Grouse Thicket but we can overcome

Once the Nord had passed through the rolling hills along the isle and waded through the river once more, he jutted east to avoid the heavy markings of a nearby pack. The trek south would have had to wait until he felt he could safely pass without being caught by a territorial patrol. His mettle had been tested long before his arrival in the Teekon Wilds, but he was not actively seeking to reach the extent of his strength in a foolish approach at claimed land.
 
Beyond the babbling of the river, there was a thick forest. The chattering of grouse within the thicket was a sign that life could survive there. Kodlak did not move to go directly through, but to follow the outside of the woodland until it faded away. In the distance, he could see a great stretch of mountains that reached into the sky and stood as a dominating figure for him to keep his sights set on. The thicket stood as the only thing that blocked his field of vision for what was directly on the other side of it. As he always did, the Nord pushed onward and held fast to his direction.

It had been some time since she'd left the pack, having been too busy patrolling and occasionally learning more ptero from Towhee. She was getting a bit smoother at it, and trying to expand her vocabulary so that like the others, she could speak freely in ptero without having to stop and try to remember the signs for what she was trying to say. She followed the lake to where it dropped off the side of the plateau in a waterfall- affectionately nicknamed Tegan's Tears, apparently- and picked her way dwn the slope toward the area that she'd had the most success hunting grouse- even though she thought they were actually partridge. 

It made her a bit nostalgic, as that was where she'd met Screech...But at the same time, she was in a better place now. She felt close enough to the pack to feel secure, without actually being on or right next to the borders. She bristled slightly, though, when she caught scent of another wolf, but told herself that she had no right to tell him off, as he wasn't actually at the borders. She made her way into the thicket, hoping to nose out a grouse for a meal.

Kodlak knew that he would have to cut through some of the thicket in order to pass directly east. He wasn’t interested in drawing close to the borders of marked terrain. The Nord had not yet decided if he was willing to pledge himself to the ranks of another pack. His mind had trailed to Jorrvaskr; he missed his home. In his mind, nothing could match the jutting peaks and rocky stretch of mountain. The Harbinger was certain that he would never find another place where he felt as welcome.
 
Another scent cut through the copse; one the wind, Kodlak could tell that it belonged to a pledged wolf. Drawing his head upward, the Nord inhaled sharply. The pale sea colors in his gaze searched the brush for any signs of movement – of retreat or pursuit – but did not see a thing. In his year of travel, he had found that most packs south of Jorrvaskr had been filled with differences he wasn’t accustomed to. Open-minded, Kodlak only turned away from political standings. He was a warrior, after all, and he did not imagine there was an issue that could not be resolved by the sharpness of his fangs or the weight of his body.
 
Lowering his broad frame toward the earth, the Nord slipped into the thicket and was cloaked by shadow. Once in the brush, he could smell the grouse that nestled there. More so, the scent of the other wolf was stronger to him. He searched once more and did not see a figure to match the aroma, so the warrior pushed forward on careful steps.

Niamh's tail lashed back and forth when she caught the scent of grouse. They were one of her favourite birds to hunt- they were on the ground more than any other bird she knew, and took a few moments to lift their round bodies off the ground, allowing her time to dart in and catch them before they could get out of reach. The tall, blonde female had a good jump to her, as well, so that was always advantageous when hunting birds. There was never as much meat on a bird as there might be on a hare- given the fact that they needed to be light enough to fly- but they were tasty nonetheless. 

She could smell the male nearby, but she was more interested in snagging herself a meal. She crept forward, unknowingly taking a path paralell to the male, but she couldn't see through the thicket to know exactly where he was; other than that he was somewhere nearby. The grouse were near too, and she thought she'd pinpointed their location. Ears folding back, she crouched, and set herself up to pounce.

Once in the shadow of the thicket, Kodlak could feel the ground shift beneath him. Hircine was there and would aid him in his hunt. The grouse would provide for a decent meal and he would be able to trek further on. The other hunter had done well to keep themselves low and hidden, for the Nordic wolf did not see them in the nearby vicinity. Still, his sea-glossed eyes were set on the same feathered prize.
 
Pulling their scent and moving himself accordingly, Kodlak crouched low and his limbs became rigid in preparation for the spring that would follow. The warrior inched forward, barely making a sound against the thicket floor as he prowled. Not wishing to frighten the birds away, he held himself at a short distance until he had pinpointed a location for them. Only then did he move with determination; only then did he make an effort to close some of that space. His broad shoulders did not make for an agile fellow, but he was well versed in the ways of the hunt and he did not falter when met with the thick tangle of underbrush.
 
A well-aimed leap, and he would be in the thick of the hunt.  

