Umbra Copse the suburbs

RE: The Lore experiences a bout of unseasonably warm weather.

Somewhere around daybreak, by Rowan's estimate, he crossed over into the Lore once again.

Winter seemed to have disappeared for a day or two now. The temperatures rose above freezing and as the snow covering the thick-bodied forest began to melt it hung in the air, thick as a cloud descended from the tree-tops. Even with the low visibility, he remembered coming through this exact forest on his way to visit his home for the first time since that night. A growl reverberated in his chest, hackles rising. It didn't matter all the things that had happened since the flood - surviving, reuniting with his sisters, meeting his nephew, making a life and then leaving it and making one again - the reaction was natural any time he recalled the memory of the black water, tearing him away from his family, threatening to drown him off as it carried him into a place unknown.

Rowan forced himself to forget it, and continued to move through the forest at a glacial pace. Tarnished gold eyes peered around each tree trunk he passed, carefully lifting his dark legs over the winding roots emerging from the softening ground. There was no use running through the Copse - he was on a mission, without a trail. Somewhere a few weeks ago he had lost the scent - idiot - after it had been so hard to find in the first place. He wasn't exactly sure when it happened... it was almost as if he had gone to sleep knowing which way to go and woke up without a trace. But he was close enough to the land he knew, and so he continued this way - hoping that she'd come here too. With a wry smile he wondered just how many times he would show up back in this Lore looking for somebody wearing the Attaya name. It really was tiring. But tiring wasn't reason enough to stop him from running treds in the same paths he always did where his daughter was concerned. 

His salmon-pink tongue snaked across his dark nose as a thought bothered him - that he would be wasting his time here, if she hadn't crossed into the Lore after all. But that black blood of theirs always seemed to bring them back here - reuniting him with his sisters beneath the canopy of the willows (and then later on the cedars) and so he had to hope. Hope was all he had - for now. 

He continued on. 

North. South. It was all the same, and all of it better than home: a place taut and tense with the season, and thoughts too heavy and toxic for him to want to touch. They coiled like snakes in his mind, a nest of vipers, like a disease of treacherous thoughts and half-forgotten dreams, half-awakened hopes. Forked tongues and threatening hisses. Unease. A tightness in his gut, one that only distance could put an end to.

So he walked. It continued as it had begun—movement. Paws whispering over snow. Tongue lolling out between graying (though, who could tell?) jaws. His aching body laid out in the sunlight, soaking up the warmth and easing muscles fed too much motion and not enough food.

He roamed, and he wasn't sure if it was distance, or time, that soothed him. Each day brought that night further and further into the past, an act he wasn't sure what to make of; she had wanted him to do it, no doubt, but she was still Kisla. She was still the little girl, Corinna's little girl, the one that he had protected as she grew up. The memory of the tawny, green-eyed youth was what sprang to mind each time his mind hummed her name. Never was it the worn, drawn widow of the north, the beast whose fangs scoured his skin when words failed them.

He shook his head as he walked through the tall forest, a shadow within shadows as morning light began to filter over the horizon. She was a woman grown—but it was the not knowing part that ate at him. He didn't know what he had done. He didn't know what he had started. He didn't know what she wanted from him. And neither did she, or if she did, she did not want to admit it to him. He had let her go, as she wanted, unquestioned, alone, silent. And thus, she had left him in the pale starlight, with not a single clue as to what was expected of him now.

At some point, he had decided he'd visit again—before the pups of the Bend were born, for those would definitely need him. The pack was thin in numbers and capacity still. And even though he had come to a conclusion, made a decision, the unease lingered, wrapped around his spine. It wasn't soon enough. The certainty of some kind of answer—or rejection—wasn't enough to quieten the 'why' howling through his mind.

He would've walked his paws to the bone if not for a distraction. A shadow moved, just like he, heading somewhere vaguely west. Ice's ears pricked forward, and his tail rose slightly behind him. Who was it? No idea. Was he better company than his own thoughts? Yes, most likely. Hells, Ice would even take Askan right now.

