Jade Fern Grove lying face up on the floor / of my vessel

It was hard to leave the hollow, though she swore to herself that she would return. Larkspur chose a direction at random and found herself heading north, crossing a patch of open ground before stepping into another woodland. Although it was several weeks into spring, a light snow had fallen overnight. Even here beneath the bare treetops, there was an inch-thick layer of powdery white. It was the soft sort of snow, so that she moved noiselessly through the undergrowth.

Feeling peckish, she began sniffing around for signs of small game. A set of tiny footprints in the snow betrayed the recent passage of a weasel. Spur licked her chops and crept along the trail. It led to the mouth of a small burrow. She assessed it for a moment and decided it was much too small to bother with forced entry. Instead, she lowered herself to the ground behind a nearby shrub, mustering patience as she waited for the weasel to reemerge.

The wandering crow had left the edges of the valley and his lengthy limbs had carried him out and beyond the meadow, past the lake, and into the heart of a quiet coppice. His lantern gaze bobbed along with each stride that carried him outside of the pack and into the unknown wilds. Tadec was careful to search for those who might approach him – blindside him – during his travels and crept mainly in the shadows to conceal his limber frame. The ground was still littered with snow, but signs of spring had blossomed their way through in the form of buds sprouting on the length of trees. It would not have been long before life would have found its way back into the wilds.
 
The scent of a stranger buffeted him, forcing Tadec to take a slower pace. He searched for the stranger with a wary sliding of his gaze, until he saw her crouched low in preparation for a hunt. The thief was not eager to spoil her fun, but his stomach had protested they stop and eat a couple miles back. Drawing his tongue along the dark hairs of his lip, the half-blooded creature watched and waited to see if her prey would escape her and provide him with an opportunity.

After a time, Larkspur wondered if the resident weasel had gone to ground for the day. Not only didn't she see any activity at the mouth of the small burrow, she didn't hear any stirring within. Her lips parted on a sigh and she decided she'd have better luck elsewhere. She rose quietly and began to glide away, though she spared one last glance at the little dugout as if hoping for a stroke of luck at the last possible moment...

But there was nothing there, so she faced forward and gave a gasp when her eyes locked with an orange pair just a few yards away through the trees. Spur swallowed and froze warily, squinting slightly to discern the other canine's shape. He was slight of build, with a dark coat. It surprised her to see the shock of reddish fur along his back, not so unlike her own.

The unknown wolf remained poised until she seemed to lose interest in the possibility of a catch, or the scent had faded long enough for her to believe that it would not be fruitful. Whatever her reason, the golden female swung herself in his direction and latched cerulean to bronze. Tadec gaped at her, posed to flee from the scene if she should be ignited with a need to lash against him. One paw was raised delicately into the air, held near his chest to offer advantage. The thief’s breath caught in his throat. Should he have found his tongue in time, the halfling would have whispered a fearful apology and then departed. Instead, his narrow muzzle was pointed to her and his fur danced wildly along his neck and shoulders to appear as wavering flame.
 
Locked in this moment, the grim silfessi urged himself to react in an appropriate fashion. After a few long seconds, his slender frame dropped into a respectful form. He held his head level to protect his tender throat from an attack, and he offered the girl something of a withered smile. “Apologies,” he breathed in a timbre that did not suit the litheness of his build. “Tadec was only passing through.” Then, the crow motioned with his muzzle through the thicket and beyond, to whatever might meet him on the other side. A slight cant of his skull suggested some curiosity.
 
“Hunger?”

He reacted just the way Larkspur would have as a youngster. She could see the way the fear froze him in a momentary fight-or-flight pose, the way his burning eyes flashed with trepidation. She immediately felt a sense of camaraderie spring up and she opened her mouth to make a reassuring noise of some sort when he spoke. He apologized even as he prostrated himself.

"Oh," she began, about to reassure him that he needn't be afraid, nor posture himself that way. But his words gave her some pause. It took a beat for her to parse the meaning and decide he was speaking rather crudely, as if not entirely comfortable with the common tongue. Spur's ears flicked with interest, but not judgment, and she tilted her head slightly at his curious tone.

"You're Tadec?" she clarified before introducing herself as, "Larkspur Ostrega, Spur for short. I'm a little hungry, yes. What about you?"

“Yes, this one is called Tadec,” he confirmed with a soft bow of his head. The girl then followed with a swift introduction of herself and afforded him a nickname to call her. The thief was grateful that he would not be expected to use the full name of the golden wolf. He would have out of a sheer need to be polite to their kind – to save his own hide from the jagged marks of the fang. Spur seemed amiable enough that he did not feel as though he was risking his wellbeing. The sprightly creature allowed his thin-lipped expression to spread into a smile. “Larkspur Ost…rega,” he attempted with a catch in his tongue. “Eyes like the summer sky.” The blue pools that peered at him were indeed an entrancing pair. The color brought about him a peculiar sense of nostalgia.
 
The girl – Spur – mentioned that she was somewhat hungry. Tadec nodded his head and pointed his narrow muzzle into the copse with an intent expression. “Let us eat, then,” he agreed with a motion of his head so that she might track with him. He was fond of smaller game and had a skill for capturing voles, but he was certain she would want to eat more. There had been a small batch of turkeys who had wandered near the area during his last excursion; he hoped he could catch their scent again.  

It was such a strange combination: he spoke crudely yet eloquently, all at once. Larkspur marveled at this for a beat before pressing her lips tightly together and bobbing her head. She always hunted alone these days, so she wasn't sure how two strangers might coordinate on such an endeavor. Besides that, she preferred her own company and wouldn't normally accept an invitation so readily. But there was something intriguing about Tadec—and she was hungry—so she followed up her nod with a quiet, "All right."

He began slinking through the grove, so Spur followed after him, minding the carpet of snow underfoot and keeping her steps as light and noiseless as possible. She swept her surroundings with her bright gaze, her whiskers twitching as her nostrils flared to drink in the myriad scents of this frozen jungle.

There was a single word of agreement and the light gold female turned to follow him into the brush of the wood. Tadec led Larkspur through the thick foliage of the grove before they had found a clean opening and a small gaggle of turkeys that had been strutting around in the same circles. The two hunted together and once Tadec had shared a short time with the woman, he turned and left her to her own journey.