Niamh inched forward, pausing when she heard the rustle of feathers or a soft note made by the birds. As of yet, she was unnoticed, which was perfect. With birds, tact had to be used- it was imperative that she get as close as possible, or the birds would take off before she could catch them. She squinted, doing her best to peer through the underbrush, and could just barely make out the colour of their dark tailfeathers through the bramble. Close enough, she thought; all she'd have to do now was leap, so she prepared herself, and with a quick wriggle of her haunches, she pounced. 

Niamh managed to hit the ground on the other side of the brush that had been blocking her view before the birds took off, but it was just before, in mid-air, that she caught sight of the other wolf. She was surprised, so she stumbled when she landed, and had to scramble to get her feet underneath herself in order to bound again, now that the birds had started taking off. It was a messy scramble, but she did her best.

A flicker of gold was all that was seen before a young female leapt through the brush and right before him. Kodlak reeled back a few steps, his coat alive in his surprise. Her footing had been lost upon landing, but she reacted quickly enough to regain a solid stance. The Nord held his ground, unmoving from where he stood, and watched her.
 
It did not take long for her to turn toward her intended target – the grouse – that had already started to flee in a panic. The element of surprise had been lost, but if she was swift in her action, she would likely find a mark against the feathered flesh of the bird. Kodlak, realizing that he had no ground there, did not make any effort to beat her to the punch. Instead, the Nord watched her with an expectant twinkle in his sea-swell gaze. There were no signs of malice or ill intent. It was only a calculated stare that met her scramble for food.

Gritting her teeth, Niamh flattened her ears and jolted toward the birds just as they began to take off. Feathers were dropped in a hurry as the birds scurried for freedom and while all she could do was hope that the male just beyond the bushes didn't try to intervene or take her out, she turned her concentration back on the birds and shut him out. The last one to take off was the one she chose, and after gathering herself, she leapt into the air, snatching the bird by one of its wings and dragging it back down to the ground. She shook it hastily, not wanting it to have the option to fly if it got away from her, before she dropped it and finished what she'd started. 

The bird still hanging from her jaws, she wasted no time wheeling on her haunches to stare back toward the male, backing away with a slight growl before she even caught sight of him. As soon as she saw that his lips proclaimed no devil, she quieted her growl, turned her head and dropped the grouse by her flank, and regarded him levelly. "Sorry dude. Early wolf gets the bird." She said. Normally, she wasn't so rude- but this was a stranger, and a male, and he looked like he could take her on easily- so all she could do to keep the bird to herself was put on a brave front and if he did challenge her- then all she could do was hope she could outrun him.

“Dude.”
 
Kodlak repeated the word in a baritone that had been delicately laced with confusion. It did not take long before a smile cracked through the harsh grit of his features and he chuckled in a booming tone at the moniker she had afforded him. The Nord had been called many things, but he had not once heard the term dude used in reference to himself. Understanding that the culture of others was vastly different to his own, Kodlak had accepted her terminology and found it pleasurable enough to warrant a laugh.
 
“That was a fine catch, shield maiden. You are swift on your feet and quick with your fangs,” he praised with a curt bow of his head. Though he had been hungry enough to search the thicket for food, he was not bothered that another had bested him in catching the same target. It was not his place to raise his arms over the blood of a simple bird among the boughs.

One of Niamh's butterscotch ears flicked backward when he repeated the name she'd called him. All she expected next was for him to get all condescending, get all bristly because she'd called him 'dude' and had caught the bird he'd had his eyes on, and try to take it from her, so she remained where she was, slightly on guard. Instead, though, he laughed- and it took Niamh a minute to figure out whether the laugh was meant in a sinister fashion, or if he was actually tickled that she'd called him 'dude.' The idea was actually quite laughable- of all things, he certainly did not look like a 'dude.' There was a wildness about him, swimming in his eyes and clinging to the thick, bristly coat he sported that looked like it had protected him from just about everything. This guy wasn't some pampered pup; he'd lived. 

Just as she'd tickled him with her nickname, the one he gave her caused her to snort and giggle. "Shield maiden?" She asked, wondering if he'd called her that merely as revenge for calling him something as silly as 'dude.' "Never heard that one before." She confessed. "But, uh, thanks? And birds...Birds are sort of a specialty of mine." She said, gesturing briefly to the one that lay on the ground by her feet. "Like the taste of them, and love the feathers."

It seemed as though his culture was even more foreign to them than he had first imagined. The russet woman on the beach had been gracious enough, but she had still carried a watchful, stiffness about her. The Nord did not know if it was that he made them uncomfortable, or if their lands were full of wrongdoings.
 
