Riddle Heights A race you'll never win

@Greer

Why was she here again? She already knew that Sven would hate her for leaving. What was it he had said? Real Archers don't leave... "no matter how tough it gets..." Her voice was small and hoarse, barely a whisper as she looked longingly towards the willows, wondering just what might have happened if Sven's scent no longer danced along the borders. It had all been too much, too much! She lost her Nonna and then her brother had started vanishing, for days at a time. She was already upset and confused, it hadn't mattered that her parents were never there because he was, but then he was gone too.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to choke down her warring emotions. Why did he have to challenge? Renier was doing just fine, but as her brother tore through the ranks of a pack he'd been running away from for months, those he displaced moved on. The yearlings that had been staying left and she was alone again... She had to wonder if he'd even noticed her missing at all. Her stomach gave an uneasy flip as she turned to the south once more, silver eyes considering the heights that rose before her. Her brother had taken her through the tunnels once but she wondered just what was on the top?

With lips pulled taught and ears folded against her skull to try and block the words that swirled in her mind she began the climb. Exhaustion was her only escape. Maybe if she pushed really hard she'd even manage to sleep tonight.

 

@Attica

His thin legs were curled beneath him as he stared at the expanse of trees below, his dark brows pinched together as his lips fell into a thin line. The shadow did not know how to feel residing so close to the ridge. Even though it had been over a year since he had stepped beneath the canopy of willows Greer knew that it was no longer the same. His parents had grown old with the thin trees and were now one with the land—forever and ever. Elettra had built the pack from the ground and ruled with a force hat neither him or his sister in the north would ever possess. He often wondered what she would think of him now—her silent son who had always chased the shadows was now leading a pack.

The Archer-Lyall nearly scoffed at the thought but bit his tongue, his silver eyes narrowing instead.

His sister led a pack in the north and he was in the south. It appeared the Archer’s still had some power in the Lore. Ravenna remained in the willows along with their uncle—the same uncle that Morganna had plotted to overthrow before leaving for the lowlands with Greer at her side—and a new wave of Archers. He had a niece and a nephew. More than anything the shadow wanted to visit; to meet the next generation. But he still hesitated, unsure of if he would be welcome.

The sound of another approaching broke him away from his thoughts. Instantly his upper lip curled to reveal a row of pearly canines, his body unfolding from his perch. He remained where he was, his features relaxing as his tail arched high above his back. The faint smell of willow clung to the strangers pelt but it was not a scent he recognized. However, the scent was so faint he was not even sure they belonged to the pack—perhaps just a rogue passing through.

Once he caught a glimpse of the she-wolf his tail dropped. His brows immediately shot up in surprise and his mouth became dry. It couldn’t be… Ravenna had come to the north to tell both him and his sister that their mother had died. No, it could not possibly be his mother. The scent wasn’t the same… and her physique, it was not right. But why did this wolf resemble his late mother? Was there a sibling he was unaware of?

Instead of approaching Greer remained glued to the rock, his ears pinned forward as he watched the loner clamber over the rock.

Here I stand, staring at the sun

Attica Grace Archer

She hadn't stopped to look at her reflection for some time, the last time she had been close was in the cedarwood with @Ravenna when they ran into the rude one. Oh, she missed her aunt, even more than she missed her Nonna because at least Ravenna was still alive (the last she'd checked), but if she had, she might not have been so puzzled as to why the stranger above her was looking at her as if he'd seen a ghost. She stopped in her tracks, her head dipping to the side, sneaking fugitive glances at the stranger. "I-uh... Sorry." She automatically assumed she must have been trespassing, or maybe this area was frequented by the other wolf and he had come here to be alone.

Regardless, she must have been in the wrong and a nervous tongue passed over her nose as she waited for some sign that it was safe for her to turn and head back down the path without being pursued from behind. It was a terribly treacherous stretch of ground and she would more than likely break a leg if she set a foot down wrong in her panic. But then again, she was here, and maybe this wolf had seen some sign of her brother. She drew a breath, her knees buckling with the boldness of her question, "Actually, you haven't seen a white wolf come this way have you? Black smudge on his nose? His name's Sven... He's my brother and he's missing..." She couldn't keep the hint of hope out of her voice. Maybe he was just on the other side of the mountain visiting his friends again.

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

The shadow did not stir from his perch, his toes curled tight against the cool stone as he watched the peppered female hobble across the mountain terrain. Whoever she was, the wolf appeared determined, unfazed by her difficult surroundings. Life on the monadnock had prepared the Archer for the mountains, toughening the pads on his toes and strengthening his willowy limbs.

Sorry. His ears twitched at the voice, his silver gaze narrowing as he studied the white-cheeked female with heightened interest. The familiarity of her face left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, his tongue suddenly dry as he dismissed her apology with a loose roll of his shoulders. She was not trespassing—not yet. Greer had merely been observing, making sure that she did not steer too close to Aurora. Not unless it was acceptance she was seeking.

As his tongue remained still the female spoke once more, her voice sounding strained; uncertain. White wolf. Black smudge. It couldn’t be. It had been so long since he had seen a wolf matching that description…

His name’s Sven… He’s my brother and he’s missing.

Brother?

His head fell to the side, brows pinched tight together. “Sven sister?” He asked, confused by the girl’s statement. Who else had his brother knocked up? Truthfully, the Archer-Lyall was not surprised by the discovery that his older brother had sired another litter. He was sure there was plenty of mini Sköll’s running around. It took everything in him to keep his eyes from rolling. Instead the shadow kept his mercury gaze fixated on the peppered stranger, his ears cupped forward as he waited for a response. 

