Kingsfall are your ears burning?

Afternoon, Fog, 53 ° F, 12 ° C

He trudged through the woodlands with a disgusted look on his face. This place was too damp and crowded with overly tall trees. The stench of a pack was nearby but he did well to avoid it. Saros was always ready to face conflict head-on when necessary but if he could avoid it he would. He was confident, not stupid.

The large yearling avoided touching the trees and their rough bark. He wanted no one to trail after him once he was gone. Saros had left home with every intent to disappear. The last thing he needed was siblings or relatives chasing after him to blabber about some ghosts. Those damn ghosts and mushrooms. This was all their fault. They had spoken of some vague demise and he had been stupid, only for a split moment mind you, to believe them. Yet it was not his spoken demise that had driven him away. It was the crushing realization that those ghosts were phony that drove him away. He was not going to linger around a bunch of mushroom-eating-ghost-seeing wolves for any longer.

He only halted his stomping path to soothe a scratch behind his ear. Hind leg lifted as he skillfully used it to scratch away at the persistent itch. Gods above he hoped he didn't have fleas.

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

Guardian dem 1/3 - I think this counts? Tell me if not!

Guarding the borders - and a bit beyond them - was becoming something of a daily task for the Delaney man. He didn't feel comfortable leaving the pack at all since Kisla's death. Especially not when Mace had disappeared, too. It seemed like what Inna had said was true - there were always wolves leaving the pack. Ayti had been witness to a few - Aleksei, Otter, Lorcan's month-long absence, Kisla's death, Lekalta's leave, and now Mace wandering off somewhere.

Large paws made their way through mud and leaf litter. If he were being honest, currently, he was probably the brawniest wolf in Hearthwood. Which wasn't to say that the others were weak - most of them were perfectly capable of defending themselves - but Ayti was just bigger than everyone else. Not to mention the five pups that the River housed. Most of the other wolves were busy tending to them, and so he had to take on more responsibility. That was all.

The fog was ominous, but not overwhelming. He crossed pack borders to check just outside them. He could not do much about loners around there, but at least he'd be able to warn his pack about anything suspicious that he happened to come across. Which, on this day, came in the form of a young loner - perhaps somewhere around a year and a half- scratching behind his ear with one hind foot.

Aytigin cleared his throat as he approached, settling his tail into an easy wag behind him, but didn't lower his posture. This yearling was big, too, so he didn't have any need to look less of his intimidating stature. "Hey, kid," he greeted, scanning the young one over. "You good there?"

"Hey, kid,"

The Tainn may have been young, but he was no kid.

He lowered his leg slowly and turned to look at the male who was greeting him in such a fashion. Another question followed and Saros couldn't - and wouldn't - stop his Viridian eyes from squinting. The man was older, stank of the pack he had purposely avoided, darker in colors, barely taller and most certainly fatter. His tail gave one irritated flick before he spoke to the fat pack wolf. "Ya, I'm simply peachy." The Tainn male gave a few more scratches at his ear. He wasn't peachy at all. He likely had fleas if he felt this itchy and that was the furthest thing from being peachy.

"What do you want?" Saros asked as he lowered his leg from his ear again. He had made sure to not cross borders or even piss around their place. He had crossed all his Ts and dotted all his Is. So what was this man out here for? It surely couldn't be to just ask him if he was good. That would have been a complete waste of time not only on the pack wolf's end but also on Saros's. He hoped the fat dark male had a good answer.

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

There are several fresh rabbit tracks in the mud. Hunt Opportunity

Guardian dem 2/3. Insert Ayti yelling about how not-fat he is.

Dark brows raised as the cream-colored boy retorted with a remark that was so full of sarcasm that Ayti felt as though he might drown in it. He rolled his eyes lightly at the young wolf, a smile stretching across his maw. "I can see that," he retorted lightheartedly, with just as much sarcasm and disbelief. "Looks to me like you're trying to scratch that ear off, pal. Maybe you got a pest problem." Which was the ideal way to enter their next part of the conversation.

'What do you want?'

This kid had quite the attitude. "Well, I'm sure you can tell that I live around here," he stated, gesturing to the tall redwoods and cedars around them. "One of my jobs is to make sure we don't have any of our own pests around the borders. Purely for necessity, you know." He snorted slightly, angling one ear toward the boy. "I think the better question is - what are you doing around here?" It wasn't asked with malice, just pure curiosity. Besides, he needed to know what loners were doing so hear to Hearthwood.

