Big Salmon Lake northern soul

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With word of the Woods taking a captive, Hydra felt all the more anxious on behalf of Rian. He had been hunting for Cypress, which she knew, and though she had thought him capable she could not help but feel as though now he had been gone for too long. She could find one way to justify it, and one way alone—would he disappear without a trace after her confession to him otherwise? No, she vainly believed he could not.

Hydra struck out of Moonspear with the intent to scout the Lake. She sensed an impending snow storm and wanted this mission to be a swift one. @Lyra and @Alya struck out with her, though her sisters kept closer to Bramblepoint as she drew toward the large lake. Her snout grazed the earth as she looked for any signs of struggle or a skirmish. Of course, if he was taken by the wolves of the Woods, they might have had him for a while. Her tail lashed behind her as she contemplated what the Caldera wolves were deciding.

Already Hydra knew she wished to assist, if only to see if Rian was stolen by them.

:D

Quixote curled his path back towards the lake he had visited... Oh, it was not too long ago but damned if he kept track of the dates other than to note that it was getting colder.  He had maybe a month to work out something unless it was a warm winter.  No rush.  Yet.  Or at least that would be what he'd keep telling himself.

He wanted to try fishing a bit more before the lakes became walkable, and that was his reason for heading that way today.  Quixote was feeling a bit more comfortable with the world in general, even if wolves here didn't always act the way he was expecting them to.  Things, from his limited experience, seemed rather paradisaical, but if he knew what was rippling beneath the surface of some of the packs, he'd realize that this place was no different -- it was just better at hiding conflict.

His footsteps took him perpendicular to the trail that had been left behind a female's earlier wanderings.  He paused, taking a moment to analyze the scent.  Packwolf?  Well.  As a lone, it would likely pay to be curious more than it would to hide in a corner somewhere, and thus he decided to investigate.  He trotted off along after the scent to see who it was that left it behind.  He apparently wasn't too far behind, as soon enough a similar inkblot appeared heading to the lakeshore.  He was moving at a slightly faster pace, closing the gap until he got to within a reasonable distance.  'Whuff,'  was the sort of polite barked note to say he was there, and assuming she didn't turn out to be a rabid snarlbeast, he'd approach for a conversation.

The sound of another caused one ear to turn back. If he had not have made a sound, Hydra would potentially have become a rabid snarl beast, but when he did Hydra turned to look over her shoulder—would an attacker of the Woods alert her before he came to do his duty? She doubted it; she did not believe there was one honorable wolf there, except perhaps the wolf her father had spoken to.

In any case, there was man coming to meet her, and Hydra, flirty young she-wolf that she was, met him readily when the wind told her he was not a wolf who ran among those... beasts. She was not too giddy but was receptive of his company, chuffing back to him with a friendly tail-wave. Hydra wheeled around and moved toward him with all the grace and poise she possessed. Rian was not forgotten, but she could not deny that this male before her was handsome—she preferred men of his complexion, vain as she was—and his bright, luminescent eyes were captivating. His build was broader than her own, and he was only just taller than she herself was. Hydra and her sisters were no waifs, but were not bears of women themselves.

She moved to meet him halfway, wanting to inspect him for all the scents he carried. She wanted to know where he came from, who he ran with... if anyone.

At her response, he too stepped forward, getting a better look at who he'd be speaking to.  She could have been a sister if he bothered to think about it, but he'd walked thus far without any scents even vaguely familiar drifting through his nostrils that it was more likely he'd taken the long way around the globe to get to the other side of his home region than it was for her to actually be a relation of his.  Hell, Quixote would probably be more apt to preemptively attack a family member that followed him rather than to stop and say hi.  They had no good reason to hunt him down.

Quixote did confirm that she was of one of the packs he was pretty sure was near here.  He hadn't been too close to their borders recently, but there was enough of a memory tied to the smells she carried with her to make it seem likely.  Just making the assumption, though, wasn't going to give him a good entry into words, and being the awkward conversationalist that he was, he used that as an opening.  You from that pack that's... West of here?  That or the one south.  Close.  Might as well confirm it, you see.  He had an excuse.  He was some loner who didn't have a damn clue about anything -- and he'd happily plead ignorance if it got him information he wanted.  His interactions with actual permanent residents of the area had been minimal.

He really did need to learn how to be more sociable, though, not that he was good with people to begin with.  People wanted to snark and spar, sure.  Be "normal," well... Uh.

As she moved to suss out his scents, she found what she was looking for—he was alone. It smelled as though he had seen plenty while here though, and although she did not pick out any wolf she had met she could depict places she had seen in the Wilderness. She withdrew as he asked her a question, and Hydra gestured toward the mountain to the West of them. Moonspear, she informed him. And you are a lone wolf—or else a spy who does well at hiding his packscent, her eyes flashed and she proffered a pretty, disarming smile, though in truth she was only partially kidding. Are you hunting for any heads? The question was a bit morbid, but Hydra thought it best to catch him off-guard if he was in fact doing such a thing.

