Cedarwood Forest The Worst Fresh Start

Stormfur lay shivering in her frantically-dug den, wishing, not for the first time, that she were a part of a pack again. She had been on her own for far too long, and her weight was beginning to drop because of it. Being a loner meant only having the ability to take down smaller prey. Rabbits, mice, sometimes squirrels if they were stupid enough to go running along the ground instead of the trees. These tiny morsels were not enough to feed a fully-grown wolf, and Storm was suffering for it. Not that she had never suffered before. Being almost three years old -- and having grown up where she had -- meant she had seen plenty of struggle and strife as a pup and juvenile. But that didn't make being miserably cold and hungry any easier. In fact, it seemed to make it harder.

Having been raised in a pack led by tyrants, she had grown up quickly, and been weaned probably too young for her own good -- though that had not deterred her from growing into a very large, greyscale she-wolf. That had everything to do with lineage. Her dam and sire had both been very large Mackenzie Valley wolves, though, of course, they didn't call themselves that. Actually, Storm didn't remember at all what her parents' names were. She never called them anything but Alpha, as in, "Yes, Alpha," or "No, Alpha," or even the dreaded, "I'm sorry, Alpha." Dreaded because it meant she had done something wrong, and was to be punished, usually by some kind of beating, or perhaps by being denied food for a ridiculous length of time.

Did it make her less wolf-like? The fact that she rather detested fighting? Perhaps. But most wolves fought because they had to. Her pack -- or, more specifically, the Alphas of her pack -- had fought because they gleaned some sick pleasure from killing that Storm, for the life of her, could not, and refused, to understand. What was the point of killing for no reason? Spilling innocent blood with no motive? Traipsing all over another pack's territory and ripping out the throat of any wolf who objected? There was nothing to be gained from doing those things, as far as she was concerned. So, not too long ago, she'd run away. And now, despite being happy with her choice, she wasn't really in the best of places at the moment.

With a miserable shiver, she tucked her nose beneath her tail, pulled her body into a tighter circle inside of her tiny, frost-covered den, and tried to get some sleep, hoping against hope that no one would disturb her...

Being the ever dutiful guardian he was determined to be, there was no such thing as too many patrols to make sure the borders to Cut Rock River were safe and secure. A small smile had met his muzzle and danced around his face as he rounded the borders for a final time that day before he was to go and do some scouting. That was the major thing about him, he had to stay active and alert. It never took him too long to recover from anything, even his fight with his former auntie whom he once looked up to and respected. The ebony lad continued diligently along his path when a stranger's scent caught his muzzle. And who would be here now? He would started to question himself as he peered around to find the mysterious wolf.

His adventuring around eventually led him to be within eyesight of the grey figure in the distance curled up as she tried to keep warm. No, damnit. He tried to convince himself to not step in with this one too. He had stepped in to talk to Aponi when she wandered too far from home and look how that had turned out. Still, his true nature kicked in and so he slowly approached her. "Hello? I'm Karpos." The greeting would be soft as he did not want to spook her in case she was one of the diseased that he had heard about scarcely before his father's passing. His chocolate brown orbs held an expression of sympathy as his paws slowly approached the larger female in the dirt. He stopped a few wolf lengths in front of her as he cocked his head to the side.

Thanks for joining! This site looks awesome! ... Sorry for rambling. >.<

Despite having her nose tucked into her tail, Stormfur could not miss the unmistakable scent of Wolf. Pack Wolf. She knew this by the scent of many other wolves clinging to his pelt, but other than that, she was clueless as to who the young male might be. Having scented him as he rounded the bend, she lifted her head, ears perked, but remained in a neutral stance, continuing to lie down, as a show of good faith. She did not want a fight with someone she did not know, in a territory unfamiliar to her, as the chill of nighttime came seeping ever more into her bones. She wanted food, she wanted shelter. That was all. But perhaps... Well, this male was a pack wolf. Perhaps she could... ask to be taken in? Maybe. But for the moment, a simple introduction would do.

She watched with a keen, yet stoic gaze as he slowly approached her, noted the slight trepidation in his voice. Karpos. An odd name to the likes of her. In her birth pack, all wolves had a similar naming convention. You gained the first part of your name at birth, which, for her, had been Storm. All names were descriptive to the wolf in question. In this case, her name described her coloration, as she was quite stormy-looking, being nothing but greys and blacks. You gained the second part of your name once you gained a Trade -- whether it was as Warrior, Hunter, Healer, or some other helpful trait. This part of your name was simply another descriptor. Sometimes it had to do with your trade (like Stormhunter), and sometimes not. In her case, it simply solidified the fact that, yes, her fur was indeed quite stormy.

This second naming ceremony normally happened around age one. Those who had not gained the second part of their name by age two were deemed a disgrace and thrown out. Not that she agreed with this sort of treatment. Still, it was all she knew, so to find a wolf with a name like Karpos was rather odd, unless perhaps it was a descriptive name in another language. She had only ever heard the one. With a shake, she realized she had become lost in thought, and her gaze refocused on the male.

"Hello," she said, her voice a deep and calming timbre, fitting nicely with her large, formidable body. "I am Stormfur. You may call me Storm or Stormfur. Your choice... Or perhaps you may call me a completely different name. It does not matter to me." She said no more after this, only blinked good-naturedly and continued lying there, effectively passing the direction of the conversation off to him once more.