The Sentinels die cast memories strewn aside

Along the northernmost fringes of the weald lied the torn expanse of forestry far older. Dirge had been there once before but had not explored it at length; there wasn't much to it in his eyes. Yet it was not so easily avoided when he bothered to trek this way, ever teasing the border between coast and wilderness and its gentle exchange though admittedly violent here. For a spell he had continued to toy along its fringes, the weald long thinned behind him and the old deadwood forest jagged and bittern defiant to the greenery that seeped in still. Yet when the time came, he once more delved into its depths and drew in its scents.

The wolves to the north nestled in their bay some odd miles away had grown quiet—it was here in the midsts he had heard them before, and to the fields east—and his interest was unquestionably piqued. With @Nyx's disdain for the coast it was not often he ventured this way, yet the silence was a palpable thing, almost troubling with the way the turn of the season was soon to approach. A still chilled wind made the old wood groan as it was caught in a gale, the northern wind pulling sea salt and loam, and the faint fermentation of indescribable waste.

He paused along the rotting wood where coastal foliage overtook it and tasted that air, mulling untold options that masked his countenance in thought. It was troubled, those thoughts, but the stoic mask belied he ever had a concern. The steps he took thereafter followed suit—he would push a bit further to confirm or deny that the silence implied the competition had abandoned their quest and home, and would quit the hallowed wood for the weald.

Apple had been a forest wolf all her life, therefore seeing the oceanside for the first time, had been quite something. Now and then these days she had toyed with the idea of finding another comfortable pocket of Blackthorns, but this sight reminded her, just why she had left the home in the first place. To see and experience, and for the first time in her life - live for herself only. The sand, the waves, the neverending waters were breath-taking and she had chosen to walk along the beach to be in the vicinity of such beauty and majesty just a little longer.

The hunger, however, made her do a little detour in the nearby forest that seemed to have suffered greatly from a forest fire once and was now recovering. Here and there she found mice and some other busy rodents that she did not know by name, and was about to venture further, when she noticed that she had not been entirely alone and that there was an agouti wolf not too far from her. "Hello!" she called out to him and moved to approach and greet properly.

For the most part, the deadwood was usually silent, void of other canines. Though silence was subjective here; the timber creaked and critters chattered all to set the ambience that was generally tuned out by him. So focused in his own quest, he did not take the time to notice that he was not alone here and thusly was disconnected from his pursuits when a voice called out to him.

The crone was not hard to miss, the varied tones of her alabaster and cream coat jarring against the weathered wood and darkening greens. His gaze alighted on her as she made her way to him, his steps slowly halting. His jaw set unevenly, for once rendered silent where he may have swift to slather a greeting in return.

He abandoned the thought of hellos for another line altogether: "Not every day I find someone else lurking around in these parts." There had been a time before, perhaps, that he had found another set to lumber about in, well, the lumber, but that had been some time ago when he hadn't been so set on trying to plant his own roots.

"In that case it is lucky I am here," Nanny Apple replied in a self-assured manner of a person, who knows it's worth and truly has no shame at all. She looked the man up and down, deemed him a worthy individual that has a certain amount of charm surrounding him, and smiled in a manner of a lady, who has played the game often, knows all the rules and knows, how to cheat as well.

"I am Apple Blackthorn - tyranic matron of the Blackthorn clan. And with whom do I have the pleasure to speak with?" she took the initiative in the conversation.

Lucky for whom, he wondered but once when her introduction had finished. Tyrannic was not exactly the sort of thing he would have associated with matron, but perhaps she was simply an old witch in wolf's clothing and there to lead him closer with a saccharine lilt, all polite and proper. Yet it was the sort of discourse he almost preferred.

"I'm Dirge," he offered in exchange, "what brings a distinguished matron out in these parts? One of your babes escape your gaze?" Though if he had to guess, her children were more than likely grown, but that hardly meant she was without a role. Even those who approached the sundown of their lives had a purpose.

i love her already, and your writing

"All of my babies knew better than to wander off. Though I can't say I was not happy to see some of them go," Apple replied with a sincere smile, which meant that no matter, how ill she spoke of her offpring behind their backs, she loved them all dearly. And a hint of warning - she was the only one, who was allowed to criticize them. Heaven forbid, if anyone else said that they were any less than absolutely perfect individuals. 

