Larkcall Lowlands Two Wildly Different Perspectives

thinking this is about a few miles out from WRF~ @Cottongrass || Morning, Fog, 53 ° F, 12 ° C

He was glad to be out of that hellacious forest with their fat, high and mighty wolves. There was more comfort here in the open expanse. Nothing could hide from him but he couldn't hide from anything either. He had passed a few bodies of water that supplied him with a needed drink. It wasn't as though the heat was ridiculous, though. In fact it was the opposite. There was a slight chill in the air as a fog crept between his legs. It didn't feel like summer at all but that was okay.

The Tainn male prowled through the area without a concern. He had no destination in mind. He had no place to currently call home. There was nothing to his name. No title, role, or even power (that he was aware of). For now, he was a nobody. Saros had faith that eventually he would be a great somebody. His ambitions and goals were as high as the mountains south from his current position.

A sound in the distance caused his head to raise. It sounded like grass rustling. He had to wonder if the prey here was dumb enough to lurk so close to a predator. Then again with all the fog flowing against the earth, he wasn't sure if the prey even knew that he was lurking only yards away. The sound certainly hadn't been big enough to be a fellow predator either. Without concern, Saros jumped forward with jaws spread. As he crashed down onto the tundra ground he hoped to feel something between his ivory teeth.

When his head lifted disappointment etched across his face. All he had was a mouthful of Wild Rye. How disgusting.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

Somewhere within the passing weeks he had convinced himself that he was going to stay inside of Wild Rye Fields' pack borders. That he really didn't want to risk another run in with Aytigin or any other Hearthwood River wolves if he could help it. But that was proving harder said than done. Especially when nothing ever really happened in pack territory and he more or less exhausted the place with exploratory attempts.

He could only pester his friends so much before that lost its spark. And as such —

He was a wolf on the prowl. One that might have been regretting his choices because wow, it was all kinds of unpleasant in the world today. The morning was cold. There was a chill in the air that hinted towards the end of summer. But the more obvious weather phenomenon was the fog. It covered the open lands with a soft blanket that smoldered everything from view. He was amazed that he could see past his own nose.

But maybe he was just exaggerating. Trying to find an excuse to turn around and shuffle back home because he could always venture out another day.

Except the moment that thought popped into his head he heard a rustling. One that was followed by the distinct thud of something moving or maybe falling. His head cocked and his paws stumbled to a halt. It would be easy to pretend he didn't just hear that. And for a few seconds he considered it. But that idea disappeared as quickly as it had came.

Who would pass up an opportunity for adventure? Especially when it was so close to home!

His tail started wagging behind him and he picked up his pace. The plan was for him to make a beeline towards the source of the ruckus and poke around a little. Make sure it wasn't a River wolf or some other creature he didn't want to meet that morning. But like all plans he ever had — it went off rails the moment he launched it. Because he misjudged the closeness of the noise or something because one second he was staring into wild rye and the next he was face-to-face with a wolf.

One that didn't look happy. He put on the brakes and narrowly missed colliding into the stranger. Behind him his tail started wagging as panicked as could be. "What are you doing?" He blurted out, as intelligent as could be whenever he was faced with the unexpected.

Before he could even snarl with his disgust or drop the Rye from his clenched jaw, a ghastly figure appeared from the fog with bright yellow eyes. There was so much energy in the way the stranger's tail whipped behind him and the way he just blurted out words that caught the male off-guard. Was he talking to him? Was this wolf real? He had truly appeared out of thin air without a single bark of warning. Saros had to wonder if it was common for the wolves of this place to just bust right into your personal space and play detective. He was unsure if that was better or worse than his shroom eating family back home.

"Mmmff," He muffled at first forgetting about the bundle of Rye in his mouth. In a quick flustered fashion, he spat out the plants onto the ground between his paws. "Was tryna get somethin' to eat." He finally said once the plants were out. They left a bitter taste in his mouth that had him raising his paw to lick at in order to wipe away any leftover Rye. Gross gross gross. He was made to eat meat, not some gross bird and bug food.

Viridian eyes looked from his slimy paw to his unexpected company. His face had gone from disgusted to more or less neutral. "Do you know this place?" Maybe this pale fellow could be a bit of help with all that rambunctious energy. He smelt of others which was a partially good sign. Saros wondered if he was some kind of magnet to pack wolves. Did they just assume that because he was alone he was up to no good? Some kind of pest.

He quickly glanced past the pale wolf in order to make sure no one else was going to come barging out from the thick fog. Seemed as though he might be safe for now.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

He wasn't afraid to admit that he'd done some pretty silly things before. It was more or less the basis for everything he did at this point. When he was bored he'd climb trees or roll around on the ground until someone entertained him. He had a friend named Party Owl. So being strange wasn't unusual for him. But he was pretty sure he had never eaten grass before. Especially as a meal replacement.

