Northstar Vale will you not yield to immortal gods?

For @Chusi.

His scar bleeds freely now, slowly, but staining his cheek nonetheless. It is an unfortunate mark to bear, but one he carries as a part of his identity, one that clearly distinguishes himself from everyone else, unfortunately. Where he roams, however, his identity is one that needs to be hidden, concealed from the eyes of his enemies. He knows this, but regardless, he throws caution to the wind and emerges from the dark woods he had once sought to free himself from. It seems silly in hindsight, that he had once rejected on principle the very thing that kept him alive, Blackfeather Woods. It had once seemed so dark, so volatile, and in truth it was, but he now sees it as his and his to protect along with all those within. That is the only reason he finds himself concerned for what he knows the Cerberus will bring upon him once more, that whatever they have planned will impact his family, his siblings and siblings yet to be. 

He pauses at the border that became the catalyst of it all, upon which he sought meaningless revenge that would prove to be more trouble than it was worth. He stands silently and ponders for a moment, would he have done it differently.... done it at all? He would not kid himself, of course he would. It was in his nature, despite the stupidity of it all. Ripping into Rannoch's neck was an experience one could not simply go without, and as reversing the event was beyond his ability, he didn't question the alternate possibilities of what could have occurred differently that day. Vaati was not, and is not, one to dwell on the decisions of the past, but he was not opposed to taunting the memories of it. And so he lingers on the borders he knows he is not welcome to, curious if the same druid who had initially insulted him was willing to show his face once again, now that this time, Vaati would stand inches taller and much bigger, much bolder and utterly merciless. 

Love had swept her off her feet, and she found herself humming a dangerously catchy tune as she made her daily rounds. While snippets of her former home still popped up inside her thoughts every now and then, her growing relationship with Mouse had saved her mentally. Arturo wouldn't miss her - not with his real babies around. Though she hadn't given it much thought before, their litter had been her replacement from the very start. Perhaps he had foreseen her lust for freedom and travels... Why hadn't he stopped her then? Did he still love her as the way he did when she was a mere ball of fluff?

Those thoughts disappeared when a rather handsome young man was standing aimlessly upon their borders. Chusi squinted, now recognizing the crimson liquid upon his face. Blood always made her feel kind of airy, though would it when she was the one having done the maiming? She had yet to see.

She lifted her muzzle, not knowing the young man before her had been the cause of most of her troubles, smiling her brightest smile. 'Ello? 'Why ya just standin' there? She questioned, inching closer at the other side of the border.

A woman greets him, but not yet a woman but a girl fresh out of childhood. She is young, like the others he met before her, recalling the druid and the other who had been just under or just above his age. It was not simply a coincidence then, this pack consisted solely of the young, both an advantage and a potential downfall. She poses her question with a hint of hesitance, and he turns to fully face her, not returning the beaming smile she shines in his direction. On his neck of the woods, such welcoming behavior is one that is rare, if not, suspicious. Or perhaps this simply was a pack as weak as those within made it out to be. If Rannoch had been the strongest of them all, Vaati believes silently that this will not be a pack to last the winter.

But he does not reply with aggression, only the undertone of severity, for it is a nature of his to appear much scarier than he actually intends; nevertheless, it keeps others away — for their own sake. He casually runs his tongue over his chops, swiping away what blood has trickled down from his wound, to his cheek and threatens to spill to the ground, potentially leaving what would be a trace of evidence that he was ever there. "I'm merely... landscaping," His explanation is simple, clearly a lie, but his expression reeks of a condescending amusement that does not take the question seriously. If not for the fact that he amassed her size clearly, perhaps she would have taken him to be a loner trickster at her borders, and in a way, he was. He smiles suddenly, quaintly in a way that makes it evident it is forced, "Do you know where I can find a certain large, burly, gray-scaled man... I believe he leads this pack?" Ah, now his motives are purely selfish humor. It is odd that this is the kind of thing that gets a kick out of him, but it does, a macabre sense of enlightenment stemmed only from the seeds of utter darkness implanted in his mind from the very beginning; the kind of humor that existed in Blackfeather alone. It was one of the many reasons they displayed the heads of their enemies on their own borders, for the sadistic irony of it all.

She observed him, taking note of his smell... What did it remind her of? Dark days, that's for sure. Though she didn't immediately associate the smell with those Blackfeather Fuckers, the thought crept up on her from behind and made her smile disappear. Had he been there? When their forest was deemed not safe enough anymore? How could this be? The youngest wolf she could remember was a girl not much younger than herself back then, speckled like the night sky. And those crazy eyes... She listened to the boy's explanation as to why he was barging around their territory, raising her tail when it seemed he was not about to be respectful towards her and her title.

His eyes though - bluer than clear water, more vibrant than those of Mouse - had stitched her mouth shut though. She blinked, unconsciously leaning closer to look at them more. Pretty... She murmured, just loud enough to be heard, but no blush rushed to her cheeks. He spooked her more than anything... He was a strange combination of danger and beauty, a force rather than a wolf, but she was not about to give in to such a man.

Rannoch? She questioned, brows raising in surprise. He's not here right now, 'm surry. 'Keepin' an eye on his pack 'til he returns. Her brows then knitted together in concern, not wanting to know why the silvery boy had come. If it is the fate of every Vale leader to be wounded, she'd rather flee back home right now. B-Blackfeather, right? How can I help ya?