Windsong Fjord a penny for your thoughts

For @Gent -- Late afternoon, sunny, 73F
I do have Kisla/Rachel's permission to write him as a member of the pack~

Kingsfall was acceptable, as far as locations went. It would never be the ocean. It would never hold the tangy scent of salt in the air, nor would it be blanketed by the sound of crashing waves or shrieking gulls. There would be no sand beneath his feet, nor harsh wind nipping at a dry nose. But there were benefits, he supposed, to living in a forest dominated by massive sequoia trees. Space was bountiful. If he wished to disappear among the shadows, it was no difficult task. There was plenty of things to eat – it was not a disappointment. Kingsfall was acceptable, as far as locations went. As long as Kisla and her pack opted to remain, as would he, joined into the folds.

Of course, this did not keep him from crossing the borders. He'd previously trekked through the north, on his way into Relic Lore, but the majority of Snowmarch Expanse remained foreign to him. His knowledge, in part, had bartered his entrance to the pack, and if he wished to remain a member in good standing, it was pivotal that he continued gathering this resource. Trekking westward, he followed the tributaries to Turtleback Lake. Continuing along the waterway, he found his way to Windsong Fjord, using old deer paths to navigate his way along the steep trails.

Thus far, he'd not scented any packs in the area, nor any lone wolves. A good sign, he determined – there would be no competition for the pack's land or resources. Descending towards the water, he paused for a drink of the cool water. Once his thirst was quenched, he would turn back towards Kingsfall. As a new member, it would not be wise to be absent from the land for too long.

Once more, Gent had allowed his paws to wander from home, taking him far east to Tokino's final resting place. He did not believe that the dead remained, not in spirit, not as energy, not in a great beyond. For him, there was nothing to look forward to in death, and he would not pretend that others receive anything different. Thus, his actions were in no way out of deference for the late alpha, but rather were taken on behalf of his packmates, of the children the fallen man was forced to leave behind, and most especially, of Minka. As his large paws came to rest before the unmarked grave, he took a moment not to pay his respects but rather to reaffirm himself in his ambitions. There was no guilt within his chest over his actions and motives, of so swiftly striving to take the man's place. Any decent husband or father would have wanted the continuation of his family, though perhaps not the stripping of their inheritance as Gent truly intended. No, it didn't matter what the dead wanted. This was what Gent wanted, and most importantly, what Minka needed. This was for the living.

He pressed forward, traveling farther east than he had dared to previously. While the lands to the east were far more familiar to him than heading west past his home, he didn't like venturing far in any compass direction, given the three soft, chubby cubs waiting for him within the domain of Round Stone Crest. No matter how long he was gone, each time he found himself dearly missing the children. He was not a true father, and he knew that there would be an even stronger bond once his own offspring were birthed, but at this moment in his life he had never loved something other than himself so much. Each moment away from them, he wondered if he could possibly be missing something; their ears lifting, their first words, them learning his name.

Shaking the thoughts of what was waiting for him at home away, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. No clues had turned up at the general area in which the murder occurred, and so he stepped out on a limb to seek further away. Something had to turn up, a crime couldn't be so perfect, especially when not a single attempt had been made to hide the deed. As he traveled, Gent began to pick up on the scent of someone else. Immediately, there was a familiarity to it; he recognized the man as being with the Cut Rock River pack, his past enemies but, as fate so loved to twist things around, his current allies. The Lieris heir may have turned around then, abandoning the mission in favor of not being away from his adopted family too long, except something else about the other's scent struck him. Underneath the new, the more deeply embedded smells were not of white cedar and moist soil as had been the foundation of Naia's aroma. Instead, it imitated the essence of the land they both currently inhabited. While this could be a reflection of the river wolves' recent relocation, it hinted more solidly toward a past here in the northern territories that extended before Maksim relinquished hold of his land in Southern Eden.

A sharp bark broke loose from his throat, echoing for a moment in the clear air. This sound was meant to signal the other male, requesting his presence. Hopefully, he would recognize Gent's own scent as that of an ally and heed the call. Meanwhile, the blue-black beast pressed forward, devouring the ground beneath him with each eager stride. What if this was it, the witness he'd been searching so vigilantly for?

Upwind, Gent had been disguised from the earth-toned wolf. The small, one-eyed male relished in the taste of the cool, crisp water – it tasted of earth and rock, clean and refreshing. His parched throat was satisfied as he took his time, pausing only to glance at his own reflection. Empty socket aside, he was looking much healthier than he had in months. Winter had gone and prey items had multiplied – the forest of Relic Lore had been generous to him in more ways than one. While the badger woman had been lost to him, he'd gotten an even lovelier treasure in return. It was a fair trade, to say the least.

