Secret Falls kissing the beehive

@Namir only. set after the failed stealing.

They had split in their effort to get away from the pack heathens but he knew Little Crow would come back. Or that he would at least go back to her. He followed that was his job, right? He sighed in a tired and defeated way. Buzzard's legs were sore from that running but the sound of rushing water and the smell of shit on him was enough to keep him going onward. Maybe he'd find Crow at the water too. That was is luck was on his side and so far it was on everyone else's side.

He found a more calm spot of the falls to slowly creep into. The cold water felt good and it was helping wash off the gross stuff. He dunked his face down into the water in order to clean off his white star. Why did he have to have this dumb thing? It was the worst kind of birthmark ever. He hadn't met anyone outside of his family with a mark like this. It was a dead giveaway to who he was. That pesky white spot was something that one didn't normally forget. Maybe it was some kind of mark of a curse.

Nah. That was silly talk just like those ghosts.

When he pulled his face back up he sat down in the water, tiredly and blankly staring out into the water and forest. "Come on, Little Crow..."

She stunk, and her legs her, and her brain hurt, and she was tired. But it would be stupid to stop and lay down for a rest here, and it would be stupid to stop before she found Buzzard, either. Thankfully, the other loner had the same idea, and hadn’t managed to make it too far once he’d warded off his nemesis. Little Crow wished she had something more than a tired sigh to show for their efforts as she made her appearance, but alas – if wishes were dinners, or something equally as dumb.

“Hey,” she sighed again, because it was easy for the sandy she-wolf to do. It seemed he’d wasted no time starting to clean himself up after the botched attempt – not that she blamed him. But it was kinda impressive that he’d found a water fall to use, like constant rain, but stronger. Better. No rolling or licking required to get every last piece of yuck off. Less effort. That was good.

But—

They’d blown it, huh?

Her tail hung limply between her hocks as she hovered near the edge of the pool, trying to gauge the other wolf from where she stood. “…so…room for two over there?”

He almost missed her small greeting. It seemed she had a way of weaving from his mind to reality. Regardless he was pleased to see her. They had left her alone it seemed and it didn't look like she was missing anything. Except for maybe some energy or pride, but they were both missing that if that was the case.

"Of course, Little Crow." He spoke a little roughly, more due to a dry throat and tired lungs than actual feelings. Big Buzzard wasn't mad at her. It hadn't been her fault they had gotten caught back there. Maybe it was his fault for being so big and lumbering, an easy target to spot. She was made for this kinda thing. She was smaller and speedy, more experienced and had even told him that was why she was named Little Crow. Him? He had never had to steal before. He was Saros. He was not a crow or even a buzzard (he was still trying to figure out what that was) like his given nickname.

His brows furrowed in his thoughts as his green gaze looked out to the water. The stench still lingered and likely would for another day or so but that wasn't his problem. His problem was figuring out what the hell he was doing. Buzzard was starting to become who he was and while that wasn't a bad thing by any means, it wasn't exactly what he had been born to be. "Glad you're alright." He decided to say instead of looking like an awkward moody teen.

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

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

Of course.

He said it so easy, like a wolf who’d never been yelled at for getting to close. Like a wolf who’d never been shunned by blood relatives because they had the wrong mama, or the wrong circumstances, or maybe just the wrong idea how things were supposed to work. He said it so easy, like a wolf in a wolf’s skin, like a wolf that was supposed to be in a wolf’s skin, not like a crow or a thief or a coward.

Sometimes, she wondered if she was a crow at all. She had no big black wings to spread open and carry her away.

Little Crow waded in, careful not to brush against her partner as she stepped underneath the rush of water. He was mostly clean, after all – and she wasn’t in the mood to cause any more of a ruckus. She cracked a yawn, rolling her ears back as he spoke back up, and one brow raised. Huh.

“‘ve seen worse,” she said, rolling one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Y’did the right thing, yanno. Diggin’ while th’ big fatty was runnin’ his stupid mouth. Just shitty luck th’ other one was near enough t’hear ‘em, I guess. We’ll keep movin’, though. Figure out what t’ do next time we find a pack.”

No sense in baiting a hornet’s nest.