With a woof Ice announced himself, a mostly white wolf in a mostly white world, and headed for the stranger.

let the stars above shine in your soul

The dense fog parted only for Rowan's movement, quick to fill in the gaps his body left as he continued to creep through the creepiest spit of the Lore. The soft haze effectively hid the many secrets the deep forest certainly hid, and his travel weary senses didn't do him any favors either. When the scent of another wolf rolled in, he assumed it was something residual - perhaps he was moving along a trail nearby to another. But the scent persisted, and just about when he'd convinced himself to turn his head for it, a woof beckoned his attention.

His slow paws stopped, head swiveling toward the direction of the sound. The wolf that followed it seemed to be born of the mist himself, like clouds transfiguring themselves into a white-furred muzzle, and then a face, two ears, a neck and a body. Rowan drew himself to height, tall on his ink-washed legs, and turned a curious expression over the apparition. The pale wolf was carrying a hefty pack scent, clearly not a nomad or even a recent deserter, but his voice hadn't carried any dominance in it. Neither did he posture toward the Attaya male, so Rowan allowed his tarnished gold gaze to meet the other's silver.

Unbeknownst to the dust-colored rogue, the stranger and he shared similar intentions. Too many thoughts were occupying his head, with no place to go and no way to sort themselves out. The opportunity presented itself to worry later and he was surprisingly eager for it, tilting his dark ears forward and parting his jaws to utter a greeting. It was only after a breath that he realized it had been so long since he'd actually spoken to anyone. Loner life was a peculiar thing.

"Far from home?" He ventured politely, the usual gravel of his boyish baritone particularly rough from the lack of use. He cleared his throat, hoping the other wolf wouldn't find it weird.

adopt thea?

In a world as vast and unpredictable as the Lore, a friendly face was always welcome—it balanced upon the knife's edge, teetered neither this way nor that way, suspended as it waited. As he, too, waited, even though his body moved, flowing from the dense fog and towards the shadow outlined in it. He—the other—could've been a ghost, a shadow cast by the sun on something unseen, but when the haze cleared between them he was solid. Real. Water droplets shimmered on the edges of his fur.

The thing which balanced between violence and kindness plummeted to one side of the blade. It was..decided, for a lack of a better word. Eyes like the sun met eyes like the moon, and teeth remained behind their lips. Ice was old and proud, but his body made no demands, tried to establish no dominance; his tail was wagging behind him, ears forward, but eyes gentle.

"Far from home?" the other said, before clearing his throat. "Only a day or so," he responded, eyes drinking in the appearance of the other. Tall, dark, but in a dusty kind of way. He looked..gentle. Ice liked his face. Ice, rather randomly, liked everything about him, from his mottled coat to his gold eyes to his voice to.. well, he didn't know. He didn't know the whys or the hows, just like everything else in his life. "I'm Ice, of Oak Tree Bend." His dark nose quivered, and he turned his muzzle in the direction the other had seemed to be traveling in. "Where are you headed?" he asked, knowing he had nothing to do with it, but curious all the same.

let the stars above shine in your soul

It was a relief to receive straight answers, for once, from Ice of Oak Tree Bend. So often it seemed that everyone had something to hide and nobody really wanted to divulge who they were and what they wanted. He'd half expected some sort of speech about being the Grandmaester Guardian of a powerful pack built around the best family that ever existed. The simplicity was genuine, and his tail waved a friendly beat with gratitude for the white wolf's character.

"Rowan Attaya, of no where in particular." He countered with similar honesty and a crooked grin. For all the allegiances he'd worn over the years - rapids, cedars, willows, and black stones - his pelt was clean. Being Rowan Attaya was the only thing he managed to hold on to. He'd thought that by now he would be living whatever definition constituted a stable life. His last pack was all but promised to be that kind of forever... but instead the rogue found himself on the surviving end of the battle that turned out to be love. And now for the first time, he wasn't concerned with pack life - he was chasing a different kind of home. 