"I fulfilled my role to replenish the Blackthorn stock up to the brim and now I am on a life-long vacation from it," she answered. "And you - Dirge - odd to see an able-bodied young man like yourself being on his own?"

"Is it now?" he asked. Of course he didn't think it strange at all, but then again there had been very few things in his life that could have been considered normal. Though now he did wonder if perhaps his own mother had been happy to see him go, even in light of the dismay that had once crossed her features when he had made his plans to leave and never return.

He continued: "I'd like to think that it isn't all that peculiar, but perhaps my priorities are in different places than the rest. Perhaps I'm taking a vacation from responsibility." A wan smile crossed his muzzle, as though somehow charm could save him from a disapproving mother stare that no doubt was very sharp and very keen.

sorry for the wait. have been very busy.

"It seems then that we are quite on the same page, aren't we?" Apple replied cheerfully. Though she hardly every asked anyone's opinion about her decisions and doings (shameless, utterly shameless she was and proud for it too), it was reassuring to hear that she was not the only one, who feeling tired and done with all the responsibilities of the world, had put them on the upper shelf and closed the cabinet for a while. Winter would come and the matron realized that she would have to join a group to stay alive during the barren and cold months, but for now she liked her life the way it was. 

"Has it worked out for you? Speaking of myself - seeing the world has been the best choice. I have met so many interesting people so far," she shared.

The disapproval did not come, much to his surprise. There was definite truth in her words that she was in fact, truly done with such things. Live and let live. Her lifestyle choice in her golden years however had very much been the one he had chosen for himself, perhaps to last a lifetime, however long that may have been. Dirge had little plans to settle in the long run, unless of course the right things came together. He still carried and held onto ambition however misguided it was, and the thought that perhaps he would still cobble together a fashionable means to scrape through the winter lingered.

"Well enough," he said, "you'll find decent company in these parts, of that I'm certain. I haven't had any particular bad experiences worth remembering at least," though perhaps if he had thought about it, there were bound to be a couple. But it was also relatively easy to let it go, as in reality with time and space, he could always get far enough not to have to deal with it too.

A question came to mind at the heel of his statement; he canted his head to ask: "Have you been on the trail long?"

"I have not actually counted," Apple shrugged. Her last litter had been born mid-winter and they had been boisterous teenagers that had outgrown their dear mom in size twice, when she had left to see the world. Some point during summer, most likely, because prey had been easy to come by and she had retained her wel-fed and cared for looks up until now. 

"But I realize that I will have to settle with some pack for winter, 'cause I am not ready to kick the bucket yet," she added, though it was evident that she was not really looking forward to it. She did not wish to have her wings clipped just yet, though the harsh reality was that, if she did not, she would not survive the winter. 

"What about you? What do you plan to do?"

Winter. He hadn't put a lot of thought into it yet, though he was well aware of it coming. The days would dwindle soon, if not swiftly all at once, and the gentle touches of cold to the land would stay longer and longer. Truth be told, he didn't need to think about the coming winter because the world would always bring it back around to remind him like an annoying bug caught in his ear. But if there were one thing alone he had that the old crone didn't, it was still his youth. It would cost him, but Dirge was resourceful—and arrogant—enough to scrape by through a lengthy cold spell.

Still, with the numbers of the weald having certainly dwindled, and Nyx off on some adventure to boot, he had the realization that he too needed to think of his options. Lingering along the borders of the wilderness and coast could only sustain him for so long. His head raised to survey the scenery past them for a moment as he considered his reply.

”Mostly what I want, if I'm being honest,” he answered after a beat. ”Winter here is cold certainly, but I've been in colder. There's always warm bodies to group with if nothing else, and plenty of packs too.” The winter he had spent in the Wilds was nothing compared to the stint he had taken further north than that at the first of spring weather; he found he could tolerate cold so long as it wasn't as damp as it had been there.

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"Good for you," Apple replied, feeling grateful that there was just enough youth in her left not to succumb to the curse of "people taking you places, where you did not want to be" that came together with advanced age. Honestly, this was one of the main reasons, why she had left the nest and the safe shed of the metaphorical farmyard in the first place. While she still could, while she could still catch up with the pace of the world and not fall behind and mournfully watch, how everyone else rushed passed her.