The most he'd ever done was take a nibble out of boredom. Maybe even two nibbles or several if he were to be completely honest. This wolf was no doubt a weirdo. One that lurked around in tall fields when it was foggy and ate grass. But he was surprisingly okay with that realization. His friends probably had more than enough stories to make this man seem normal in comparison, after all. Behind him his tail stopped its panicked wagging and slowed down into something more friendly.

"Oh." He finally spoke. And there were gears turning in his head. The kind that formed thoughts and ideas that he might just live to regret but never in the moment. Because the stranger seemed harmless. Completely harmless even if a little bit odd at first. They didn't even smell like pack! But before he could fully convince himself of what he was about to do —

They were talking. Asking him a question with a neutral face and inquisitive eyes. He decided they could return to his plan later on.

"Uh." He started. His ears swiveled atop his head and he spared a quick glance to the neighboring fields of wild rye. "Sort of?" And at that he gave the man a hopeless sort of glance. One that was sheepish around the edges because he wasn't entirely sure how to word his next sentence. It was probably best to just spit it out.

"I mean, you're near Wild Rye Fields." Behind him his tail started wagging and his expression brightened with an excited smile. "That's pack territory. I live there!" He chirped. Like it wasn't obvious with the distant scent of border markings and the fact that he smelled like his pack mates.

His company was kind of weird. The ghostly male seemed to be a bit frazzled around the edges with the way his tail moved about behind him. Not in the way "hot dang this guy must be completely mad" way but more in the "perhaps i should tread a bit lightly" way.

All that was said was one simple little word. Oh. It made Saros's cheeks flush. He knew he had likely looked a bit silly with a mouth full of grass but surely weirder things had happened. Hell, he used to eat shrooms. Not that this stranger would know anything about that. He didn't look familiar enough to be apart of the shroom eating cult back home. Even if he had been there was about a seventy-five percent chance that Saros wouldn't notice him. He was always far too wrapped up in his own conversations with ghosts. That was until they started going mad talking about his demise and he debunked the whole thing as phony.

Sort of. He supposed that was better than no way. The Tainn was ready to awkwardly do goodbyes and part ways but the pale fella had something more useful to spit out than Rye. Funny enough it seemed even if it was useful it circled around Rye. Some kind of pack territory that fittingly went by the name Wild Rye Fields. His eyes took the time to look around the growing plants that swayed in the foggy morning all around them. Why anyone would live here, he had no idea but who was he to judge? He didn't even have a proper home at the moment.

The excited smile though was a nice change from the panicked movement of the pale fluffy tail. The guy must have really liked his little home in the fields. For a moment his brain rotated a tray of decisions. Did he keep asking questions or did he try to be polite? The latter wasn't something he was never very good at but as long as no one stepped on his toes he could usually get by as a generally decent male.

"I'm Saros." He settled on with a partial smile, not as beaming as the Rye wolf's but it was enough to give the indication he wasn't going to be the normal jerk he really was. Or at least he wouldn't be for now.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

"I'm Cottongrass." He chirped in response to Saros. And maybe if he had a fancy title now would be the time to use it. But he wasn't Askan and as such he fell into silence.

It was in that moment he was struck with a realization. One that was startling and just possibly life changing. Because he didn't know how the heck to control or direct a conversation to save his life. He was good at answering questions. Letting others poke and prod as much as they want all while he rambled out every single piece of information he could think of. But when the tables were turned? He found that he didn't know what he was doing.

There were a few awkward seconds where he could only stare. Because maybe now would be as good of a time as any to pitch his plan to the man. He wondered how mad Askan and Reyes would be if they found out he let a random stranger into pack territory. Would they tattle on him to Drestig and Jessie? That could be pretty bad. Like one small mistake that was just waiting to escalate into a huge explosion with him at the center.

And maybe this was why Askan had gotten so upset when he had immediately deemed Aytigin his friend. Just look at the way that had panned out. But Saros really did seem like an okay guy. One that hopefully wouldn't return and bite him in the ass for being naive.

"D'you want something to eat?" He finally asked, more than a touch awkward in the delivery. With a glance over his shoulder he tried to make sure the perimeter was safe. That nobody was hiding in the tall grass waiting to ruin his plan. With a look back to Saros he decided to finally just say it. "I know where the caches are." He was just going to let him pick something from the caches before kicking him out. There was no way anything would go that wrong, right?

"And I'm sure nobody would mind if we make it quick..." Really quick so I have enough time to hide if this all goes south. It wasn't like anyone in the pack didn't know what it felt like to be hungry without any options. Cottongrass had been there. He was pretty sure at least one other wolf in the pack had been in that position, too.

They'd totally understand if they got caught.