His metallic gaze followed the invisible line from the other's dark nose, pointed the direction Rowan faced. Where he was headed was not any destination he could name, though he didn't hide the nature of his pursuit. "I'm lookin' for my daughter. I lost her trail a few days back... Hoping that it'll pick up again somewhere in the Lore." A sheepish shrug accompanied his ostensibly casual delivery, though the failure stung in his chest more than he was willing to show. He imagined that the thick fog that surrounded the two males would rise and give way to some obvious clue, to send him on the right direction again. Unless... perhaps, it already had. 

His eyes flickered back toward Ice's gaze. His pack was only a few days journey from this spot, and if Iyes had come through this way... well, what were the chances she'd encountered this same wolf? "She's only a yearling, black-pelted with some silver on her back. Amber eyes." It was not that he intended to release his burden on to the friendly stranger, but it couldn't hurt to ask if perhaps that description rang a bell.

adopt thea?

And it was a distraction. He had bitten off more than he could chew. He had, unintentionally, gone and gotten himself clobbered nearly senseless—by a stranger. By a stranger's voice. His ears lost their stability and splayed on his head, his tail froze and surely would've curled into a question mark if it had been physically able to, and his eyes went wide. Something in his shoulders tugged upward, in an eternal, unreleased shrug, and he didn't know neither in nor out. Finally, he expelled his held breath in an explosive woosh.

"Attaya?" he—well, he sort of croaked, too shocked to figure out how his lungs worked now that he had exhaled all he'd had in them. Attaya. Darkwater Rapids. Kade. And most importantly: Ava, the female who had been his friend through all the darkness. She should've been an enemy, but he had duped Marsh to help her, and oh, how that still hurt, that he had abused his weakness like that... Ice swallowed. Ava had left Poison Path, settled down with Kade, not too far from Oak Tree Bend. They had made promises to be best friends, to do weekend visits, brings the cubs over.. nothing had come of it. Triell had come back and told Ice that Marsh was dead, and Ice had ran off and, eventually, fallen off a mountain.

And now, there had been no trace of the Rapids, nor Ava nor Kade. They were just gone, like the names of their children, wiped clean from a broken mind, stolen by a mountain—four of them, he remembered that they were, but the names..? Rowan didn't ring a bell, but how many Attayas could there be?

It was a miracle he had heard Rowan's words at all, but by the time the younger male was done, Ice had gone back to looking somewhat functional again. He still felt.. shocked, as if somebody had grabbed his world and given it a good shake, but his body didn't look as if it had suddenly forgotten how to stand anymore. Muscles and bones were re-connected, and he stood once more with the dignity age had sort of accidentally graced him with.

"I haven't seen her," he admitted quietly, feel guilty about it for some reason. If he could've helped him, he would've, but the only girl-child he'd met that could fit the bill was Bennet, but she had had silver eyes and been of Baranski stock, anyway. "I'm sorry to hear that she's missing. One of my boys is elsewhere, as well—haven't seen him since he was a cub." Which, mostly, was his fault. Ice blinked a couple of times. Time to hazard a guess. "You Ava and Kade's son?"

let the stars above shine in your soul

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

Rowan didn't miss the white wolf's reaction to his name, but he had no context to make sense of it so he chose to let it slide. After all, how could he have been aware that this iceberg of a wolf had once been his mother's closest friend? Ice recovered quickly enough that within moments Rowan had already forgotten the widening of his eyes and the crick in his tail, his mind refocused on his elusive daughter. "That's alright," he mused and gave an appreciative nod toward Ice's admission that he hadn't seen Iyes. Though it would have been incredibly nice if he had, the Attaya knew he'd only been entertaining something outside of reality in believing Ice would be the beacon from which he'd find her.

To Ice's own "kid troubles" he delivered a sympathetic smile-and-nod combination, one which was almost light-hearted in kind of a Dad joke way. Like, ah, kids man? What can ya do? As though they had been neighbors all their lives and talking about their children running off on them was a casual conversation shared over a beer. Suddenly the conversation changed course toward Rowan himself - rather, his parents - a topic which caused the ink-legged wolf to pause and meet the male's silver gaze slightly differently.

