Hoshor Plains My dearest love I'm not done yet.

On the border of HP. Njal is going around Greatwater Lake and heading to RHC, so he's bound to encounter a Dotharan.

Of all the places he had visited in his life, Njal was most taken aback by this place. The lake here was bigger than anything he had seen further north - aside from the ocean, obviously - and the plains, they hearkened back to a simpler time. He was distinctly reminded of Kindred, and of the beginnings of his life with Proudheart - but as soon as he thought of her, his mind began to resist. It was difficult to justify all that he had done for the sake of his family. Everything he had done to her. But remembering when they were still so young and filled with potential.. It brought a rare smile to his aged face. This too was fleeting, for as soon as he realized his contentedness, Njal turned his attention away from the rolling hills and continued to creep along the lake's shore.

The lands were open here.

Crows were in the sky. Meat, they foretold.

Bear was hungry. And so she entered the Plains lands. There was a wolf nearby, she could smell them. But this meat would be her meat. So she charged at the silver beast, bellowing her displeasure at his presence, hoping he would simply turn around and go. Sometimes it was that simple. Other times, it was not, and she needed to make use of her long claws and her mighty weight and her yellowed teeth.

She would do it all if she had to. She was that hungry. The grizzly creature showed no sign of stopping. If it ran, she would turn back to find those crows. Find that meat. Her meat.

The old gray wolf must have been taken by quite the daydream, for he had not realized the bear was within his proximity until it was nearly too late. The creature could have been watching him for hours, or maybe it was simply lingering along the shore in search of a meal - but whatever it had been doing, it was now charging at him. Forgetting in that instant of his plan to find Fox, Njal did what any beast should do (unless your name is Finley) and ran in the opposite direction from the stampeding bear. Even at his age, Njal was nimble enough to keep out of the slow-moving creature's way; it was powerful and filled with intent, but Njal's desire to remain intact rivaled that. The bear could go on and do as it pleased while Njal - diverted from his course along the bank of the lake - found himself faced with a river he would have to cross if he wanted to live. Easier said than done.

Her cameo here was to shift his direction, dunno if she succeeded!

When the wolf turned and ran, the animal found satisfaction in that. So she turned to go and find the carrion the ravens had indicated, moving in her slow trot. The wolf had displayed to her it would be no bother, so she went on her way. If it came to her again, she would simply charge at it again until it let her alone. But in the meantime, she moved closer to the food, deeper into the Plains.

Tomahawk had seen the bear often in their lands the past few days, though she did not know what it meant to do with the Dotharan wolves (and their sole slave). Perhaps it did not care to do anything at all. She observed it now from afar, yellow eyes squinting against the sun. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat when she thought the grey wolf might be attacked, but he did what any sane wolf would do, and he ran away from her. Tomahawk breathed a sigh of relief, watching as the great she-bear went about her business.

A nervous, cursory glance around her told Tomahawk that none of her masters were nearby to chase off the offending wolf, but it seemed the bear had taken care of that. Perhaps she wasn't such a terrible beast to have around.

Yes! She chased him towards where the river meets the lake, so now he's just gotta cross that and he'll be free to roam to RHC. Thanks! :)

The bear did not linger long, but Njal was not eager to stick around either. He wouldn't want to test the limits of a grizzly's patience either way. So, without really thinking, he sought the shallows of the rushing river and tried to find a way across. He managed to make it a few feet before the shallows were cut away by the speed of the water, leaving him to find a new path.

There was a natural ledge within the river, like a stairway, but to walk upon it would also risk being taken by the water; and while Njal was strong, he doubted he could contend with the force of the current. Further down the river from his vantage point, he could see some exposed, damp boulders. Perhaps he could climb across those to escape? He would have to be bold and daring, and take the risk. So Njal opted for the nearby shelf. 

With a carefully placed paw, he tested the stone for its strength (as if it couldn't handle his weight, pfft), and was immediately shocked by how cold the water was. Even with the heat of summer boiling the lands around him, the river appeared to be unaffected. He grit his teeth, and forced himself in to the river. The water rushed over his feet and as he crossed, Njal felt the chill lifting up his legs; his fur matted against his body, while the spray from the river (and his obstruction of it) drenched him. When he made it to the other side, the old man was thrilled.

A wrong step could've spelled doom, and nobody would have known of his demise.

Njal shook off as much of the chill as he could, and glanced back over the river. He couldn't see the bear or any other living thing, and was content in his abilities. Fate was on his side for a change - so maybe his decision to find Fox and her pack was the right one. Without further thought, Njal continued on his journey, now set in the correct direction.

Since the coyote minded her own, Bear did not mind it. She could smell the thing, but not see it in the golden plains. As long as it was not a pest, she would let it be. Bear hated pests. Toward the dead meat she went, to eat her fill. No wolves were nearby, but she could smell them here. A wonder she could not see them. Ah. Perhaps they ran off. It would not be the first pack she forced to move.

The wolf was chased off, the bear went about her business, and Tomahawk saw no reason to involve herself in their scuffle (what little there had been). And yet... Tomahawk knew from her days as a loner that bears often meant scraps. When they killed, they killed big. The Dotharan kept her well-fed, of course, but Tomahawk's scavenging genes didn't simply disappear because she had been raised by wolves. And so, she followed at a safe distance, allowing the bear plenty of breathing room. Hopefully, the large beast would lead her to food which she could steal once the bear had eaten her fill.