Northstar Vale macaroni art

Refering to this thread. Anyone can join/be the wolf he speaks to at the end.

There were a lot of things that Dag liked about Saena. Her flighty nature was one of them, even though it caused the pack no little amount of worry. He'd come to the sound of raised voices and thought - for a frightening instant - that it'd been Warbone to wreck such havoc on the first female's body. But the reality of the situation had quickly dawned on the boy, and he'd gone away dilligently at the first male's request. To hunt for their alpha female.

The others were around, sweeping through the grass and trees nearest to them just as he was. A fresh layer of snow hid all outward apperances of life, but Dag's keen nose could detect things underneath the white powder.

Here and there, the young male stopped to scrabble at the dirt, seeming aimless in his attempts for the cloudy look on his face. He was worried for Saena; for already, the boy loved her fiercely. He wanted her to get better fast, so that she could keep being the Saena he believed her to be - strong, and invincible - instead of the Saena he sometimes feared she might become. (Restless, uncertain, gone.)

There was a vain hope in his heart that, if they could be good enough for her, to her, she would be forced to stay for her affection toward them. He was angry with Warbone for being mean to her, worried that she would not want to stay if he continued to do so - 

Dag pounced, nose spearing into the snow empty-jawed only to come up with a shrieking field mouse in his jaws. It was not much, but Dag took it anyway, crunching down once to end its fear. Limb body in his mouth, the male turned back toward his firsts, planning to leave the vole where @Saena would find it. He rubbed his cheek against it so that she would know by his scent that it was from him, and that he wished her well.

Turning away, he rejoined his packmates on the search for food, turning to the nearest one to ask: "Had any luck?"

Throws Tryphon at you! Hope you're OK with a boy thats totally out of the loop, because I am too.

It was snowing in the vale.

The flurries had been mostly slush at first, which was perhaps why the presence of flakes did not register in the boy's mind at first. But now, week later, there was a layer of frost on every inch of everything. The grass looked like it was dusted with tiny knives; beautiful, harmless, but sharp and strange. Tryphon spent most of his first few days of adaptation studying the surroundings — watching the ground, perusing the paths, keeping a watchful eye out for danger but inevitably, being overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

So when the snow really began in earnest, Tryphon couldn't help but feel elated, and distracted. He did not know of the recent tumult between Saena and Warbone, not for a few hours at least. Tryphon was busy staring skyward while wandering on the fringe of the pack's current occupied space, feeling the bits of ice landing upon his snout or tasting flecks upon his tongue.

There was something familiar about the cold. The wet. The way the bits melted, tasted. Oddly, he felt most at peace in this place, while the snow was falling.

Then there was a presence that broke his concentration: a beast he had probably met, but not someone he knew well. The stranger (more or less) came upon Tryphon and murmured something which made his ears turn, and his face to furrow with some confusion.

Had any luck? Queried the male, who inadvertently herded Tryphon back towards the collective. Tryphon sniffed softly (his nose was running more than usual), and softly parried, With?

With? Dag cast his mind about and eventually determined that he had not seen Tryphon among those gathered around the warring Firsts. So he didn't know, then. Not one to gossip, Dag thought for a beat.

"Saena was injured; Warbone said we should hunt for her," he explained, ears flickering as he thought of the vole. "I caught a vole, but I think she'll want more."

The remains of the deer

(I don't even know if they caught that yet, tbh)

were picked mostly clean, and Dag knew that mom Saena would benefit most from fresh, bloody meat. He was capable of getting that on his own, slowly but surely, but somehow, a raccoon or a wild turkey seemed like a better offering than a pile of mice. "I saw some wild turkeys a few meadows over when we came this way," Dag said, wondering if it would be smart to go that far from the group.

Saena hurt? As the words passed his lips, Tryphon felt the heat of his blood seemingly run cold within his veins. His eyes widened in surprise to his news, but then squinted with concern, having lost all of his interest in the weather.

If she was in need, they would provide. They were pack.

The boy was quick to agree. Turkeys -- yes, okay. He nodded, although according to his memory he had never before encountered such a creature. He did not mention this, choosing instead to hide his ignorance (his inadequacy) in favor of getting straight to work.

He branched away from the gathering but kept his wits trained upon Dagfinn. A few paces later, he trudged to a stop and canted his head towards the darker wolf, expecting him to lead the way.

The youth was torn. He wanted to provide for Saena, obviously, and to please Warbone with his compliance - but it went against his instincts to leave the pack unattended, even for the hour it would take them to get there and back again with a turkey in tow. They were a member down - an important member - and they had to protect her.

But the rest of the pack could do that; Warbone could do that.

So Dag led the way, content to walk in silence for this time. If he'd known of Tryphon's inexperience with turkeys, he would've filled the trip with advice for hunting them - he'd only done so during his brief journey with Amber and Grayday, and it'd surprised him how easily they'd been able to fly. His first encounter with them had not been a successful one, and Day had given him a baleful stare at the end of that hunt.

Soon enough, they'd reached the mixed forest and small clearings where Dag had last seen the rafter of turkeys. Their scent was still in the area, but as of yet, there were no birds in sight. "Let's go for a hen - there were ten last time I saw them," he suggested, speaking softly so as not to frighten their prey.

The silence was comfortable for Tryphon, who had lived for an excessive number of days without ever speaking a word, or uttering any sound at all. It was the constant desire of others to fill those quiet gaps that made him uncomfortable. Thus, it was easy for him to fall in to step behind Dagfinn — substantially more difficult once the hunting began, and Dagfinn started the lesson.

