Greer chose to say. A wolf of few words did not waste time mincing them. The spider felt a vicious pleasure at the hint of venom in his subordinate's tone, at the idea that they may both have shared resentment over what had happened in the willows. Craw did not presume that his own reasons were greater than Greer's, who had been born and raised within the Ridge, and whose feelings on the matter no doubt ran much deeper. This was, at least, quite the confirmation that Greer had feelings at all - and only heightened Craw's desire to learn more about them.

The spider would be treated to more of the shadow's precious words, and entirely unprovoked. This time, Craw was unable to resist turning to look at Greer as he made his opinion perfectly and crystal clear. Craw's gaze lingered for a few moments, his rough tongue wetting dried and hungry lips, before he exhaled softly and looked back at the bright line of trees. Silence hung over them for a long moment, broken only by the wind and the air passing over the gravel in Craw's throat.

Eventually, he spoke, again deliberately. "I understand." A gentle inhale, the soft rattle, and a strange peacefulness. "I hope you view Whitestone differently." Once more he turned to look at the slender creature at his side, still burning with curiosity, but still restrained. Once more he chose to say nothing which would demand a more complex response than subtle movement. "I want you to know that your hard work here is noticed and appreciated, Greer."

The longer the shadow sat with the silver wolf the more he realized how much he reminded him of his sister. They were similar, in some aspects, but different in others. Morganna was bold and brash, her tongue like hot electricity as it cut through the air. She was, after all, Elettra’s daughter. Craw was on the other side of the spectrum—his words were more calculated; spoken with precision.

Ying and yang.

Were he and Kyna like that? He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his thoughts, his brows furrowing slightly.

To the duo, trust was something to be earned. His inky sister had always been this way, for it had been enforced into Archer’s at a young age. As Greer observed Craw—both closely and from afar—it was evident that this trait was deeply rooted within him, as well. They worked well together and while Greer would have liked to see Willow Ridge return to its former glory, he was glad that the pair had decided to relocate. He was still adjusting, for the lowlands were vastly different from the forests he was used to, but he felt better. Ish. Morganna was happy and the pups were healthy—that was all that mattered to him.

After embracing the silence that settled between them, the spider spoke once more, his voice filling the still morning air. The boy nodded softly in response, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth as he mulled over his thoughts. Words hesitated on the tip of his tongue, threatening to fall as Craw spoke once more, this time addressing the shadow’s work ethic. His brows lifted in surprise, cheeks warm as his head dipped lower. “Thank,” he responded, quietly, almost bashfully. The shadow was not used to praise—unless it was coming from his scarlet friend. “Whitestone home,” he added, his voice still small. Whitestone wasn’t quite home yet, but it was more of a home than the Ridge.

Modesty and humility were not things that Craw was used to seeing on the shadow, a private and tireless wolf who kept to himself and did his duties without the need for praise or reminders. He had offered the compliment, in part, to see if it were the sort of feedback that Greer wanted, and the dark man's reaction did not imply that he found it uncomfortable. Craw watched him, hoping that his words had been taken seriously, that the answer he got - the shyest words he had ever heard from Greer - were equally sincere.

It was difficult to tell. Perhaps Greer was just saying what he wanted to hear. But it didn't matter; there was no need to rush to open the shadow up, to get at whatever secret thoughts he harboured in that sharp mind of his. Craw was used to wolves whose trust took longer to earn.

He was prepared to put the time in.

Inclining his head in acknowledgement and pleasure of Greer's answer, Craw turned back to the spectacle ahead, and allowed silence to fall over them again. Satisfied with their  brief but important discussion, Craw chose to ask only one more thing, wheezed softly as he continued to gaze at the trees. Greer had clearly found this place by himself, had chosen to admire it by himself, and this was not Whitestone; Craw would not impose his presence if it was not wanted. Greer had more than earned that much respect. "Would you prefer to be alone?"

The spider was trying to get to know him—understand him—and for that Greer was thankful. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to know, but it was nice to be treated (almost) like an equal as opposed to just a lowly subordinate. He had his own questions for the silver wolf but they remained in the back of his throat, for now. He would save that for their next clandestine meeting.

Once more the air grew silent around them and Greer revelled in it. Nothing was strained with the silver wolf—he did not push the shadow to speak more than what was necessary and he did not pry. Though he did not understand the Archer’s silent demeanour Craw was trying to, and that was all that mattered.

The compliment’s after-effects were beginning to wear off, his cheeks growing cold once more as his head began to clear. While his scarlet friend showered him in compliments almost every time they saw each other, this one was different. The spider had recognized Greer’s contributions and made him feel appreciated—that praise was something he had never received before. And it made leaving the willows behind worth it.

As his companion spoke once more the shadow shrugged softly, a small frown creasing his lips. “Not matter,” he admitted, truth caressing his words. Greer did not mind the older wolf’s presence. “Craw stay if Craw want.” Another pause as he glanced at Craw out of the corner of his eye. “Greer not mind.” And he didn’t. The presence of other’s usually made his skin crawl, but the silver wolf was different.