Larkcall Lowlands Unto These Hills

The sun had set, the sky was dark, snow fell gently down into the Lowlands, the large shape walking through the ever present layer of the previous snowfall moved slowly. Pink gaze flicked around as Icicle followed the scent. A coyote had been prowling near the pack’s caches and the colorless wolf was determined to track the perpetrator down, maybe find their den, or simple to chase them far from his pack’s food supply. He’d figure out exactly what he was doing when he found the vermin, maybe even just running it deeper into the neutral territories of the eastern lowlands..

After a few moments of undivided attention on the snow, Icicle pulled his nose, checking on his surroundings. Snow covered hills laid all around him, as far as he could see, the light cast cast by the waning moon gave the snow a eerie glow, something serene and beautiful. A soft crunching noise gave away the albino’s presence as he settled down onto his haunches for a moment of peace. Pink gaze roaming the vast black canvas, the stars like sparkling stones in a massive river of darkness. Feeling unusually social, and dropping his guard, Icicle raised his muzzle toward the sky, letting out a low inviting howl to anyone who may just want a casual chat, this night was just too good to waste in loneliness.

*throws lach at @Icicle*

Lachesis had always appreciated the stillness of the night and how oddly welcoming it was. Sleep and the pale healer had never been close, which meant he was well-acquainted with the moon and stars. Not many wolves were nighthawks, which was fine by XIX. Despite being the leader of a pack he was not much of a conversationalist. Unless, of course, it benefited Hearthwood or was with one of his packmates.

His long legs stretched into the darkness as he left behind the canopy of trees that shrouded Hearthwood from the rest of the tundra. Their home in the north shared several similarities with their home in Cedarwood, which had made the transition much easier for Lachesis and his packmates. And the tundra parallel to Kingsfall reminded the Arctic of his birthplace even further north, so for that he was thankful. The cooler temperatures were warmly received by the Stark, who thrived in the snow and ice.

The scent of another reached out to him just moments before an invitation filled the sky. At first his instincts told him to turn the other way and allow another wolf to answer the stranger’s call, but he quickly dismissed those thoughts. The wolf carried the same scent that had clung to Drestig’s pelt. His curiosity took over and drove his legs forward, closing the distance between himself and the other male. Lachesis could not deny he was curious about the Rye wolves, despite not being particularly fond of them. This was largely due to his lack of knowledge, for most of Drestig’s wolves steered clear of Kingsfall and the Hearthwood borders. Craw, also, was not fond of the new pack, for they had settled too close to the monadnock.

Once he was in shouting distance of the albino, Lachesis offered a soft bark in greeting as he approached. His chin was raised, slightly, as he studied the pink-nosed stranger, a brow raised slightly. Lachesis had answered the call: it was his move now.

stick with those who stick with you

Icicle’s ears perked slightly as he heard the bark, his nose twitched as he tasted the scent, determining that the white stranger belonged to a pack yet known to the albino. “Greetings.” he said, a soft smile forming on his pink lips, dipping his head slightly toward the newcomer as a sign of respect. “It’s a pleasant night out, one that seemed far too good to pass up on enjoying in solitude.” he gestured toward the vats field of snow all around them.

“I’m Icicle by the way.” he added, turning his attention up toward the sky as a stray wisp of cloud passed by the crescent shaped moon. A long shadow cats by it drifted over the pristine snow. The colorless wolf turned his attention fully onto arctic wolf, settling down onto his stomach and waiting invitingly. Unsure where the newcomer might stand with pack politics, it seemed like as good a chance as any to meet any wolves from the area he wasn’t familiar with. One never know when even a simple acquaintance could prove valuable in the indeterminable winter and how easily life could bite you in the ass.

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

The healer nodded silently at the pink-nosed wolf’s words, a small smile rolling onto his lips. He had been looking forward to a night of solitude, but the Rye wolf before him did not seem like bad company. Perhaps he would be satisfied with a bought of silence. “You’re absolutely right,” the alpha commented as he settled down a few tail-lengths away from the albino, his hindquarters folding neatly beneath him as his chartreuse gaze settled on the dark sky before them. It was moments like this that XIX was thankful sleep evaded him most nights. Despite his alabaster coat, he preferred the night to day. It offered ideal scouting conditions—for both plants and wolves, for the most interesting personalities showed their face under the cover of darkness.

After a brief pause the wolf introduced himself, his pink eyes falling onto the Arctic’s lanky figure. “Lachesis Stark,” he responded, quickly, his head tipping to the right as he studied his pale companion for the night. He allowed the silence to surround them once more; the cold air kissed his fur, though not reaching his flushed skin due thick, Arctic coat. Despite being born of the snow, in a place further north than the lowlands, Lachesis was ready for the snow to melt away. While Hearthwood had not suffered any casualties over winter, it had been unexpectedly cold this year. He was ready for the temperatures to rise and the snow to melt.

stick with those who stick with you