The Harbinger had traveled a great distance from his home in Jorrvaskr, and he had endured the likes of many different cultures. It never ceased to amaze him that there were so many different walks of life within the world. He had imagined that he could search through his entire lifetime and not find two that were alike in mentality. Of course, the Nord did not wish to burden them with his own thundering convention. Kodlak was a guest to their terrain, and he knew how to reverently treat the sacred ground of another’s hunt.
 
The golden female remarked that she had never heard the term ‘shield maiden’ before. The Nord offered her an apologetic expression and lowered his skull. “Ah, forgive me. This is a term from my homeland, the Jorrvaskr wolves were all shield brothers, or sisters where I hail from,” he explained to her, hoping that she had not taken offense. The laugh she had offered did allow the dusty warrior to feel more at ease with himself. “This is merely a Nord’s way of admiring the strength in another. Where I am from, it is far more difficult to catch birds of flight,” the Wuuthrad then rumbled.

There was something very fomal and courteous about this dude- that didn't make the term fit him at all. He was certainly very polite and well spoklen, she decided, and likely came from a very different upbringing than the one she'd come from where the pups mostly just ran wild, doing as they pleased as long as they harmed no one and eventually learned how to hunt and guard. She suspected the pups where this guy came from were probably schooled a bit more- or, at least, they were when they started to reach adulthood. He was obviously well trained in manners, so it stood to reason that he'd be well trained in general. 

"Jorrvaskr? Nord?" She asked, testing out the words he'd used. "How far away are you from? And what's it called?" She wondered, wanting to find out a bit more about these strangely knightly wolves who apparently also shared an affinity for hunting birds.

The golden huntress returned with curiosity. She repeated the name of his homeland back to him, as well as his identification. The Nordic blood was his own, but he did not anticipate the wolves from the Teekon Wilds culture to understand, or to find interest in where he had come from. It was kind of her to demonstrate such polite queries, and Kodlak offered her an assuring smile.
 
“Jorrvaskr,” he repeated the name of his homeland with a proud bowing of his skull. “It is far to the frozen northern reaches of the globe. Rolling hills of snow and ice, large white bears that can swim better than any wolf I’ve seen, and lights that dance overhead in the sky,” he described in a tone that was – more than anything – reverent. To speak of Jorrvaskr was to know it in the depths of his bones; the frigid north was just as much a part of him as his dusted brown pelt, or the glittering of his sea foam eyes. The Nord could have spoken about the beauty of his homeland for hours, but he was fearful of being rude to his present companion. He peered at her with a questioning stare and cocked his head ever so to the left.
 
“Do you hail from the land we stand on?”

There was something almost enchanting about the male, and the way he talked so lovingly about the lands where he came from. She could picture white bears swimming, even though it sounded very strange- bears that could swim better than wolves? Why would a bear ever need to swim better than a wolf? She wondered that for a moment, until she tried to picture a landscape covered in snow- dropping off to a cold and frigid sea. It made sense, then- waters that might be too cold for a wolf would still probably suit a bear. As for the lights that danced in the sky, she tried to picture it- glancing up to the sky even though she wasn't aware of it- but fell far short. Of course, it wasn't mentioned that the lights that danced in the sky did so at night- but even in daytime, what Niamh pictured was beautiful. 

She had almost drifted off into a beautiful daydream, lulled by the gentle tones of his deep voice, when he asked her about where she was from. She was jarred back into reality, and how dull and boring it was where she lived. "Oh, yeah. Not like...Right around here- probably like two months' travel from here, at a leisurely pace, but it's pretty much all the same stuff. Trees, birds, lakes and things." Why couldn't she talk as pretty as he did? "Can you like...Tell me more about your homeland? It just sounds...Beautiful." She said, sitting down then, hoping he might keep talking the way he just had. It was a treat, like listening to a storyteller spin a tale for a pup. It didn't hurt, at all, that the male was also easy on the eyes- there was something about his expression and the way the colour of his eyes seemed to change with the light, the way water would move under a different sun.

It had seemed that once the Nord had returned with inquiries of her homeland, the sandy female responded with a quick rambling. Kodlak attempted to collect the pieces of information that she had afforded him with slow-cupping ears. The manner in which she spoke was so different from what he had known for most of his life. He found himself drawn to the descriptive words that were used and the way she seemed to cast aside her home with a nonchalance that bordered callous detachment. Though he had seen the great stretch of a mountain peak many times before, it never felt as though it were an old sight. He was still capable of marveling at his earthly house, even after having witnessed her harshness more than a dozen times.
 
