The Bracken Woods Where Shadows Lie

There were easier paths to tread, but he didn't want easier. 

A single digit stroked the curved exterior of the razor-sharp thorns that lined the endless brambles. How thoroughly the plants protected themselves, greedily sequestering their life's essence behind an impressive array of weapons. Beautiful, in their own way.

Shroud tilted his obsidian head to one side, studying the specimens before him. The rest of his figure was recumbent on the cold forest floor, white tail tip flicking gently against a lanky steel-blue haunch. For all intents and purposes, the young man appeared in repose, or perhaps meditative, barely visible in the oppressive darkness of the forest.

He'd been slowly working his way through the countless miles of dense undergrowth since arriving from the northern wastes. "Teekon" - that's what his mother had called these lands. Lands of promise and hope, where wolves could strike out in search of... whatever they sought. Could he find what he was seeking?

Transfixed by the local flora, he ran the pad of the stroking paw against the tip of a thorn, observing the way it cut the skin, allowing a single drop of blood to trickle down. Fascinating. Soft lavender eyes remained focused on the ruby droplet, a testament to his own still flickering life flame. A flame, he knew, risked being snuffed out all too soon, but not if he could help it.

obsidian prince wandered from queen's range; for now, though he decided he'd remain there most days. he sought knowledge, most of all - what could he do to keep her impress to ensure within her borders he would not be persued by packwolf who did not share his kingdom's customs? imeut was used to playing diplomat, but vishka-rektr lay beyond the scent of these lands - who knew what brutality his kind were here? without guard or people to defend him, the prince could fall to any number of attack and that would leave him without his rite being fulfilled!
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he took moment to stop and crack his back, a deep yawn. what did vahir have for him today, he wondered to the wind.

Pop!

Then a yawn.

The male's obsidian head snapped to attention, breaking his reverie. He placed his paw back on the earth, sharp pale eyes scanning the darkness that enshrouded him. He was not alone.

The man remained in stillness, senses on high alert. He could barely, barely make out a figure through the curtain of blades - they were jet in color, perfect for concealing oneself within the confines of these ancient woods. Nose searched for a scent, anything to identify more about the other. One of his kind, yes; male. Little else came his way.

For now, the recluse stayed silent, closely scrutinizing his companion. Would he be discovered? he mused. Though he didn't welcome company, he wouldn't dismiss it, either - at least not right away.

vahir brought a scent his way. a male wolf. to this, he shook slender body to puff up his coat; queen wanted companion, after all - twas only fair that which she sought looked the part of a noble such as he. 
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royal ear flicked with the wind.
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he was not alone, as was but nature. he carried vahir with him always. state yourself. he called to the direction vahir had come; an invitation not of malice, but of curiosity.

State yourself.

Shroud smirked. So simple a question, but so... loaded. So many subtle queries left unspoken, and thus, unanswered. But none of that would satisfy the other's inquiry. No, he had to produce an answer. Just one. Regrettable.

"A traveler," he replied simply from his position beneath the brambles in clear, deep tones, "I carry no ill will."

Amethyst eyes focused intently on the obsidian profile before him, glowing almost eerily in the dusky haze. Ears stood forward; their white innards barely visible in the gloom. He couldn't help but notice his own curiosity piqued - it wasn't often he interacted with others outside of curt business transactions. The faint smirk continued to tug at the corners of his lips before he checked it, allowing it to fade back into the expressionless mask that was so comfortable to him.

"And you?"

obsidian prince dipped his head, tail curved elegantly and a slight breeze seemed to muffle his appearance with fur. i am imeut.

he claimed no ill intention. you could say that i am undergoing a rite of passage. forgive my forwardness, i fear i am not used to speaking to others in this land.

Lavender eyes disappeared into obscurity before reappearing like amethysts in the dark as Shroud merely blinked. Well, the other had given him courtesy and provided a name. Perhaps it was only fitting he try to observe some social norms.

"Shroud," he offered plainly.

Slowly, casually, the young man emerged from his bramble nest, allowing the luxury of a (careful) stretch before fully extricating himself.

A rite of passage? Curious, and Silas was nothing if not curious. Not in a malicious or conniving manner, no, but more of as a characteristic of one that had a healthy intellect and not enough of an outlet in which to channel it.

"Oh? Then we have something in common, it seems, for I daresay I rarely engage in discourse with others," the caped man replied, his manner of speaking and tone both eerily monotonous. 

He paused. He was rather curious about the other's business in these parts, but it wasn't his intention to pry. After all, Silas would have found it quite bothersome himself if someone else thrust their nose into his affairs.

"I'm a simple itinerant. I'd heard rumors of these lands and came to see for myself if they were valid."