Drooping Willows The Wanderer

Namid wandered through the grove of waving willows, their flowing branches swaying in the gentle breeze that ruffled the canine’s silver pelt. Her maw hung open slightly in child-like awe at the sight for she had never seen anything like it in her life-time.

All the trees she had been around had been stiff maples, and while they were pretty with their decidedly amber leaves in the fall there wasn’t much variation about them. The fact that they rained sap like tears during the hotter months didn’t help at all and most of the time it had left her with a very sticky pelt and a very cross attitude. But these trees, their branches moved with a fluidity like a gentle stream and the sounds they made were almost whimsical. They made her want to get up and dance in the ways she had been taught by her tribe, though to others it would look like she was chasing her tail or trying to bite at some fleas.

Though there wasn’t anyone around now, was there?

With that in mind she curled up the corners of her maw in a bright grin, closing her multi-colored gaze for a second as she listened to the sounds around her before she started to move. At first it was just in swaying movements, almost like she was doing a gentle waltz but then it turned into quicker steps and more twisting and turning. It involved more ups and downs and, if one looked closely, it was like she was swaying with the branches of the spindly willow, moving with it like they were intertwined in a tango.

Though she began so engrossed in what she was doing that she hardly noticed until she became entangled in the snaring limbs. Looking around as she was snapped back into reality she moved and grimaced at the vice like grip she was caught in. “Oh bother,” she mumbled, then set to trying to wriggle and twist her way out of their hold.

hope you don't mind me butting in :3

Days were long when one had such a troubled mind. Or so he had come to realize was personally applicable in the weeks that were coming to pass. Willow Ridge was an incredible home, but he could not keep his shadowy family in the recesses of his mind much longer. Sometimes their metallic stares comforted him. Sometimes their fiery gazes tormented him. When it was the latter, the Attaya yearling would send himself to mind the borders - using it as an excuse for a cathartic walk.

Usually there were no visitors around. It made sense to the mottled boy. Elettra and Angier's litter were a lively bunch and it really did take a village - or in this case, a pack - to keep everyone adequately fed and safe. Any neighboring wolves were likely had the same principal in mind. That was why when Rowan got the first scent of another wolf on the warm breeze, he headed for it. Though the stranger had been graceful prior to her blunder, the Willow Ridge youth hadn't been around for that part. All he saw was a silver lady wrapped up in the Drooping Willows' vine-like branches. For a short moment he was dumbfounded, wondering how she had caught herself like that - then he recalled not too long ago when he hadn't been paying any attention to his surroundings and he had bumped his head on a branch real good.

Without much pomp and fancy the boy approached, not trying to be discrete nor dominant. He was not an ambassador of Willow Ridge currently. He merely wanted to help. Unless she protested or lashed out, Rowan would reach his jaws forward and grasp a branch before setting his teeth together with a firm click to free the silver wolf of her foliage shackles. The distance - or lack there of - between himself and a stranger made the Attaya incredibly uncomfortable, however, so he managed only one or two bites in to the branches, just enough to get her to untangle the rest, before backing off several paces to observe her with his tarnished-gold gaze.

The way her head had been positioned it had made it nearly impossible for Namid to twist her head in a way that would allow her to sink her canines into the vines and efficiently snap them. This worried her and, just as she was beginning to think she’d be trapped there for a very long time, the scent of another wolf invaded her senses. From the musk she could tell it was a male and possibly not a very old one. A sigh of relief almost escaped her jaws before she remembered her parents’ warnings about packs and their members. Had she treaded on the wrong territory?

Cramming her head she tried to get a better view of the coming wolf but couldn't quite manage. She found it quite a shock when the male started to nip her free of the vines, taking in a welcomed breath as he loosed one that had wrapped rather uncomfortably around her chest. As he snapped another one loose it felt as if the rest of the branches were falling off, which she took as her queue to get the heck out of those pesky limbs. Wriggling her way out in a rather unladylike fashion she escaped with only a minor abrasion to her ego and a few stray leaves clutched to her fluffy pelt.