Huh. Saros had never heard such a name but somehow it all seemed fitting. A wolf named Cottongrass, living in a field of Wild Rye, with the Wild Rye Field Pack. This whole thing was feeling more like a childhood fairy tale than an actual moment in time. Such whimsical names with mystical settings. The very thought of such fluffy pure things caused the back of his throat to get that sick taste of bile building up. Best to push that down until he could get another meal.

It almost seemed like that would be a wrap on their meeting. Beady yellow eyes staring at him in the passing silence. Was he waiting to be excused? Was Saros waiting to be excused? His tail gave a gentle wave but right before he could go ahead and turn himself to go around the pale male, another sentence tumbled forward. This time it was a rather unexpected question with a more than obvious answer.

"Yeah." He softly spoke with a raised brow. Of course, he wanted to eat. Hadn't this guy pretty much just walked in on him with a mouth full of Rye? Yet Saros had to wonder what he would have to do in order to acquire a meal. There would probably be some kind of trade off or weird promise made. Neither was ideal but Saros wasn't one to always hold his word. If he could get the meal first then he could easily cut off his end of the deal

Caches. Like the pack caches? This Cottongrass guy wanted him to just waltz in like he was one of them and snag a meal before running back out? Sure, if he was absolutely starving and out of his mind the offer would sound ideal. Completely foolproof really. But something sat wrong with this whole idea. The pack wolf had come out of nowhere to greet the loner - himself in this case. Saw he was hungry and offered him a meal. This guy didn't look like no alpha, though. If he was then maybe this Wild Rye Fields was all a little bit off kilter. Nor did Saros know of any packs that offered passing loners meals free of charge.

His hackles raised as his mind had jumped to a conclusion that was unknowingly far worse and more than what Cottongrass was doing. "You're setting me up, aren't you?"

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

Everything was already going south. They didn't even place a single paw in pack territory and his idea was crumbling around him faster than he could have ever prepared for. Because one second all was still. Cottongrass really did want to give the guy a meal before sending him on his way because he liked being nice. Who didn't?! But somewhere along the way something changed and Saros' bristled and now a mouthful of accusatory words hung in the air between them.

"What?" He blurted out the moment the words registered. And he didn't know what to do. He was never good in these kinds of situations and he scrambled backwards until he was partway submerged in the wild rye. His ears rolled back against his head and his tail whipped, full of submission the moment the other man had spoke. "No! No! I was, I was just —" Trying to be nice, dammit! "I just thought, I thought you were hungry and —" The edge of panic in his voice only heightened as his frazzled mind tried to make sense of what was happening. Of what was no doubt about to happen.

It was in these moments he wished he were anyone else. Maybe someone that was a little bit smarter and not as prone to shoving his entire paw into his mouth when stressed. He crouched down and cowered in a last ditch effort of self-preservation.

"I'm sorry." He whined as his pitiful stuttering stopped. There was panicked sincerity in his voice and he wondered how he kept getting himself into these situations. Was he not allowed to be nice? He was starting to feel like that was the case.

He had let his guard down due to his stupid hunger. He should have known better! No one just willingly offered up a meal and if so there was something shady going on. Because obviously, the idea of being nice slipped right past a man such as Saros. In his world, there was no such thing as doing a nice thing for the sake of being nice. If you were nice you wanted something. Simple as that.

The sorry and half explanation didn't matter to the large Tainn. His head simply shook. If anything he was madder at himself than he was the strange pale Cottongrass. "Don't want your apology." He hissed softly, bright green eyes focused carefully on the submissive fella. Wasn't Cottongrass fault for likely doing what he'd been told to do (which Saros still believed was for this fella to set him up for something bad, likely an attack).

"I'll make sure to avoid this area next time around." His tail lashed behind him with frustration, a soft snort leaving his crinkled face before it smoothed out more. He should likely get leaving anyway if this place was real close to pack territory. The large yearling didn't want any more run-ins with these Rye wolves.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

He was cursed with bad luck.

There was no other possible explanation for the horrible way this conversation was going. He was just trying to be nice! If Saros was hungry Cottongrass would have gladly let him pick something from the caches to eat before kicking him back out. That was it! Nothing more and nothing less. But the man before him seemed to think this was a set up. For what? A budding friendship and a full stomach? Because that's all he was offering and probably ever would.

His panicked fear gave way to panicked frustration. Because if Saros didn't want to already murder him, he was going to add fuel to that pile until it blew up in his face. He let out a whine and took a step backwards into the towering rye. Behind him his tail gave an upset wiggle and he even stamped his front paws like the puppy he was.

"Can I at least try and make it up to you?" He called even when his suspicions told him that he already knew the answer to that question. But it didn't stop him from at least trying. Even when it was probably a bad and futile idea. The guilt would eat him from the inside out if he didn't.