Wild Berry Meadow Despite
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All Welcome 
Enter, the weirdo!

She was reaching the northern edge of the meadow already, eager to put what she'd seen behind her.  A single word followed her like a ghost: necromancers.  Had to be.  Who else would do that?  Why else?  Her path zigged and zagged through the snow, uncertain about her final destination in the snowy, bleak world, other than knowing that the only direction she thought would be safe would be away from the rotted lair she'd passed.

It angered her.  Why would they be tolerated?  Why were they not erased?  Certainly the blight would have been obvious when it was a young pack and they could have been fought off like any normal illness.  Now it was a festering, dark wound.  They should be hexed, she thought.  Godot would come back later with a plan -- ah, yes, it would be the only way, wouldn't it?  For a moment, her stride became more steady, but it quickly returned to her unsure state.  The fact she'd already stepped on a few brambles barely hidden by a thin layer of powder didn't help.

Her orange eyes swept the pale landscape around her.  Maybe she'd been noticed and they would come after her!  Perhaps they'd be sending spirits to haunt her or creatures to haunt her dreams.  There was much to worry about.  First she needed to slip away to sanctuary, as Godot did not come with the necessary conditioning to stay out here alone forever -- she was never in a position to get those extra resources.
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When Wraen had left the Moonspear in order to head East that morning, she did not know that she would stumble upon a literal treasure chest. There was a meadow tucked between three forests - Bramblepoint (her favorite), Heartwood (which she avoided ever since running into the Redhawk wolf with the ravaged face, she did not fancy seeing that guy again) and the distant patch of green, where rumour had it, the much feared and much hated Blackfeather wolves resided. At the first glance - quite inconspicious with the white cover of snow and stalks of grass and other dead and dried up plants sticking through. Even smells of these plants were hard to tell apart, because they all seemed pretty made up from the pretty much the same molecules - dried up matter, soil and ice - just in different concentrations varying from one spot to the other.

But what drew her attention was the deer tracks that were criscrossing the area she was exploring and the patches of bare earth, where they had uncovered the grass and little berry bushes they needed for their meals. And there in the middle of the "wreckage" was a single berry bush standing with little bright red berries on it's branches and it seemed to be gloating just the same way that fateful apple tree in the Bible would have. Up until then Wraen had not been aware that you could find "the green forage" in winter, therefore her surprise was a pleasant one. She picked carefully one berry after the other, feeling the sweet and cold taste in her mouth before swallowing them.

It was there and then, when she noticed that she was not alone in the meadow and that a distance away there was another wolf standing. It had an unusual coat color, which had worked as a good camouflage against the white of the snow and the yellows, grays, browns and blacks of the grass and other plants. "Hey!" Wraen called out to the stranger, approaching it confidently, eager to make a new acquaintance and looking forward to a conversation with a traveller just like herself.
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When Talion picked up Wraen's trail heading out of Moonspear, he followed it. Curious as to where she might be heading and wondering if she might wish for company, the peppered Roux-Abrhen ventured from his new home for the first time since joining its ranks. He supposed a change of scenery would do him good considering his recent low mood, and he was keen to get to know his ash-pelted comrade better. He hoped they might be firm friends in time, as he longed to be part of the tight-knit, solid kinship that he'd observed among the already established wolves of the mountain.

Unable to keep up, for he was continuously distracted by new sights and signs of prey, the young hunter only managed to find his pack-mate within his sight when he loped along a worn deer trail that he assumed Wraen to have followed. Pricking his obsidian lobes, he heard her voice not far off and picked up his pace, trotting across the frozen snow and earth to greet her - and another, he noted - with a friendly lash of his feathery tail.
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Though movements caught her eye, she so wished instead it would melt into the bleak whiteness and simply not be a thing.  She was at the wrong place versus the wind to be able to tell where (or what, but the greyish back she could see over a clump of snow-laden bushes was either a wolf or the largest coyote she'd ever seen) they came from, so Godot was instantly believing that she was being hunted by her previously-mentioned necromancers.  Certainly she was doomed.

She uttered a quiet whine, likely inaudible from where the other wolf was, frozen for the moment and unable to flee.  Running was likely a bad idea anyway -- if she was being hunted that'd make them chase her down faster, right?  It was only when her legs started to behave again and she lifted a paw off the ground in preparation of turning away and slinking off that she was noticed.  And approached.

It was absolutely terrifying.  Here she was, faced down with a necromancer that had managed to keep up.  She thought she'd been so stealthy passing by their lands!  Alas, no, here Godot would die, she better just accept --- wait, was the wolf not from there?  Her body twitched as if she'd sneezed, processing the data that was then available.  No.  This woman was not a necromancer.  Some of the tension through her shoulders released and she shifted her paws slightly on the ground.  Her posture was slightly submissive but entirely uncertain, and being blessed with such awkward social graces, her reply once they were in conversation-range was rather flat.  Why are their kind allowed here? It was, perhaps, a little indignant, but coupled with a subtle flick of her nose towards the territory she'd passed, she'd hoped her intentions were clear.

Or they likely were until she spotted another approaching.  Certainly this was the necromancer!  Startled, she filled the void with a few broken words, Or I should -- uh -- yeah, and skittered away a yard or two before her brain would have a chance of realizing that no, that was not a necromancer either.  But there were two of them!  And they smelled kinda the same.  Was someone else hunting her?!  She crouched slightly behind a berry bush, as if it were a shield, unsure if she should trust the amiable attitudes of the pair.