As she turned around she was finally able to get a good look at her ‘hero’ so to speak. He was only a yearling, this she could tell by his young appearance. Though, who was she to judge someone only a year younger than herself? Either way he had taken her out of a rather nasty situation and for that she was very grateful.
“Oh goodness, thank you very much for that. I don’t really know how it happened, one moment I was just moving about and the next I was caught in a sea of green vines. They sort of hurt, you know, don’t let them fool you,” She rambled, then quickly caught herself and took a breath. The Star Dancer had a tendency to prate and it could be quite a put off if she wasn't careful.

Throwing up a bright smile she dipped her head, “Ah, just thank you,” She finished, heat pecking at her cheeks.

(This post was last modified: Jun 09, 2014, 05:49 AM by Namid.)

Without much trouble more the female was able to wrench herself free of the willows' hold. He was grateful for the distance he had put between them, watching as the vine-like branches lashed into the air, as if angry they had been forced to let go of their prize. Could have smacked him in the cheek if he was close enough, he thought. The stranger, however, seemed fine, and set quickly to thanking him. Quickly the boy averted his gaze, giving a small shake of his head. "It was no problem at all," he insisted as she finished her explanation. Rowan was no stranger when it came to gratitude, but preferred to be the grateful one. He didn't deserve another's praise and was reluctant to accept it from her regardless of what he had done. But he didn't want to be rude either, so he slowly returned his gaze to the newly-freed wolf before him.

Recalling again his bump to the head he offered a half-smile and agreement. "I've been burned before." So to speak. He paused for a moment, having finally come to meet her gaze only to see how peculiar - and pretty, really - it was. The silvery wolf had a mismatched pair, one in striking blue and the other of a warm, dark brown. He had never seen anything like it before. He was, however, more confused than charmed. How did this interesting female end up in the willows any-how? The Attaya boy kept his thoughts to himself for now, not wanting to be rude or overstep the boundaries between strangers. If she fancied a conversation, he could oblige - but he did not want to burden her with company if she was really just minding her own. Blinking after an awkward pause he continued, "Navigating these Willows can be tricky. Are you alright?"

The dusty male seemed to be very cordial in his responses to her and, by the shuffling of his stance, he seemed to be slightly uncomfortable by her praises. Her friendly heart automatically warmed to him. She also couldn’t help but notice his pause as he finally locked with her rather peculiar gaze, seemingly thrown off by the contrast they showed.

This was a normal thing to her, nothing strange about the reaction because she had seen it before. The stark contrast between the light and the dark was rather unbalancing to look at; it almost made you feel foggy in the mind. Or so she’d been told.

The silver pelted she-wolf crooked the corners of her lips into a gentle smirk, not a mocking but just by habit. She more often smirked than really smiled. Her auds swiveled forward to catch his question and her cranium tilted to the side, “Oh, yes, I’m fine. They caught me off guard I suppose. Where I’m from we don’t have trees like these, the…Willows you called them? They’re very whimsical,” Namid admonished, looking around once more before returning her gaze to him.

Now, it was her turn to give the brute a once over. He was larger than her even at his age and seemed to be in very good shape. The twisting and swirling hues in his pelt were fascinating, an artist’s dream, and his eyes were very curious as well. While her own were off-putting his drew you in, sinking you in to their golden depths. Curious, she thought to herself.

Rowan furrowed his brow in confusion. She'd never seen willows before? That was weird. ... Was that weird? Maybe she knew plenty that he didn't. He had been born in the Lore, but on the other side of the Serpent's Pass, and even now he really did not know much about these lands or their inhabitants. Was it vast or was it cozy? What other packs lived beyond the willow trees? Did one of them harbor his beloved sisters and brother... perhaps mother and father? Though he had been forced to grow up much quicker than others, and he denied it whenever the thought arose, the truth was Rowan was just a naive boy. Swallowing that hard truth he half-smiled, nodding to her observation. Whimsical. "I've seen them dance in the wind before," he commented in reply, recalling the grace with which they swung whenever a breeze rolled through Willow Ridge grounds. Perhaps he was not so starry eyed as his companion, but the dust-colored male still noticed.