Ice had been able to place him, a question toward which he raised his eyebrows and considered the same of the other wolf. If he knew who Rowan was then who was he? Assumptions spun in his head. Rowan had previously lived with both Elettra and Jaysyek and they had known his father very well. By default Rowan decided this must be another wolf who had been a friend of Kade's at some time, as he seemed to have been a prominent figure on the east side of the mountain. And though it didn't surprise him anymore, it still warmed his heart each time someone knew remembered his family. Perhaps the Attayas weren't all lost after all.

Cracking a lopsided grin he nodded and confirmed, "Yes - Ava and Kade's second born. Did you know my father?"

adopt thea?

It ached, his heart, old and worn and cracked; he thought of all his time in the Grove, and his brief, brief time in Spectral Woods before heartache and misery spirited him away. Ava, a wicked witch, a dark lady, something forbidden, and the storm in which they had met and spoken of difficult things—he, her knight, her paladin... and somewhere in the fog of that, Marsh. He wondered if he would ever stop thinking of it, if his mind and heart would ever stop loping back through years and distance, to a time and a place that could never again come to be. He swallowed, and his tail waved a little in apology for his wandering mind and sudden melancholy mood—it wasn't the stranger's fault that he suddenly looked like he had seen a ghost.

And felt like a ghost, too, a bank of fog blown in by an errant wind. His return smile was small, wan, but there was some kind of warmth—and, surprisingly, mischief—lingered along its edges. Kids, man, and fathers wandering off. While Ice's father had been present, he had been a menace, but this wasn't the first time a parent went missing.

His gaze was level, a silver focus upon a black face, daughters and sons sort of forgotten for the moment. He had always been a direct wolf, so his ..amusement at seeing the cogs turn behind that composed face surprised him; surely, he wouldn't start enjoy leading others astray and fooling around in his old age..? He chuffed a little to himself, then, slowly shook his head. He hadn't really known Kade—had only met him a couple of times, and gone to war alongside him. Maybe it made them some kind of brothers-in-arms, maybe it didn't. Ice had appreciated the sacrifice and courage of all of those who had fought with him.

"No," he sad quietly, something thoughtful in his voice. "I only met him once or twice. I was a good friend of Ava's." He missed the black wolf—he missed the infectious happiness, the lightness of her words and voice.. their playful banter... He blinked. "What happened to her..?"

let the stars above shine in your soul

No. Surprise twitched in his brows as the answer came, an option which Rowan really hadn't considered. When Ice clarified that he had been a friend - good friend - of Ava's, his surprise was replaced by a delighted smile which warmed a friendly fire in the rust of his gaze. Of all the wolves he'd encountered in the lore with any memory of the Attaya name, this wolf was the first to recall his night-cloaked mother. Eagerness sat upon his tongue as he wanted to ask Ice about her - to hear stories of the she-wolf like he'd heard stories about Kade - but his excitement was vanquished instantly when the question followed. What happened to her?

He looked away.

His heart felt lassoed with injustice that the demise of their pack and family had been such an isolated event. No one even knew that it had happened, except for Maksim, and even he was a mystery now. But what felt even worse was the task given to him by the pale wolf's question - he now had to inform this wolf, this good friend of Ava's, that the she-wolf was most likely dead.

Swallowing dread he forced himself to look back at Ice, his face guarded by an expression of steel. Quietly and slowly, the Attaya attempted delicacy in his delivery. "We used to live above the Falls north of here, by the rapids - that's where I was born. Very early on in my life there was a- a flood." Black water rose to the surface of his mind and he batted the current away, the skin of his muzzle twitching as he denied the memory. "It destroyed our den and separated our pack. I was washed away with the flood - and so was my mother. Ava. And Kade, and my brother."

Rowan paused. "I never saw them again." he said, his voice soft but wounded. It had been more than three years since that night but it never got any easier to say. As for what actually happened to them, he had as good of an idea as Ice did. And it sucked very much to say that out loud, so he didn't, opting instead to search the Aesir male's face for a response.

adopt thea?