That's sort-of what it was, now. A lesson. Teaching the boy about the birds, while in a way Tryphon was teaching the other man about how to feel comfortable in this new environment. Tryphon wasn't entirely aware of the unease within Dagfinn as they made their departure, but there was a distinct shift in his behavior as they settled among the grasses of the meadow.

When Dagfinn mentioned the hens, Tryphon gave another small nod. In his mind he pictured something akin to a starling, or maybe a crow, a gull — a tiny bird up to a middling sized creature — and he wondered as he searched just what have I signed up for?

It did not take long for the soft booming and warbling of wild turkeys reached Dagfinn's ears. "Over here," he said to Tryphon, gesturing toward the sound before slinking through the underbrush, silent so as not to frighten their prey. Very soon, Dag could see them through the thick of the trees - only four hens, in this rafter, but knowing there were more in the area made Dag less wary of picking one off.

"That one closest to us looks fat enough," he said under his breath, assuming that Tryphon was near enough to detect the soft sound of his voice. "If I go around from the side, do you think you can snatch it before it gets in the air?"

He followed as quietly and quickly as he could, matching his companion's speed until they were prompted to slow down, then to hide, as birds came in to view. They looked... Stupid. Tryphon almost couldn't see where their heads were, as their bodies were so rotund and their colors were so demure. They looked like walking beehives; instead of buzzing, they squabbled amongst themselves.

With the urging of Dagfinn in his ears, and a plan laid out, Tryphon nodded hastily and repositioned himself in preparation for the attack. A part of him felt anxious, for this was his first turkey hunt. Another part, noticing by now that Dagfinn was at least a year younger than himself, felt equal parts embarassed and eager; if he failed he would surely feel the sting of the defeat deep within his already fragile ego. It seemed to Tryphon that his age should denote some level of skill — but he doubted himself, and was likely as skilled as any awkward yearling, which was a crippling thought.

All the same, Tryphon looked to where Dagfinn had situated himself and then turned his attention back to the birds, ready to spring.

Dagfinn shared Tryphon's opinion on their looks - and, having seen them in action, he would have thought they were stupid even if they'd looked like sleek, clawed eagles. Still, stupid didn't mean they weren't able to escape, and Dag hoped that Tryphon would be able to snatch one up before they all took to the trees.

He slunk through the underbrush and rounded the rafter, watching Tryphon out of the corner of his eyes even as he focused his attention on the birds. Mainly, he eyed the one he had singled out, hoping it would not move to a less convenient position before he had the chance to spring.

When he was finally in position, the dark male mey Tryphon's eyes one more time before surging forward, running his hardest to try and get to the turkey before it could take flight. There was a good chance he wouldn't make it, but that was why Tryphon was there with him.

Roll here: ( 5 ) Even is success... and looool.

There wasn't much Tryphon could do aside from take orders, and he did so silently. There were plenty of lessons to be had here, and while the boy wasn't so keen on learning new things at this moment in his life, he was eager to be of use and justafiably afraid of screwing up. He read the subtle messages that Dagfinn gave out - beyond the mere shift of his eyes, there was a myriad of signals for Tryphon to translate. 

When his hunting partner was situated in a comfortable place, they locked gazes with one another, and Tryphon knew the moment would be coming quickly. He could not fail in this venture. He would not. This was a chance to prove to himself that he wasn't a lost cause (even if it was just a simple task, and versus a simple-minded creature). Dagfinn shot away from his mark, and Tryphon braced for the reaction of the gang.

The birds reacted to the dark assailant in a way that both wolves could easily anticipate: they bolted. A few threw up their wings as if to fly, some ran for cover, and all of them made a chorus of chaotic shrieks. The boy had been waiting for his opportune moment and was so focused on not screwing up that he did what many inexperienced children do: exactly what he dreaded. He was a half-second too slow as he charged after them; a hair's breath away from connecting a single tooth to the noodle neck of a hen; in the cacophony Tryphon couldn't focus on a single bird on its own, and so they fled in to the wilderness with a few less feathers, but with their lives intact.

Tryphon was left wide-eyed and thunder-hearted, a flurry of downy feathers caught on the bitter breath of winter.

Wanna close after this? We can assume they found something later XD

Dag watched with bright, wide eyes as the birds all scattered. The one they'd been after had been so close to dying by Tryphon's teeth, but it was no use. Turkeys were wily creatures.

"Almost!" he exclaimed, tail wagging as he returned to Tryphon's side, snapping at feathers as he came. "It's hard to believe they're really birds until they actually fly."

He looked after the disappeared meals with a wistful expression, thinking of how impressed mom Saena would have been with a big, fat turkey to eat. And a pile of feathers to play in! But it just wasn't to be.

"We should head back toward the pack," Dag sighed, turning in the direction they'd come. "We'll just have to get her a whole pile of field mice. Or maybe we can catch that raccoon that's been hanging around later tonight."

Tail still waving distractedly behind him, Dag began trotting back toward the pack.

Sounds good!

As Tryphon spat some fresh feathers out of his mouth and watched them fall to the wet ground below, he felt the adrenaline begin to fade, and with it went his happiness. He was heartbroken. Maybe if he'd been clear about his lack of practice things would have been different? Or maybe they could've tried for something else. As things stood now, Tryphon was quite distracted by this failure. 

Dagfinn didn't seem to phased, but maybe that was just his way of coping with the loss of the turkeys. Maybe he just didn't want Tryphon to feel bad? That made him feel worse; and on and on his thoughts went, digging a proverbial hole for him to crawl in to. With a murmured response to the other boy's comments, Tryphon turned away from the piles of feathers and began to pace back through the territory. He wasn't so happy to be hunting now, but would try again later at the first opportunity — he needed to be better than this.