Hydra enjoyed both snarking and sparring, and if he truly was not a resident of this valley he could consider her words nothing but a joke. She'd be fine with that, more than fine, really. He was much too handsome to be running with a crowd of wolves that she would quite like to see removed... in any way possible.

Well at least a name was good.  That's more information than he'd gotten out of several wolves he'd met.  Gaps on his mental map were slowly being filled in, but more information was still needed before he could make a decision on where to go in the end -- assuming they even wanted him.  This wolf though, he wasn't entirely sure what to think of her.  She seemed rather catlike at least as far as the way she toyed with her words and that drove him to be a little more cautious than he otherwise might have been.  Or, well, almost.

He scoffed at the idea, apparently she'd inadvertently touched a nerve, A spy?  That's way too much effort.  Want a head removed? Sure, whatever, but find someone else to do the mindgames.  It was probably something to do with spies being seen as some way cool, ultra smart thing and those who didn't fight with words being degraded to cannon-fodder.  Screw the smarmy liars.  Quixote was a pretty honest dude most of the time.  He'd omit things, sure, but playing stupid was a lot different than outright creating falsehoods -- at least that's what he told himself.

Quixote, however, was indeed making a fool of himself, near as he could tell.  Ugh. He drew in half a breath and quickly cleared his mind, his tone now even and controlled, Sorry. I'm not here to cause trouble, just find out where to end up.  Normally he was keen on keeping himself to himself, but his mouth had gone ahead of him, and if he managed to completely weird out this Moonspear resident, that'd cross the pack off the list of options whether he wanted to go there in the end or not.

His abrupt response caused Hydra to blink, and after a moment of drawn out silence (deliberate on her part), Hydra drawled, I can appreciate that. 'Head removers' are more my type, anyway, she admitted forwardly. Hydra was young and inexperienced, and it made her both reckless and honest both—she was no lamb for any but perhaps Rian, who unnerved her, but was looking for Cypress. A teenager by all accounts, Hydra was discontent with being second in anyones heart, even if she could understand it completely. After all, she would never return were her sisters to go missing from this land. Her place was with them. All for one and one for all. 

But she thought of Drogon, a wolf who seemed capable of both—an ace of all spades. He came into her mind abruptly, and she was thoughtful for a moment before she was spoken to again. 

Looking for a place to end up. Well, what are you looking for? In a place to 'end up', she repeated, curious.

There was a small tug at the corner of his lips at the 'head removers' thing, a momentary flash of a subdued smirk but no more than that.  He was still, in his eyes, trying to recover from his earlier outburst.

I'm not too picky.  But honestly, he really couldn't help himself.  There was no way Quixote would ever win an award for being properly compused.  He was simply not wired to be some classy dude.  An idiot-free land of... Hell if I know.  Something without the geezers from my old pack breathing down my neck deciding for me what I'm going to do with my life.  He was rather bitter about that fact too, apparently.  Even though they'd chosen most of the same things he otherwise would have on his own, it was that remaining percentage that made him take the chance when the world warned him to go.  It wasn't completely irrational for him to expect to be able to do what he wanted within the orders given by leadership.

Restlessly he took a few steps, keeping at a set distance from her but merely unable to keep still. If I knew more of what I wanted, I'd probably have found it already.  But most of those I've come across have had about as much clue about what's around here as I have.  It's not made things easy. A brief pause before he tossed the verbal football back to her, I suppose there must be something awesome about Moonspear to keep you there, so what'd that be?  It was perhaps borderline playful, but since Quixote wasn't sure who he was playing with or what the rules were, he was pretty conservative with continuing.

His attitude was something Hydra decided she quite liked. There was something about him that made her quite comfortable, as if she had known him a long time—which Hydra knew she had not. Some things simply clicked. I hate idiots, she echoed then with a smirk. She knew of no geezers in Moonspear that breathed down necks—her father was quite content to let others be and do as they pleased so long as they carried their weight. And I think you're safe from the geezers of your old pack, here—I don't know of any that settled in Moonspear, at least. Moonspear was filled to the brim with young souls, her parents likely being the oldest there.

What he said made sense. It was one of those 'you'll know it when you find it' sort of sentiments he spoke on. At his inquiry, she grinned and took a step forward herself. For starters, there are no old geezers breathing down my neck, deciding anything for me. I was born and raised there, and I'm bias but I think my family is pretty great. Not to mention that it has the best views of the Valley—it feels like you're on top of the world, there, Hydra was really happy with her life. She really had nothing to complain about. Any of that appealing to you? she said with a laugh. Hydra was no real recruiter, but she wouldn't mind roping Quixote into their fold if it so happened.

Quixote was slow to warm up to people.  The other black wolf seemed at least somewhat approachable to him, but he was still trying to do a little bit of policing his words, even if slowly relaxing.  He was a wolf of several masks, and wasn't ready to swap them yet.

Well, if you've pruned the morons, that's definitely a positive, I'd say.  Having family running the place probably was quite the advantage for her if it wasn't ruined by other bossy types like it was for him.  Too bad the mix had felt more like poison than family.  He'd gotten sick of it.  It wasn't a real way to live.  He hadn't thought much about it, but being in a kinder pack might seem kind of alien to him.  Banding together because you actually liked the people rather than just by convenience and necessity would definitely change the atmosphere.  You make it sound all perfect paradise.  Make it so perfect, I'll end up ruining the whole thing with gloom and doom, though a wry smile suggested he wasn't totally serious about it, even if it did concern a corner of his mind.