Not knowing the growing patterns of willows in any intimate fashion he couldn't really estimate where she was from, if it wasn't from around here, but he still imagined she came from a far off place. Somewhere he'd never even dreamed of going. And since she didn't seem to be pardoning herself off further, he figured indulging his curiosity - just this once - wasn't too harmful. "What brings you out here?" Rowan asked, hoping the question was innocent enough to warrant an answer. He personally was a guarded individual, but he was able to recognize that in himself. By no means was Rowan slow to develop social skills, though until now he hadn't much practice with societal convention - especially in instances where he sought interaction on his own. If it was rude to question, however, he hoped this silvery female might tell him so. And if it wasn't, well, the conversation would go on to his pleasure.

Namid blinked at his question, her tail sweeping thoughtfully across the ground behind her lithe built frame. A debate went on in her mind as to whether or not she should tell the honestly unknown brute why it was, exactly, that she was out all on her lonesome. It wasn’t exactly something private, in her mind, rather than something that made an ache blossom in her chest when thought about. Uncomfortable, that is what it made her. She would have to get used to it eventually is she were ever to get past the fact. While she didn’t want to forget her past and her family she didn’t want to use her scars as a guide of sorts. Meaning that even with the event that had happened and though it had left her scarred she didn’t want it to define her.

“The reservation I had grown up on was seized by strange humans. My family was taken and I was not to be taken with them, for some reason, so I did not have much of a choice. I have been wandering since then.” The silver pelted fae explained, feeling the familiar ping deep inside of her. But she pushed it aside, unwilling and too stubborn to let it consume her.

Suddenly, it occurred to her own unknown the dusty male was. She didn’t even happen to know his name, so that was exactly what she asked. “We have been speaking this whole time and it just occurred to me that I do not even know your name. My apologies, my name is Namid. It means Star Dancer, where I am from. Can I ask what your name might be?” She asked gently, hopefully not to upset any boundaries they may have up.

(This post was last modified: Jun 14, 2014, 02:19 AM by Namid.)

( eeehh sorry!! )

He was listening intently, he really was, but the story that came from her mouth was so confusing to the Attaya boy that he wondered if he had heard her correctly at all. In truth, he made sense of it, except when it came to one word. Humans. He hadn't heard that word before, not even in the few tales he had heard as a child. Pixies, goblins, shifters... he had knowledge of those. But Rowan, even as he searched the deepest folds of his brain, couldn't recall something called "humans". The question bubbled up from his curiosity but, recalling his manners, the Willow Ridge wolf was quick to bite his tongue. According to this lady, she was separated from her family without choice. Rowan knew this hurt intimately himself. It would be cold of him to ignore that, given that she had admitted it to him, and he would never forgive himself to brush it off so callously.

A sympathetic expression fell across his dark mask, allowing his dull gold eyes to fall to the floor in an expression of his condolences. "I am deeply sorry about the pain of your past," he said softly, genuinely. There were no wolves stranger to hardship, but the loss of family always stung harder than any other bee. But he respected her change in pace when she ditched the back story for an introduction. Lifting his muzzle once more he nodded to the odd-eyed wolf, Namid. Star Dancer. For a split second he almost grinned, finding her name meaning strangely fitting to the silvery female even though he had only just made her acquaintance. "Pleasure meeting you, Namid. My name is Rowan Attaya, belonging to the pack of Willow Ridge not too far from here." He sort of glanced toward their pack lands for reference, but had nothing more to say of the topic. Rather, he was still bothered by his lack of knowledge - and thus mentioned ever so cautiously, "I have never heard of 'humans'... I do not think we have them here."

(This post was last modified: Jun 22, 2014, 08:17 PM by Rowan.)

adopt thea?

(Sorry on my part too e.e much vacation.)

