Qeya River "if only, if only," the woodpecker sighs

sorry for the short/crap post. I was half asleep >_> @Denali

Since her return to Sleeping Dragon from the coast, she'd spent little time outside the borders. The closest she'd come was with the new joiner, one with similar beliefs of Gyda, just outside her claim. Leaving the territory for a few hours, once making sure Dio was near Gyda to guard, she travels down the length of the river until it pools into a lake. It meets part of the ridge, but otherwise surrounded by trees and tucked away from view. The small body of water is peaceful this day and the inky leader drops her head for a drink of cool water.

Thuringwethil licks her lips slowly, removing traces of water from her muzzle, and glances back down to the lake. She can't see below the surface, but the wonder of whether or not anything is below lingers. She'd never been much of a fisher, but some had come and gone, and the skills of her current hunters are largely unknown in the face of a famine. With a sigh escaping her, she shifts until she's parallel with the bank and begins her trek home.

As the days went on, Denali was sinking further and further into depression. The prey was beginning to return to Teekon, true, but he had not found the connections he had sought upon his arrival here. The young wolf-dog was sullen, listless, plus he was beginning to become ribby due to the lack of food over the past weeks.

He contemplated death, some nights. A slip of paws on a cliff. . .

Per usual, he was traveling, exploring the lands outside Seadog's meager territory. He found himself close to the volcano, trotting alongside the river, and a voice entered his mind--"You were lucky not to cross paths with my warriors." Denali was quite close to that dark female's lands, yet he realized he cared not. Let said warriors rip him apart.

As if conjured by his thoughts, a black-furred form came into view, and a corner of his mouth curled in wry amusement. Here was that queen of the volcano, walking next to the shore of a lake. He sat on his haunches and stared at her, not bothering to call out, just watching. Perhaps she would come to him. Perhaps she would kill him. Ha.

Before she gets too far, a still figure in the distance catches her attention. A mix of scent wafting in her direction as well as the silhouette in her peripheral vision, and at first she doesn't show her notice. Several yards she walks, but this time with no particular goal in mind. It's familiar enough to keep her rooted to the lake for a little while longer, if not to show the foolish wolf a direct way back home. Eventually the distance between them decreases and she slowly turns her gaze to look at him without any hint of surprise.

Thuringwethil slows to a stop several yards away and lingers, watching him for a moment. He'd been an odd wolf back in the maplewood but she realizes his name slips from her mind, if she'd even been told in the first place. Eventually, she diverts her aimless walk to get to him and her posture is no less important than if she were at her own borders. No matter where Heda stands, she is still Heda, and that would not change until the last breath escapes her body.

His scent this time caught her interest and she's vaguely reminded of the dark wolves trying to settle. Had she noted that last time? Slate eyes narrow and she reduces the space between them so she's at least able to speak, but enough distance that his lack of importance to her is obvious.

The still-nameless female approached him silently, and he took the time to observe her more closely. The almost-gaunt frame fooled him not; she was a warrior, lithe and quick, and her eyes were gray, steely--they had seen much bloodshed. Not only a warrior, but a leader. She walked like a queen.

Denali continued to smirk as she approached, though softened his features a bit to give this woman the respect she was due. "What a surprise to see you again," he began, though it was a lie--how could he be surprised to see her, and he so close to the volcano? Still, he hoped it initiated a conversation; he would at least like to put a name to this fierce face.

Even if there is something about him that holds her interest, despite the stench of a pack he bores—however, something is missing to the scent that she can’t quite place—she keeps her distance. She doesn’t move should he want to get closer, but extending her own invitation remains reserved. Thuringwethil watches him, eyes glued to his form, and as he offers her a submission, however small, her chest puffs up accordingly. A subtle action for the small victory.

There’s a slight curl to her lip, showing her teeth for a brief moment, as he speaks. He already knows where she resides, stating he’d passed by once before, and now here he stands, at the lake below her mountain. It isn’t a farfetched idea that she might be here, scouting her territories nearby, and so with a quiet flick of her tongue, she offers an, “is it?”

Is it? Her voice was feminine yet husky, a rough-edged sweet tone that escaped her lips and nearly transfixed Denali on the spot. He smiled at her question, though, closing his eyes and shaking his head in response. "Well." He backtracked a little, knowing his jesting lie had been found out. "It's been a while since I saw you last. I didn't think I would again."

She was fierce. He had noticed all her subtle movements--her chest puffing at his submission, her teeth baring slightly in reaction to his opening line. She carried herself like a woman who knew well her lofty stature in the world.

"I never introduced myself, before," he continued, opening his blue eyes again. "I am Denali, of the pack called Seadog Sanctuary." With any luck, the warrior queen would give him her name as well.

His reasoning is not farfetched, she supposed—she hadn’t much thought of him since their time together—and so she shrugs one shoulder. She’d warned him from getting too close and, so far, he’d taken the advice. The river isn’t terribly close but any more so and she might be suspicious, but his proximity has struck something in her that pulls her close a few feet. Her posture remains, but her features fall stoic as he ultimately introduces himself.