Still, too perfect often came with a catch, Got anything weird about it I should know?  Pretty sure some people have some odd ideas about how a pack should be run, so gotta be warned.  Skill based, believing in some super-elk cult... Like what the hell.  He thought the whole thing was bogus.  Make a pack, get some wolves, live a good life, don't go complicating the whole thing.  Not everyone wanted to drink the koolaid -- unless they were gonna bring back Mountainberry Punch or something.

The bringers of gloom and doom are already spoken for, she quipped, anything else you can bring to the table? Moonspear was a chipper back, but it wasn't sunshine and rainbows. Hydra doubted any pack was. Gloom and doom came in the form of she and her sisters when any tried to step where they were not welcome on their turf. She bet Quixote could join them, if he so desired.

As far as anything weird? If carrying your weight is considered weird, there's that, she settled on. Nothing out of the ordinary. I've heard there are packs that worship gods and whatnot—that's not us, of course, they appreciated astronomy, but didn't all wolves? That was not weird to her—stars told of the seasons, and the moon was the lightbringer of the night and the teller of the day. What odd things have you heard? she asked, curious of his adventures.

He rolled a shoulder, Normal stuff mostly.  Hunting, fighting -- was trying to learn some more tactical stuff but they kept that between themselves.  Greedy.  They were beyond greedy.   It'd serve them right if a particularly cold winter turned them into woofcicles.


But onwards to something vaguely like gossip!  What he remembered was a little muddled by time (once he'd removed them from contention, he'd stopped caring) but he still recalled the things that he found most weird, One pack said that there's an elk on their territory they call the 'wolf killer.'  I mean, who in their right mind would put up with that existing on a packland?  Either it doesn't deserve the name, you kill it first, or you are just stupid to live there to begin with, but maybe that's just me.  That was the biggest thing that bothered him.  It seemed completely irresponsible no matter what way you swung reality.  Other than that, another wolf said her pack was going to be all skill based.  Like, what happens if someone doesn't want to be pigeonholed into one thing or doesn't know what to do with their life?  Suppose it's not as weird as the elk thing, but it just seemed wrong to me, the same.  At least the way it was presented to him, maybe.  It might not have been a bad thing, but he really, really didn't want something even in the same universe as what he grew up in.

Honestly I think there might have been some weird cult stuff going on in my birth pack but it was so far on the down low they should have buried the members.  Like actually buried. They looked like goddamn zombies.  Stupid creepy old tactician dudes.  The more he'd thought about it, the more he figured that it seemed almost likely.

So you didn't learn the tactical stuff? Hydra asked, a little disappointed for him.  Largely because she couldn't learn them from him in turn. Hydra was always looking to improve.

When he went on to explain what he'd learned, Hydra found herself taken quite aback by the elk killer... so, Blackfeather weren't the only insane lot, it seemed. An elk that kills wolves? Hydra's ears fell back before pricking forward. And as for the other pack based purely on skills, Hydra wrinkled her nose. How would one rank there? Was it based on contribution, or strength? Hydra believed it was all about strength, anyway.

As he spoke on cults, Hydra tilted her head. I know nothing about cults. What were they doing? He seemed to want to vent, and Hydra had no qualm in listening.

I'm aaliiiveeee

Screw officially.  Traded enough watches with people to eavesdrop.  Got the rough ideas, but not the practice.  And not a shred of guilt was found.  All it would have taken was one disease targeting the elders and they'd have been at a disadvantage.  With him picking up what he could, they'd at least not be starting from a complete blank slate.  The raid leaders would have been able to fill in some of the gaps.

As far as venting went, he mostly was just tired of the illogical things that had befallen him.  Nothing seemed right to him.  Like the world was just a bit skewed. And I have no idea.  On either aspect.  It made no sense to me.  Like if you're pretty good at a bunch of stuff but there's already a ton of hunters or something, wouldn't that put you at a disadvantage?  If you got more titles than the alpha, could you just take the rank without a squabble?  How do you even compare a wolf who could hunt a bison by themselves versus a wolf who could command an army or one that could practically raise the dead? They're too different.  To me, it seems like it opens more questions than it might solve.  Let 'em fight it out.  Get respect.  Hell, someone could be complete garbage at everything and if they're more reliable than some smarty-pants loser, I'd rather the garbage guy be higher rank.  He shrugged.  Quixote had opinions.  Lots of them.  Bury the world in them.

That'd be the tactician group in my old pack.  Like the oldest, most haggard wolves you ever saw.  Huddled around each other looking like they're about to croak, not socializing with the others... They were the ones who picked people's 'destinies' for them and stuff.  Not quite sure how.  Few of us called 'em the skeleton lords.  I don't know how they managed to cram that much unknown stuff in the middle of a pack.  Mulder would totally have been suspicious of them, Quixote would have agreed if he knew what the X-Files were.