Shadow Mountain lord snow

AW!

Lying beneath the crumbling arc of a squat mountain hollow, Rickon dreamed of snow. Obsessive thoughts of the impending winter had brought on this detail to his night terrors; details he would've rather kept undisturbed.

It was incredibly dark— the sky the same shade of glowing black as when an eclipse occurs. But there was no sun or moon to beget this. There were no clouds either, and yet snow fell with such a steady heaviness he was genuinely surprised everything before him wasn't bleached completely by the powder. Instead, he could see the trees of the gulch and the high rock walls that took him back instantly to his childhood. A river like a sidewinder smiled at him from his perch, and he marveled at its blinding shininess, unable to realize how strange it was that there was no snow covering its icy, sparkling face...

A cracking sound, as if his ribcage was being rent apart, woke him up. The first thing he noticed was that it was early afternoon, and unfortunately very bright. As the feeling returned slowly to his limbs, Rickon tried to push back the welling of sadness pooling into his throat like bile. But it was next to impossible to try and eradicate the significance of the frozen river to his psyche. He frowned deeply as his ability to emote returned, and slowly the dark wolf eked himself up into a sit, and peered out into the day with a pitiful feeling of dread.

She had wandered from her home. Not far, however, simply a little further down the range she had not fully explored. It would be poor form to live in her home ignorant of the surrounding territories, dangerous, even, in certain circumstances. And thus she had gone, traversing the mountain range with ease as her athletic form allowed. She had not fought in a true battle in many moons, and spars were sporadic. But now, in her new home, she would have to hone her skills, build herself back up to the fighting condition she had been in when she had left the Draconids. She was among them again, and would not slack off.

The scent of another drew her, distinctly male, and without a pack judging by the absence of other scents mingled with his. She followed it idly, and it was but a few moments before she came across him. She halted, surveying the dark male that sat a few yards from her. With a nod of her fine muzzle, brilliant green eyes scoring over him in a quick evaluation, the beautiful warrior watched him a moment longer before dipping her head. "Greetings" she intoned softly, voice lilting.

His vision blurred as he recalled the frozen river, trapped as he was in a painful vortex of unwanted memory— so he completely missed the habitation of another wolf, and flinched at the soft voice addressing him. Wide eyes snapped towards the female, his bewilderment ebbing as he took in her sharp, feminine features, and cool, assessing eyes. Rickon breathed, unaware he had been holding his breath. "H-Hey," he coaxed, trying to find his voice in the midst of his mental disarray. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. I was... reflecting," the dark yearling coughed, getting slowly to his feet and taking several careful steps out of the hovering gloom of the den mouth. He kept his distance from the she-wolf, despite being very eager for a disctraction.

"Name's Rickon. What's yours?"

The male seemed startled, taking a few moments to collect himself as he spoke, his words stuttered and disjointed. But she watched with nothing but a calm, amiable stance, a small smile on her features once his supposed inhostility was discovered. The dark male stood, moving away from the shadowy den mouth, and the surveyed him as she spoke, gaze calm yet piercing. He introduced himself as Rickon, and she assumed him to be freshly out of adolescence by his form. 

"You may call me Hisaya." she answered in the same lilting soft tone she had greeted him in, small smile proving her good intentions as she spoke, or so she hoped. "What seek you in the mountains, Rickon?" she asked. She herself had been merely wandering them before coming across the tribe, she wondered if he might be doing the same.

Her voice seemed the catalyze the graceful air her carriage exuded, and Rickon was fascinated by the aura. His own mother had been a flighty and neurotic sort, making it was a wonder he showed any gallantry at all. Although, to be fair, it wasn't until after the incident on the ice that he'd started showing any sort of bravery. And that was too late. That was the driving force of his nightmares— that he hadn't been brave when it counted. When he could have saved someone he loved.

He looked at Hisaya, comforted out of his vile reverie by her soothed demeanor. "Just lookin' for friends I haven't met yet, I guess," he smiled half-heartedly, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. "I'll need a pack before the end of fall, so I'm just scoutin', tryin' to win some hearts out here."

He spoke with casual nonchalance, perhaps due to his relative youthfulness, or so she guessed. his intention was to find a pack before autumn faded into winter, to find friends and packmates. she supposed that most lone wolves were, for autumn was but a ticking time bomb before winter set in with all it's unrelenting cruelty. the cold and merciless conditions culled many who dared brave it alone, this she knew. thus his goal was not uncommon, and she did hope that he should achieve it. 

"many here seek skills you may offer them," she said evenly, wondering if perhaps, should he prove different than the many other loners attempting to gain packs, she may take him back to Ryujin should he so wish. Asterr could judge him there, perhaps. "what have you to offer?" she asked, not unkindly, though her gaze suggested an amiable curiosity.

He had to listen with particular care to her sentences, not understand her phrasing on first impact. Most wolves from the Trench had a heavy southern accent, which was more his speed than her elegant speech. He eventually figured that she meant there were a lot of packs around that could find him useful to some degree. She confirmed his thoughts by asking what he had to offer as a wanna-be packwolf. "Well I'm not all that great a hunter, I'm just gonna be honest," he introduced, stupidly starting on a con before a pro. "But I'm great in a scrap, I'll tell you what. I could beat all my brothers in a fair and square fight."

as her speech was alien to him, his was at times to her. the word scrap bewildered her for a brief moment, however her confusion was quickly aliviated by his next words. he claimed skill in battle,  or at least a fight. this interested her, and her gaze did not stray from its curious look.  "perhaps you would care for a spar?" she said a moment after his words had faded, wondering if she would find a challenge in this male should he agree.

Rickon was a little taken aback by her question. Not that he'd never sparred with the women of his family before, he was just a little surprised this was what this particular female wanted to do. he certainly didn't seem like she enjoyed besting opponents by tooth and claw. "S-Sure!" he blurted, his tail lifting and swaying as he grew more used to the idea. "Should I.. take it easy on you?" he teased, dipping into a playbow so that she would be allowed the first move— although, underestimating her was a mistake on his part.

Did you want to do a dice roll for a definitive spar winner, or just wing it?