"I don't have a damn pest problem." Maybe he did but hell if he was gonna let some high and mighty pack wolf tell him that. "Just got a little itch." Saros snorted and kept his eyes on the heavy fella. This guy was likely worse than any fleas or ticks. The Tainn had just wanted to scratch his ear in silence for a rather brief moment before moving on away from this too damp and foggy place. All the dampness made him think too much of the mushrooms. Which just put an even more bitter taste in his mouth about this whole situation. Bah! He wanted out of this place now.

Saros didn't hide his scoff at the dark male's words. "You think I'm the pest here, huh?" He hadn't even gone within a mile of this pack's border and yet they were gonna find him a pest. Unbelievable! "I'm not doing anything worthy of being called a pest." There came the yearling's anger issues, slowly creeping upwards from his belly out of his mouth. That was his specialty of course. Lighting a fire that he had thrown the gasoline down for. Even if this male wasn't using the harsh tones that Saros was everything was still being taken as if they were. He wasn't gonna let some overweight guy who was old enough to be his dad (same age as his dad, actually) snoop into his business.

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

Guardian dem 3/3

It was kind of adorable, how this kid was trying so hard to make it seem like he was so big and bad. The smile on Ayti's maw grew slightly and he waited for the yearling to finish his little outburst before speaking again. "Well, if you're right on all that, I guess we don't have anything to worry about here." One brow quirked, amused. "But I didn't call you a pest, kiddo. You came up with that conclusion on your own." His tone was still light and teasing. If this kid had a lightning-fast temper, why not stoke it a little?

"It's too bad you're not dealing with a pest problem, though," he remarked, flicking an ear back absently. "Pests I know how to deal with. Ticks, fleas. Shit like that. I was gonna offer to help ya. But if you're just itchy, that's your problem." The gypsies, being such a tightly-knit community, were prone to getting assaulted by those little external parasites. And while they hadn't had any medicine men or healers - like Lachesis and Lorcan - they did come up with little remedies for their menial issues. Like the fact that red cedar was good for parasites.

Though the yearling was relatively near their borders, and had that quick temper, Ayti didn't think he posed too much of a threat to the River wolves, and he certainly wouldn't be able to harm the Delaney man. So there wasn't really any issue with riling him up just a little - perhaps getting to know the kid. He wasn't sure if this guy was the type of wolf they'd want in Hearthwood, but they couldn't really afford to be picky nowadays.

-swats saros with newspaper-

He hated this fat man and everything he encompassed. Who was he trying to fool? He had very much hinted that Saros was the pest here. This pack wolf said he was looking for pests and had come to him. That very much made the Tainn a pest in this pack wolf's eyes. Fine if he didn't want to admit it. Coward. Saros wasn't stupid at all. He would not be taken for a damn fool.

Now, the Tainn didn't have a long fuse to begin with. It was short and anything could set it on fire. He was actually more like a landmine waiting for someone's wrong move. Lashing out when things didn't go how he wanted them. He was bold, reckless, and fearless without a concern for others feelings. Perhaps he was as much of a danger to himself as he was others but in his own mind, he didn't see it as such.

Of course, he wasn't a complete fool. This man was part of a nearby pack and if he was to lash out there would be consequences towards himself. Self-preservation was more important in his state as a loner. So he would offer a less than kind warning to see if the male would take a hint. "Why don't you piss off, old man? You've done your job." He spat with venom in a tone that one rebellious child might give a parent. If he was gonna be called kid, kiddo, and every other dumb name under the sun then he'd serve back some of his own. He had a next retaliation to go if this wouldn't be enough.

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

Ayti's mouth popped open comically when the yearling called him an old man, and he scoffed. "Please. At least I'm not the one with fleas," he shot back, although there was no bite in his tone. He wasn't actually angry at the kid, because what was there to be angry about? It was actually kind of funny, how the young wolf was so pissed at him for a couple of passing comments. He couldn't help but feel bad for him, too. He understood how unpleasant it was to travel on your own at such a young age.

Perhaps he could still help, regardless of how angry the boy was at him. "Look, the redcedars around us. If - and I'm stressin' the if - you have fleas, you could use the bark from them to get rid of the pests. Somethin' about the oils inside them or whatever." He grinned slightly. "When I wasn't so much of an old man, the group of wolves I lived with were really close, so if one of us had fleas, we all did. That was one of the remedies." It was also one of the only medicinal thingamabobs he knew of, so he was glad to be of use. The mocha-colored man was no healer, after all. That was Lorcan and Lachesis' job. But it felt nice to be able to do something that didn't involve fish wrangling or physical force.