Here I stand, staring at the sun

Attica Grace Archer

Sven sister? She suddenly felt shy, and embarrassed for not introducing herself properly in the first place. "Ah, yes, sorry, Attica, Attica Grace Archer... He pretty much raised me and had just taken leadership of the Ridge when I left so I expected him to still be there when I got back, I wasn't gone that long..." Or had she been? But now she was rambling because this stranger knew her brother, or did he? Was he just echoing what she had already said for the sake of clarification? The worry and confusion was clear on her face, she never had been terribly good at hiding her emotions and right now they were threatening to spill over with a torrent of verbal vomit and a flood of bitterly confused tears.

In the space of a few short months her world had fallen apart (or had it been falling apart since before she was born?) She was still equally torn between continuing up the path and turning to roll back down the steep path to the rise below. She was intrigued by this stranger, but also terrified of what information he might be able to impart, and so she stood, feeling as though the ground beneath her paws was about to swallow her up. What did he know that she didn't?

Attica. Attica Archer. He blinked, confused by the name, for it was not one the shadow recognized. The surname yes, of course, for she shared his own. But the first—the first he did not know. A frown creased his dark features as he adjusted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to figure out who this Archer was and why he did not know her. She claimed that she was Sven’s sister, which meant that Sköll was behind her creation (which he should have assumed in the first place). But the mother—it was not Piety. His frown deepened. Who?

He dismissed his thoughts which a shark flick of his tail, his interest increasing as the silver-eyed Archer mentioned that her brother—little, ghostly Sven—had taken over leadership in the Ridge. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. A surge of pride filled his chest but he kept his lips drawn tight as Attica mentioned that the pale Archer was no longer in the Ridge. Instead of responding right away his frown returned, brows pinching together with concern. But he had not seen his brother’s offspring in quite some time—too long, in fact. He had not passed over the mountains. Not recently, anyway. So where had the ghostly Archer gone?

“Greer. Greer Archer,” he introduced quickly after a lengthy pause, his frown still prominent against his dark features. “Sven Greer-nephew. Brother Sköll.” His maw canted to the side, his mercury pools narrowed. “Greer not see Sven long time,” he added apologetically, his ears swivelling toward the younger Archer.

Here I stand, staring at the sun

Attica Grace Archer

She wasn't sure she was hearing the shadow wolf correctly and it showed in her stunned expression. So this wolf was her uncle then? He mentioned both her brother and her father, who she only knew in name, and she took a moment to wonder if perhaps he knew her mother too? Barely a white smudge in her most distant memories who could have just as easily been replaced with images of Sven. "What about... Hecate? Did you know her too?" It was a name that hadn't actually left her lips before and she flinched as the name left her mouth. She shouldn't have asked. She didn't really want to know.

She hadn't missed the swell of pride at Sven's accomplishments that had left such a bitter taste at the back of her mouth and so she watched closely again now to see if any indication of the type of person her mother was might flit across the dark wolf's stony face. She was torn equally between wanting to know more about the people her parents were and trying to embrace her childish it doesn't matter becasue they aren't here. She had needed them, in the end, and during her months away it had begun to gnaw at her. What could she have possibly done that was terrible enough to drive her own parents away?

His expression quickly changed at the mention of the white wench. Hecate. He remembered running into her, months ago, before the summer sun took hold of the sky. She had sought forgiveness, eager to make conversation with the shadow she had spent most of her time with before she decided to jump Archers. This—was this wolf Hecate’s daughter? He cringed at the thought. Poor, unfortunate Attica. There was no doubt that the pale bitch had abandoned her daughter just as she had done to him. Her attention span was short and demanding. She adored the idea of others pining after her but did not want to put any actual work into the relationships she formed. It was not surprising that her fling with his brother had resulted in offspring. A little disgusting, perhaps, but definitely not surprising.

Regardless of who her mother was the wolf before him was still an Archer. Still family. And the resemblance to his mother was uncanny. The Archer blood trumped whatever parasitic blood ran through Hecate’s veins. Good. “Greer wish not know,” he hissed in response, his nose wrinkled as he dared not let her name drip from his tongue. How well did Attica know her mother? He frowned. Had she been the reason why the white wolf had returned to the lands of Lore?

(This post was last modified: Sep 19, 2017, 12:29 AM by Greer.)

Here I stand, staring at the sun

Attica Grace Archer

Wish not know. She shied away from the words not because they were harsh, but because she had wasted breath uttering the name, and through that forced the dark stranger... Her uncle, to waste his own answering her. Attica's lips were drawn tight as she thought how best to respond, finally settling on a small smile, "Guess I'm lucky then huh? I don't..." she had to steady herself with a breath. "I don't remember her... or Skoll... Either of them." She was dropping her guard as the encounter unfolded, Attica's shoulders dropped and her silver dusted tail beginning to hint at a wave between her hocks.

She was curious about this strange Archer. If Archer's didn't leave, well... then he wouldn't be here would he? She had never seen him among the willow wolves, though she had heard her Nonna mention his name with fondness. "But-uh... Do you live here?" She questioned, wondering just how one might eek out a living on the side of such an imposing mountain. She even went so far as to take a few steps closer, to find some level ground so she could bring herself to a seat. Maybe there was more to life than the Willows, she just had to be brave enough to find it.