“Heda Thuringwethil,” she tells him, “of Sleeping Dragon.”

She glances up the ridge, where she can only see the tip of her mountain, but nonetheless he knows where it is.

“Did your leaders tell you of our history?” she questions then with a tilt of her head, finally able to put a name to the wolves on the ravine. Thuringwethil has made sure her own wolves knew to avoid the marsh and above after once driving them away for being too close, that she also expects the same. His closeness to her mountain, however, makes her believe that he might not know—or he’s a little too daring for his own good.

"Thuringwethil." Quite the name. He pronounced it slowly, hesitantly, then added, "Heda Thuringwethil." Heda must be her title; Denali thought it could be equivalent to the standard alpha or, in some cases he had encountered, chief or chieftess.

She asked him if his leaders had taught him of her pack's history, and he stifled a scornful laugh, biting the inside of his cheek and merely shaking his head in response. "My leader has told me nothing," he responded, unable to keep a faint acidic note from his tone. There was no love lost between himself and Sen. "She has bigger fish to fry right now."

Anyway, what could the history of Thur--Thurin--oh, fuck it, he already couldn't pronounce her name. What could the history of this she-wolf's pack have anything to do with his current situation? Did her group have a problem with Seadog and its members? And if so, what was it?

He tests the name upon his tongue and he does well, given it's something of a mouthful. Most of her own would call her Heda, absorbing the title into her name. Only a few would call her by her given name, and even less a shortened version. Gyda had her own and Wildfire—the thought causes a sudden pang in her chest—uses another. She takes a deep breath to shake the feeling as Denali further explains his ignorance.

"What do you mean?" she questions, noting the use of she and only she. What of the male? Neither names she can recall, if they'd been given at all, but her curiosity remains the same.

His mouth twisted in indecision as he pondered how to respond to her question. To give away too little could come off as rude; too much, and he could be giving away pack secrets. Nevertheless, he finally settled on a middling explanation, saying, "She gave birth to pups a few weeks ago, so she's busy with them, naturally."

He continued on to ask the question he had forgotten to ask before. "So what is your history, if I might ask?" Denali kept his tone blandly neutral, seeking nothing but an answer from the dark-furred. . .what had she called herself? Oh, right, Heda.

"Ah," is all she says in regards to the children. Still, there is no mention of the other wolf that led alongside her. Still, Thuringwethil doesn't bring it up as she considers how busy one might be with children. Gyda is on the cusp of giving birth and snd already takes care of most things that when the children come, she doubts she'd be doing much more already.

He asks about their history and with indifference, she shrugs one shoulder. It had caused enough tension, despite how short their interactions were.

"They tried to settle too close next to me," she begins, easily remembering the day. A lot has changed since then, a whole new set of wolves beneath her, but Thuringwethil feels confident in those she has now, especially since a range of Seageda wolves had followed. "We sent them on their way. The male had been understanding, but the female had a little more to say. I then stumbled close to their territory a while ago and since then, nothing else, except for you and one other I had met," she adds but by this time, she's already forgotten the seadog's name.

She was battle-tested, then. He had known it from the first. We sent them on their way. It was a concise summary of what likely had been a bloody conflict between Thuringwethil's wolves and the upstarts who had come too close.

"I see," Denali responded, his tone neutral. He glanced around him, relaxing his brawny shoulders even further to demonstrate he meant no harm. "Well, you needn't worry about me. I bring no army."

Seadog would be ripped to shreds by this female's pack, he was sure of it. It sent him into nearly-debilitating thoughts of regret--had he made the wrong decision by joining the scrappy sea wolves, rather than banding together with Thuringwethil and her group?

 

Sorry for the short and crappy post

only if you excuse my even worse one!

Thuringwethil snorts at the mention of an army. From what she's seen of the sanctuary had been minimal and any army they had, she's sure she'd already be aware of. However, even if Denali meant it as reassurance, she took little part in that comfort. The wolves from the ravine mean little her, and far less of a threat than she'd give them the time of day for.

"And yet, you're way out here anyway," she observes. Not close enough to her home to be a problem, but far enough away from his home to make her curious. With detachment in his voice, it makes her wonder why he'd stray so much; enough that she's run in to him twice. Thuringwethil doesn't allow herself to find out, flashing him a smile as she continues on her way back down the bank.

He resisted the urge to let his temper flare up at her snort. It was true enough that Seadog was a weak group--yet her scoff seemed, at least to him, personally aimed at Denali himself. But there he went again... Blowing things out of proportion.

Instead, he responded, his voice cool. "I wander." Anger rose in him once more as he realized Thuringwethil had not even bothered to wait for the answer; the black female was padding away before he had opened his mouth to speak. Disappointment, bitter as bile, was thick in his throat. "We will meet again," he whispered to her retreating form, voice adamant.

They kept meeting. It was more than mere coincidence. He was meant to stumble across this leader, this volcano Heda. For a moment, he considered following her--but shook off the thought as quickly as it had occurred. To follow Thuringwethil into her territory would mean certain death.

So he turned and began to pad back to Firefly Ravine. But not before one last glance back at the wolf who intrigued him so greatly.