Namid took in his reaction as she did before, always watchful and calculating however still managing to keep a happy and gentle stance. Deep in his blazing amber gaze she could see knowledge, knowledge of what she felt which could only come with experience. There flashed recognition and, in a way, she felt a mix of sadness and comfort. Comfort that she was not alone in the separation, the memories of yelling and pleading. But, at the same time, that was her cause of sadness as well. To know that others had to leave what they knew, to leave the ones that knew them best and whom they’d come to love so deeply whether it was by choice or not. She didn’t wish that on anyone, and suddenly she felt a sense of familiarity toward the younger male which could only come from one who shared a kin of past.

A smile curled onto her maw, stretching to her heterochromatic gaze as she shook her head. “Do not worry about my suffering. Everyone suffers in their lifetime, some more and some less. It is what builds us and makes us what we are, though we must be careful to not use the past as a guide book. True?” She laughed, a kind of merry laugh that insisted upon her statement.

Pausing to think of his most recent question it was her turn to become confused. It hadn’t occurred to her that others wouldn’t know what a human was, that some of them may never see them in their lifetime and here, they may even be revered as a threat or something to be afraid of. Her mother and father had told her of stories of wolves beyond them, which lived in places they would never go or ever see not because they were bad places, but because their home was on the reservation. She had been told that there were bad humans in the world, ones that wanted to kill, maim, and capture them simply out of prize or study. To take away their freedom, which made them the wolves they were.

Even then, with those stories, it was almost unfathomable for her to think that some would not know of these wonderful beings. But she kept her smile straight because this fact didn’t bother her. It was just something to help further the knowledge of another, and she herself had been told many a new information during their meeting. “Humans are beings that walk up on two legs. They are furless except for their heads and little bits above their eyes. They do not speak as we do, but you can understand what they say sometimes. They are almost like us, in a way. They love family deeply and they crave freedom.” She explained, tilting her head as she thought of a proper way to explain. She felt she did well enough in that, and left it for that.

“Is your pack kind?” The Star Dancer inquired curiously, brows rising in curiosity. Rowan himself seemed to be very nice, but she knew from those same stories that some packs were ruthless and would sooner kill a wolf for being near their home and on lands they claimed as their own than allow them to continue on any journey they may have. She hoped that his pack would not be one of those.

(This post was last modified: Jun 30, 2014, 07:40 PM by Namid.)

The silver wolf seemed wise beyond her years, or at least that was all Rowan could think when she spoke so eloquently about their hardships producing their best self. For a moment his heart could not agree. Each time he remembered that day in October his throat would close and he found himself unable to breathe below the surface of the memory. In a preventative measure he turned his head sharply, dragging his golden gaze along the dangling branches of the willow to remind himself he was not there. Suppose it was true, there would have never been a drowned prince like he had the blackened waters not drag him to the mud and sand below. At the very least, Rowan could say he was no longer naive as a result of that childhood. He produced half a grin in response to her self-confirming laugh, raising his brows in agreement.

He swallowed the breath hitched in his throat, curiously intent on her description of "humans" to distract him from any remnant of memory. Rowan, as he listened, created an image in his head of the creatures Namid described... which was basically a wolf standing on its hind legs, naked but for a circle of hair at the crown of its skull and spots above its eyes. "No such human lives here," he reassured her. It certainly sounded like a monstrosity but the female went on to clarify that their needs mimicked those of the wolf. He flicked his dust-colored tail with a little sympathy, but still wondered if he ever really wanted to encounter one such weird animal. Perhaps not.

On the subject of his pack Rowan was much more familiar, and capable of smiling again. After a quiet moment of thought the yearling responded, "My pack is just." Perhaps the most just in the entire Lore, he imagined. "You will reap what you sow here," he added with a muted shrug. Though the words by their nature sounded severe, he knew it was their truth that mattered. The Attaya boy had given the pack his heart and soul, and felt theirs in return. Others hadn't - for they did have a Lowest among their ranks. They challenged one another and hunted together and through it all, called each other family. It was exactly what the masked boy wanted. But it wasn't everyone's cuppa. His gaze sought Namid in a curious fashion, wondering both why she asked and what she thought in return.