“I would be honored to speak more of my homeland to you. Before I do, please… may I request your name?” the great dusted Nord warrior requested. There seemed to be a bashfulness that had overtaken him. Across most of his travels, a calling had been so freely and openly granted. It was a rare chance that he had to request it from his company. Should she deny him, he would have simply granted her wish and wove a tale of wonder and glory from the tundra of his home. Kodlak had always been taught to value his conversation with others; he had so much to learn from the outside world, after all.

This guy was super polite- something she wasn't quite used to, living with the Redhawks. Sure they had manners- but sarcasm and humour often seemed to take prevalence over formality with her packmates, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It simply meant that she fit in with them better- she'd have to check herself continuously if the pack was full of wolves as formal as Kodlak- but that was probably just part of growing up and treating strangers with respect...Two things Niamh had yet to do and master. She was slightly alarmed when he asked for her name- hadn't she told him already? When she thought about it for half a second, she realized she hadn't. It wasn't something out of the ordinary for her to talk away at a stranger without introducing herself, but this time she felt a bit embarassed. 

"Sorry," She said, giving him an apologetic smile. She drew herself up, then, front feet together and legs straight, and bowed her head to him, ears slicked back. "I'm Niamh DeMonte-Argyle, and I belong to the Redhawks pack." She said. She lifted her head and flicked her ears forward, giving him a friendly, winning smile. "It's nice to meet you...?" She said, trailing off when she realized she didn't exactly know who he was, either, other than the fact that he was from some really interesting, snowy place far, far away.

The sandy huntress apologized for her lack of a calling. Kodlak did not feel the atonement to be a necessary offering, and so he bowed his head empathetically and granted her a sweet smile. It was as though his dusty features were lifted for a moment and he was shed in a more forgiving light. Though he was cut and jagged, comprised of rippling muscles and broad shoulders, he did not wish her to feel embarrassed for not having met his way of life, or for having left out her name upon meeting him. The Nord merely wished to know more about the sweet golden-eyed maiden he was speaking to. It did not do well to easily let others slip past him. He was more invested in the conversation that was shared.
 
“Ah, Niamh,” he tested her moniker on his own tongue and found it moderately challenging. Sheepishly, his cheeks flushed, and he dipped his muzzle to her out of respect. “I am Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions and Wuuthrad to the great tundra Jorrvaskr.” It was then that he offered her a proud bowing of his torso. Then, realizing that their location was not ideal for tales of his homeland, the Nord fixed her with an expression of curiosity. “Perhaps, we could step further from the tangle and find a place of more comfort?”

Kodlak Whitemane. She almost shuddered when he spoke his name, and gave him a warm, somewhat girlish smile when he bowed to her. Compared to the way that Tegan and Screech treated her, this was certainly a change- and a welcome one. She didn't quite know how to respond, or how to act in a way that might flatter him too, but she was young, yet, to try such things. When he suggested they find a better place to talk, she felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn't understand why. She personally didn't think the thicket was a bad place to talk- but he likely knew best- he seemed like the kind of wolf who just knew what to do. 

"Lead the way," she chimed quietly. She wasn't sure exactly what they were looking for, with regards to finding a better place to talk. Niamh could chat the arse off a stranger no matter where she was.

Was thinking we could have a new thread in Golden Glade? I'm happy to start it after you get a final reply in for this one. :]

There was a moment of fleeting surprise that had etched itself across her sandy blonde features. Kodlak worried that he had suggested too much – to travel from where they were and move to a new location – and that his companion would have been more comfortable to simply stay put. There was something disquieting about the brambles and the tight quarters of the thicket. The Nord felt more at home when he was closer to the skies than to the brush of the earth. In confined spaces, he found himself feeling small and insignificant. Though he knew himself to be a brutal warrior of the northern wastes, he could not always find comfort in the close-knit trees.
 
Niamh offered for him to lead and Kodlak graciously accepted with a polite smile and a swinging of his skull toward their next mark. Out beyond the tight tangle of underbrush was a glade that seemed as though it boasted a fair bit of shade and level of opulence that the thicket was lacking. Kodlak believed this would suit as a more fitting setting for tales of frozen adventures and daring feats belonging only to the frigid north.

Sure- just as long as nothing life-changing happens in that thread, haha, because it's so outdated. BUT it'd be nice for them to have some storytime <3

The Whitemane Knight- as she'd decided she'd call him in her mind- led the way, and she wondered if he already had a place picked out for them to go and talk. Wordlessly, she followed, trailing behind just a step so that her shoulder lined up with his flank. She noticed, then, just the sheer size and strength of him- and though Niamh was a tall wolf, she didn't tower awkwardly over him, as she did many other wolves. There was a wildness about him that spoke of a life lived in a place where survival was much more difficult, but a mildness that spoke of a solid upbringing. She couldn't wait to hear more about the world that Kodlak came from.