"Sounds like you have been around these woods for quite a while. A word of advice to, what family groups are worth checking out and which one should avoid?" she asked.

Around for quite a while, oh but if only she knew the tangled story that had even brought him there in the first place. Or perhaps more recently the growing list of frustrations that seemed to plague him. It shouldn't have felt a bit like a knife prick but it did, this thought that he had been somewhere long enough to have some sort of acquaintance with things. Yet it passed and swiftly, much like the way the wind shifted subtly with the minutes in their passage.

”Couldn't tell you, at least not honestly. I prefer to keep myself out of such business—too much hoopla and ceremony,” he said with a dismissive cant of his head. ”The ones that are familial are not exactly the type to take well to outsiders, unless you can impress them. But I know there's a pack or two along this coast, but more are further inland, near the mountains.” Dirge gestured with his muzzle as he explained. It probably would have paid him to be better acquainted with the packs, but outside of Moonspear, he had never really bothered remembering the names of the others.

It had simply never interested him.

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"Ooooh... making an impression has never been a problem for me. It's usually the people that take it the wrong way," Apple laughed heartily. "And I don't understand why - with me being all cute, fluffy and adorable, what's there not to like? It isn't like I am not an open book," as she said this, she winked at Dirge. The old lady was exactly the opposite of a person plain, simple and obvious.

"And I can't understand, why familial packs would be against having strangers in their ranks," she mused innocently. "In my time, if there was anyone capable and willing to take those rascals and delinquents called my children off my paws, they had a spot guaranteed. And I never took to heart, when they ran off after a month or two, having aged by a century, white hairs all over and hobbling. I would have done it myself, were it not for the mother's commitment," and the fact that her boisterous band had a healthy fear of their mother's wrath.

"Anyway, I got off track. Two on the coast and more inland, you said?" she tried to recall, what Dirge had told her. "By any chance, is there a Blackthorn wolf in any of them?" Apple did not mind strangers, but it was easier to squeeze out benefits, if you were dealing with a family member. Even a distant relation worked for the cause.

A Blackthorn in them? The name had an air of familiarity to it, but he could not immediately place it, or determine where he may have known it from. Still, he pondered this in expression openly for several moments, his brow furrowing with consideration. Again, pity he didn't know more about the packs around him beyond what they were roughly comprised of at their basic level. Moonspear held at least one half of heritage, not that he had any notions about claiming it any time soon—that was a venture proved more trouble than it was worth.

”Doubtful that's any of them on the coast—they're the most mismatched when it comes to relations from what I can gather,” he answered. ”I think your best bet would be inland if you're looking for family. There's a couple of packs to the west, more to the south if you follow the river. I unfortunately cannot claim to know who they belong to, but Blackthorn is familiar; you're bound to find what you're looking for there.” And briefly, he wondered if it were nice at all to seek out family, at least ones that weren't all rotten or vague.

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"It should be. Blackthorns are like weeds, you can find at least one in every corner of the world," Apple said the phrase that she had used and proved to be true on so many past occasions. It could be attributed to the fact that she had spent most of her life in a pack, whose neighbour's had been direct descendants of her and that bloke, who happened to be her mate at that time.

"I won't waste my time then and get going. That way - am I right?" she asked pointing towards Tuktu Hinterlands, but in no specific direction. "Thank you for all of your advice and it was lovely to talk to you as well. Good luck and hopefully we meet again. Me - alive, and you - thriving!" The old lady remained just long enough to hear, what Dirge had to add and then cantered off towards the sun-lit horizon and bright, bright future ahead of her.

Her parting remarks teased another smile to his face—one genuine at that—and he found that he truly wished her well. While she seemed so set, so certain in her desires, it instead revealed in him that the only thing he was particularly certain of was his uncertainties of what the future would hold. He had ever certainty that he would thrive, lest something came along to rend him otherwise, but whether or not their paths would cross would remain a mystery above all else.

”Safe travels,” he offered to her as she turned to go; it was there that he lingered until she had slipped from view in her westerly direction. And he lingered there for some time in a silent debate of what to do next before deciding to follow through with what he had set out to do in the first place. The coast beckoned him, and so Dirge relented and gave in to its pull.