A sharp bark shook the dragon from his thoughts, head jerking up abruptly. His ruff stood on edge as his tail flagged, ears rolling back as he swiveled, spotting the shadowy wolf approaching. Teeth were bared in an unspoken warning, but the stranger's call had been a summons – whether or not it was a trap remained to be seen. Kjors stalked forth, chiding himself for being caught downhill by a much larger stranger. When they were four wolf-lengths apart, he halted, shoulders squared as he sized up the other male.

He too was a pack wolf – and smelt somewhat similar to the yearling male he'd met upon his arrival to Relic Lore, Kova. While he did not know to which pack the boy belonged, the silvery male had been amicable at least…but he did not have the same size and power a full grown grey wolf. The dragon's banner lashed as he released his own bark, preferring the pair kept their distance. "Who're ya? Who d'ya belong to?" he demanded, single eye narrowed. "Wha' do ya wan'?"

This man didn't offer anything close to the greeting Gent had been expecting. Of course, he should have anticipated it, for if he was as new to the allied Hearthwood River pack as he smelled, he would know Gent's pack by name alone, if even that. While the aggressive and unbowing posture might have struck a nerve with the soon-to-be-king elsewhere, once realizing that this man did not recognize the banner he proudly hailed he could not blame him for reacting as such. Indeed, Gent might have been just as defensive if put in this man's pawsteps.

He pulled up short, allowing this stranger his distance, but also maintained an elevated posture. A bristled display akin to the one-eyed wolf's to prove that he would retaliate violently if Kjors stepped out of line.

"Gent Lieris, of Round Stone Crest, formerly titled Black Thorn Downs. Are you a River wolf?" he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply to further analyze his scent while giving the other man room to answer, however he would continue with his questioning regardless of whether the assumption was affirmed or denied.

"A murder took place in the palisades not two months ago. Happen to know anything about it?"

(This post was last modified: Jun 03, 2015, 03:50 AM by Gent.)

"Ah. Yes. Ah belong with th' River wolves. Hearthwood River," he clarified. It seemed his pack was not the only ones who'd gone through a reformation. Kisla had told him the wolves of Black Thorn Downs were their allies…which was, he supposed, why this dark wolf had summoned him once scented. They were meant to assist each other. It was not something the dragon had any true interest in doing – but for the time being, entertaining Gent did not harm him. "M'name 's Kjors, as it were. Ye'll 'scuse me 'fer naw recognizin' ya. Haven' met a Round Stone Crest wolf proper since pledgin' t' Kisla."

His hackles began to settle back on his pelt, ears returning to a more curious posture. Far be it from him to start a dispute between their packs. That would certainly earn him no love from his new alphas. While he did not edge any closer, never trusting of any stranger (supposed ally or not), his posture no longer indicated he was willing to pick a fight if the larger wolf began to throw bones. As it were, he posed a very interesting question. Why he asked Kjors, only the Mother know, but it intrigued him all the same.

Murder was very interesting business.

"Ah was 'bout th' palisades two months ago, as it were. Jes' enterin' Relic Lore," he replied casually, arching a brow. This was very interesting business, indeed. "Wha' stake d'ya have wha' happened between two wolves? Ain' 'veryday Ah git asked 'bout murder, y'know." Of course, knowledge was his trade. "So, who're ya lookin' for?"

Gent calmed as his companion did, though remained prepared should things turn unfavorable, core muscles remaining tense underneath thick blue black fur.  He regarded the older male as spoke, words casual and plenty without overextending, glacial eyes scanning over his rugged musculature and pausing briefly upon the tattered hole that served no purpose other than to marker some violent event in the man's past. It wasn't until the word palisades glided through the air on Kjors' thickly accented voice that Gent's focus magnified. He pinned his gaze somewhere upon the other man's muzzle, respecting him mildly enough so as not to make eye contact, while he ears pressed forward at full attention.

It had been a simple yes or no question, yet the man merely played around with his words, dodging the truth and mildly digging for more before releasing his answer. This not only puzzled Gent but put him on edge, for it was clear to see that he was not being fully cooperated with. Yet Kjors managed this without being impolite, conversationally really. As though this were the weather they were talking about. The only indication that he might understand that gravity with which Gent was speaking was the single, sharp arch in his brow. Though that only served to prove mild interest, at best.

It crossed the would-be king's mind that perhaps this was just an extension of that so aggressively-guarded greeting he'd been met with; perhaps it was merely this odd-speaking man's personality. And so Gent would make it clear, he wasn't in the mood for anything out of this wolf that wasn't direct.