Godot had stayed alive by living on fear or causing it in others.  No sense changing now.
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Had Wraen been a mind-reader, she would have very much liked to know, what were those necromancers that the unusual wolf was running away from and why were they chasing her to begin with. Since the turmoil that went on in the stranger's head remained hidden, all she could deduce that this person was extraordinary. Weird even. 

With the corner of her eye she noticed Tallion, who had apparently followed her tracks all the way from the Moonspear. And - though he was a newbie - she felt relieved that she would not have to face this person alone. Come here, Wraen beckoned to the young man to take place next to her. With the reinforcements the girl felt confident to face the stranger. 

"Who are you and what kind are you not entirely satisfied with?"
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Wraen noticed his arrival and looked his way, relief in her soft eyes. He lifted his brow, surprised. Talion couldn't say he'd ever met a girl who looked glad to see him. Uncertain, he glanced away and down at the snow beneath his feet, then up at the other she-wolf who seemed to have gone into hiding... awkwardly.

Gingerly, the raven-tipped yearling stepped up alongside his ashen pack-mate, and arched his neck sideways to eye the first wolf in the world with an even more timid nature than him. It both amused him and made him feel sorry for the stranger all the same. Unsure how to help, Talion whined softly and made to exchange a concerned glance with Wraen, who took take charge of the situation. He inhaled deeply, trying his best to believe that her confidence might be infectious.
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Godot hadn't been flayed alive and turned into an ambling skeleton monster yet.  That was good at least.  So that guy who showed up was also probably not a necromancer.  But that wasn't going to stop her from being careful.

Her head popped up from behind the bush.  The necromancers, she hissed. Who else would keep a territory like that?  She seemed almost aghast that they didn't know instantly who she had been talking about.  Maybe that was why they were still here!  Nobody knew how to identify necromancers.  How weird.  Any layman should totally be able to see that was totally a pack of necromancers and decide that someone should drive them all out.  Like duh, it was the only thing to do, right?

She totally neglected the 'who are you' part of the question. More likely out of being easily distracted rather than purposely ignoring it.
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"The necromancers," Wraen repeated the word and cast a skeptical look at the she-wolf. Was she messing with them (if she was, then it was a not wise thing to do - two against one weren't bright chances), was she mad or was she telling the truth, no matter, how unlikely it was. "I have never heard of those before - what are they?" she asked and cast a questioning glance over at Talion, in case he had any clue, what the lady was talking about.

"And you did not reply my earlier question - who are you and what are you doing here?" she spoke in a more stern voice, as if somehow this unclaimed land belonged to her and the female was an intruder.
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She paused a moment, and stood to full height, as if she'd never been hiding in the first place.  They like.. worship dead things. Probably try to bring people back to the dead.  Maybe dead gods, she hissed.  How foolish they were!  They'll curse your pack and try to poison you if you get too close. A pause, then she continued, quite matter-of-factly, They're quite easy to spot when they're allowed to be so blatant about it.  As far as she was concerned, these pack wolves were responsible for whatever ills the dark forest's wolves brought onto the land -- whatever perils, whatever plagues.  They had done nothing to prevent it.

Her fear had pretty well left her, given that all that it was obvious these idiots weren't a threat except by numbers.  They probably had issues telling the difference between a moose and a deer if they were that oblivious.  Again she ignored the next question, and judging by the frown that graced her features, she wasn't planning on answering such a spineless demand.  This was no-wolf's land.  She would answer to none if they were impolite about it.  Fear had blown away on a winter wind.  All that was left was the ornery wolf.
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"Sound like murderers and necrophiliacs to me," Wraen responded after calmly listening to the bizarre story the other revealed. Usually she was all for hearing unusual and supernatural stuff, but the way this she-wolf acted, began to annoy her and therefore spoiled the otherwise interesting piece of possibly true experience.

"Why are you so special, that they want to hunt you down?" she asked, deciding not to request "who the hell are you, moron???" a third time, because she had gained an impression that no matter, what she would want to find out, the other female would say and tell, what she wanted to be known to the general public.

"Are you some princess or a chosen one or something?"
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Can wrap up probably? :D  'Twas not what I was expecting with the thread, hah.

Godot was sorely tempted to roll her eyes but waited for the other to finish.  When she did, her irritation had been replaced with a stifled guffaw at the sheer hypocrisy of it all. Do you even listen to yourself? she said, sharply amused and now no longer able to see this woman as anything but a complete and total buffoon.  You agree that it's obviously a pack of murderers, and you ask why I'd stay the hell away from them?  You demand to know who I am in an area where you hold no power and then you ask if I'm the princess?   She snorted, starting to move away from this depressingly irrational waste of a wolf and her silent friend.  Godot wondered if that was her mate or something -- it'd be hilarious if that guy dumped her now that she'd shown her true colors!  Well, assuming he wasn't equally daft.  Either way, she wouldn't know the answer, as she hoped to never see them again.

Godot was a rollercoaster -- she'd been absolutely terrified, stubbornly a know-it-all and now was wrapping things up as a mildly-petulant ball of snark.  Anyway, there was no point continuing the discussion.  Yeah no thanks, that'd be some fae-level stuff right there if it wasn't so dumb. I'll just keep going -- I'd not like your pack either. Ta!  She started to head off, and assuming she'd not be stopped, she'd continue on her way to the sea.