Riddle Heights pour me another drink

@Greer

His muscles ached by the time the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. The male's body was dying for a break but he kept pushing on, wishing to feel more of the burn that ran through his body. It was a reminder that he had freed himself from Aileen's grasp. She had been awfully good to him but smothered him more than he could handle. Granted he had never been one for good feelings. For wherever he went he seemed to leave a wash of bitterness in his path.

Only a year ago he would have tried to fight that bitterness. Now he wallowed in it, accepted it and moved on.

It was why he put him through the burn of climbing the heights. No one would find him up here for only fools dared to climb the mountain in the winter. Of course, he had also traveled back north where conditions had been harsher than they had been down in the south. Sunny days seemed endless there and he would have stayed was it not for that smothering lover.

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leaving results of this thread vague guardian dem 1/3 

Their daughter was home now; that was all that mattered to the shadow. The worrying could cease and things could return to normal—or as normal as they could be. Things were still tense in the south. Between the heights and the ridge. Greer knew he needed to visit his younger sister. To apologize. Make things right. Especially if she still had scouts looking for the scarlet Archer. Would that even do anything? Would it mend their frayed relationship and establish peace between the Archer packs once more? As long as his older sister remained in the south, at the lagoon, Greer doubted that there would be peace. Morganna always had something planned, even if she didn’t know it herself. Her brain was always ticking.

He was reluctant to leave the heights, especially after travelling for so long, but an unknown scent pulled him away from his borders. It dripped with familiarity but he couldn’t put a face to it. Or a name. Not without seeing who it was. His curiosity drove him over the rugged terrain, his spider-like legs moving with easy over the rock. A dark shape in the distance caught his attention, causing his silver gaze to narrow as he exhaled sharply out his nostrils. He didn’t speak. Instead, the shadow observed from a distance, his tail arched high over his back. The stranger picked a poor time to venture onto the heights. 

(This post was last modified: May 02, 2018, 04:58 AM by Greer.)

Amber eyes swiftly fell upon the long-legged form just up ahead. The beefy male slowly halted his movements, dark brows knitted together. He wanted to say there was something familiar about it but he had seen so many wolves that looked just the same. It was almost impossible to tell this one apart from all the others.

Although instinct told him to challenge the stranger's strong position, Deacon held back. His ears sat erect on his head in case the other said anything first. But moments of seconds told him that it was unlikely.

He offered a low, rugged bark. Deacon was already so rugged around the edges it seemed his voice was following suit. "Fancy helping a fellow fool?" For they were both perched on top of the stone in the winter and that was enough for the large male to consider them both fools.

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There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

guardian dem 2/3 

Fortunately for Greer he did not need to announce his presence for the larger male to acknowledge him. He was greeted by two pools of warm amber before the stranger offered a low bark. There was something rough about the loner’s dark appearance, but familiar as well. Although there was a surplus of black furred wolves in the south not all of them were related to the Archer lineage. But this one—it was possible. Fancy helping a fellow fool? His head tipped to the side at the question as a frown cut across his ebony lips. Perhaps he was a fool to live atop the mountain, especially in the winter, but he had grown accustom to the higher altitude and the strange weather that accompanied it. Help with? He asked, his voice much smoother than his dark companion. 

(This post was last modified: May 02, 2018, 04:58 AM by Greer.)

Ah, so the strange did speak.

Deacon listened with interest. There was something more familiar about the male with his smooth voice but what was it? Had they crossed paths before? Surely the large male must have not pissed this one off otherwise he might be tumbling down the mountainside. "Help me find the safest path to use. I'm thinking of heading further north." He replied, supplying only as much information as necessary to receive the help he wanted.

It was with a careful slowness that Deacon closed some of the distance between him and the more lean stranger. "Say...you look awfully familiar." His head pulled back to get a good glance at the male again, eyes harmlessly roaming over his form. "Have we worked together before?" A soft curiosity laced his tones. Maybe he was a fool to not recognize his own brother but it wasn't like they had been awfully close or had any contact in ages.

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guardian dem 3/3

A line formed between his brows. The dark stranger wanted to head further north? The weather was growing warmer, so it was likely the path wouldn’t be too difficult, but the threat of encountering an avalanche was very possible. Either this wolf was very bold or very stupid; maybe both. Greer hadn’t decided yet. The shadow nodded in response, confirming that he would help the dark loner make his way north. He stepped closer to the large male when he spoke once more, asking if they had worked together. Immediately his steps ceased and his lips fell into a frown. Worked together? Unlikely. Greer was a lone wolf at heart; he did not work well with others. Aside from Kyna, but she had always been the exception to his loner tendencies. No, he started, his expression still grim, not think so. A shrug was given. Live here once? If the loner was a Lore native it was possible they had crossed paths before. Greer wasn’t the best with names but he was pretty good at remembering faces. 

(This post was last modified: May 02, 2018, 04:58 AM by Greer.)

His features fell into something more thoughtful at the male's short words. If they had not crossed paths then why was the male so familiar? Deacon's ears fell flat at the question as he pondered the idea of giving away his personal information. What if this was someone he had pissed off before? The large male had been trying to avoid old enemies. Perhaps he would have been better staying in the smothering grips of Aileen.

"I've lived all over but..." His voice trailed off as his shoulders gave a soft roll. "I was born where the willow trees are. Willow Ridge." The name fell from his lips softly as if it was a secret that might shatter the mountain below them. His rugged form leaned back, curious as to how the words would be taken. If the male had not recognized him (granted he had become more burly and hard around the edges in his time away) then perhaps there was no ill blood between them.

"But that was a long time ago." He added on softly, orange eyes meeting silver.

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His ears twitched as the stranger spoke. I was born where the willow trees are. Wait—had Greer heard him correctly? Willow Ridge, the dark loner repeated, earning a perplexed expression from the long-legged shadow. His nostrils flared as he leaned forward in an attempt to catch another whiff of the stranger’s scent. If he had been born in the willows surely Greer would have remembered him… right? But he’d never paid attention to the wolves in his birth pack. Not unless they shared the same surname as him. Greer born there also, he responded, a hint of uncertainty playing with his words as they tumbled off the tip of his tongue. His expression remained grim, his ears cupping forward as he took a hesitant step forward. Who? Why couldn’t he remember?!

Oh, well that was a familiar name. Granted Deacon had not been expecting to hear the name and found himself with his mouth hanging open some. He had never been particularly close with his more lanky brother but that didn't mean there were no feelings. Perhaps Deacon had messed up a pawful of times in his life but he still cared deeply for his family.

"It's Deacon." He finally replied, finding his brain and tongue working together again. "So this is where you've gone off to?" Maybe being fools ran in the family. They were both on top of the heights in these awful conditions after all. But his brother smelled of others whereas Deacon held no scent but his own. That was the most interesting thing of all. What kind of wolves had gained his litter mate's interest? Especially here.

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