"The murderer," he answered, only to Kjors' last question and in a voice that was flat and unamused. If Sorenson wanted to be stingy with the meat of his information, so would Gent.

"Well, lad, yer gonna have t' tell me which wolf was murdered."

The dragon offered a wide, toothy grin, eye glimmering like a single golden doubloon.  He might know the answer Gent was looking for, but he was not about to trade such a tasty tidbit for nothing in return.  Why bother helping a man if he was not able to reap any reward?  He was no saint, not was he the priestly sort, handing out assistance freely as if it cost him nothing in return.  Only a fool did not realize everything had a price.  The one-eyed wonder did not figure the would-be king for a fool.

No, he was far too urbane, far too collected and calculating to be a fool.

What he was, now that remained to be seen.

But Kjors digressed.  He had a pretty good idea, which one might have ended up dead, but what was it to Gent?  They'd accused each other of age, but was one his father?  The silvery one had mentioned a missing daughter.  Not aware of the age, he supposed it was possible the shadowy male had been the ghost's mate…or mate-to-be.  An outdated practice, but who knew how the wolves of Round Stone Crest behaved?  But these were all private speculations, not to be shared until he had a proper reason for it.

Tipping his head, he studied the other for a moment longer.  "Ah know two old alphas when Ah see 'em, y'know.  Ah ain't interested in old wars, heh."  Only old powers, and what urged them on.  Whether they were still the leaders of their respective packs, he had no idea, but it was easy to distinguish the certain carriage a lord had – he traveled with it himself.  "Now, why ya so interested, huh?  Y'don't really look like th' crusadin' type."

(This post was last modified: Jun 09, 2015, 12:58 AM by Kjors.)

As the next sentence of Kjors' slipped from his muzzle, Gent understood: he hadn't actually seen anyone be killed. However, as the man continued his speaking, it was clear that he had seen something. And if it wasn't Tokino that was included as one those 'two old alphas,' Gent be damned. His mind instantly reeled to list the men it could have been; something in him highly doubted that Secret Woodlands was behind this one. Perhaps it was Koda, sent by Iopah to finish what she had started? Or bet yet, to further fan the flames? Or was it the Whisper Caverns patriarch, a man Gent did not know personally but was aware hated Minka and Tokino both?

Only further conversing with the wolf before him could possibly give him the answer. But why was the man so apparently reluctant to give him the information he needed? They had already been established as allies. Gent's eyes narrowed slightly as he further considered the wolf before him. There was no fear in his features, indicating that he was hiding the intelligence for his own sake. No, instead his single eye spoke nothing but finding mirth in situation. Gent then began to also understand, this man felt he had the upper hand because he possessed what Gent wanted.

"The murdered man was solid gray with blue eyes, and alpha of Black Thorn Downs. Minka's mate, as well as the father of her newborns."

This was all he said, in hopes that the rest would not need to be uttered; that it would be very unwise indeed for Kjors to withhold information about the murderer of his pack's ally's leader.

"Ah saw him," Kjors hummed, tipping his head to one side.  "Lookin' fer his daughter, actually.  Suppose he never did find her then, hm?  Wonder if she's dead, too."

It was all speculation, but Gent was being a right pain in the arse.  If he thought he was going to get something for nothing, he was barking up the wrong tree.  The dragon was a man of business and investments – a situation with nothing gained was not one he'd partake him.  Stretching himself out, the lanky timber wolf allowed the would-be king to stew for a few moments.  Let him brew knowing that his ally knew the answer to his problems, and he was not enough of a detective to get it out of him.

Arching his spine, the subordinate shook out his dark, earthy pelt before finally fixing a pale moon upon the shadow walker.  "Ah'm gonna explain this t'ya, 'cos yer either too stubborn 'er too dumb t' figure it out.  If y'wanna know wha' Ah know, yer gonna have t' give me somethin' in return.  Figure out wha's worthy m' time, an' Ah'll make it worth yers.  Got it?  'Cos Ah ain't a charity, kiddo.  Le's git somethin' straight, you an' me, Ah don' belong t' you.  Only Kisla."  Karina, something in his chest whispered treacherously.

"And th' River wolves.  So, make it worth m' time, 'er Ah'm headin' home."  Kjors reared his head back, all twinkle lost from the single star in his skull.  It was the game, but that did not guarantee fun or amusement for either participant.  If Gent wanted something, he was going to have to play, or go home hungry.

(This post was last modified: Jun 17, 2015, 09:21 PM by Kjors.)

There is a rabbit\'s nest nearby. +1 Health