He would have laughed at her words if he didn't believe them. There was a good chance that she was good at what she did because she had gone through worse things. In all, their failed heist hadn't been all the awful. Sure they had wasted energy and lost a meal but at least they hadn't been full on attacked and ripped into. They were alive. At the end of the day being alive and hungry was better than dead and full-bellied.

But Big Buzz didn't miss what she had originally said, though. He had done the right thing. When was the last time he had heard that? Had he ever heard that? The yearling should have kept into account that he did the right thing while doing a wrong thing but oh well. All the mattered was he felt a bit better now and maybe - just maybe - his heist companion thought a little better of him.

"Yeah." He agreed softly and nodded his head. Should he tell her he had a previous run in with the fat one? Buzzard really felt as though sharing that now wouldn't do either of them good. "Maybe some sort of fates or gods or whatever will take pity on us next time." The large yearling laughed softly. "Let us snag something bigger and better with more ease." A small grin threatened to break his stoic features as he tossed a glance over at Little Crow.

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

“Fates ‘er gods, huh?”

I mean, sure, Little Crow had heard of those things before, mostly in passing – Orin didn’t seem to care much for them, and her own Mama never had anything real important to say on the matter. Mostly, those things were cusses. And if those were cusses, the young loner wasn’t really sure she wanted those things watching over her shoulder. Ugh.

Which wasn’t to say she wasn’t curious. But curiosity killed the coyote wolf, and Namir bit her tongue, focusing her energy instead on grooming in the waterfall, allowing the cold water to wash away the stench. Shit, that sucked.

She was never going to be able to cuss the same again.

“We gotta keep goin’ south, anyhow. Annabird tol’ me her alpha knew Kahgeeka and Fallen Tree Cove – a cove is a thing, apparently – an’ they were just about th’ north side of th’ mountain.” Which was annoying, but fine. She wouldn’t have found Buzzard if she hadn’t gone by it the first time, and despite their latest adventure, it had been mostly a good thing. And he’d be real helpful when it came time to get her some answers. “Suppose we could always hunt, if there ain’t any packs ‘tween here an’ there, but. Eh.” She sighed heavily. “What didja mean before? ‘Of course’?”

His head gently nodded. "My family believes in ghosts so I wouldn't put it past anyone for believing in a god or fates. Not sure if they're real, though." The large male left out the part about how he had 'seen' these ghosts before debunking them and their lies. He didn't want to make this anymore weird than it might have already been.

Big Buzzard's ear flicked softly as Little Crow explained the info she had picked up. So apparently they were on some sort of right track - even if that track had taken a few detours - which was relieving news to the large yearling. He liked hanging with his bandit partner. She was good and even through their ups and downs she was reliable as hell (something Big Buzzard admired more than anything else) but maybe once this whole Fallen Tree Kageese stuff was over with they could move on to better things. Except, would it still be they after they got there? He forced the thought away as the sound of her voice reached his ears.

"I, uh," What exactly had he meant? "Meant that as long as we're working together like this there'll always be room for two." That sounded good, he hoped. Big Buzzard wished she would see it what he meant it for and didn't read too much into it because he was bad at this whole talking thing.

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

“Oh. Guess that makes sense, kinda. Other wolves at Crow’s Crossin’ had some of ‘em. Along with the first language. Mama didn’t speak it, but my fa-- The alpha did, so I gotta. T’plan. Ain’t a woman’s language, but I ain’t a damn woman, so.”

Little Crow allowed herself a little snort – was she proud? Or did she still allow it to eat at her, the same way abandonment did? The same way the woman’s ugly faces did? The same way the fact that she’d always be a fatherless bastard did? She dwelled in silence for a few moments, ducking her entire body into the falls and savoring the crash of water over skin and bone and flesh and life before returning to that living realm.

Her tail swished across the surface, looking that much smaller as her fur clung to her ribs, spine. She blinked yellow eyes, not quite believing Buzzard, not quite. It sounded awful nice, thought. Maybe for other wolves. Maybe for those who weren’t Little Crow or coyote thief. “Huh. No one ever been like that before. Not even in the damn pack. You know what’s lower than omega? Omega’s pup.” She grunted softly, glancing back at her own pelt. Was she clean enough yet. “Was gonna fix it but, what the hell, right? Why stay? Hey, do I still stink, or am I good?”