Wolf RPG

Before he departed from the Sunspire, Charon could not help but take a look at what mountain areas lay east of the Sunspire. He'd already seen a lake that looked like it would look great up close when he had explored the Sunspire, and now Charon had gone to explore it himself. His walk was still stiff and wounds visible -- small scrapes across his body, and larger scabby areas around his right shoulder and back -- as he made his way over towards Arrow Falls through the mountains. He heard the roar of the mountain waterfall and it reminded him of home; of Shield maiden falls.

The sun illuminated his wounds as the young Stavanger Bay Beta made his way up towards the waterfall's top, and once he reached it -- though he stayed at a safe distance, for his fight with Dante had made him more wary -- Charon looked down, always happy to see one of nature's beautiful displays.

With the intention of spending a day or so out away from the hollow and its contents, Mordecai had set out to gain a better sense of the land around them. Part of it was simply to ascertain that there were no other packs nearby that he had wondered after, and another part of it was simply to gain a foothold of where the herds meandered off to. And in truth, there was much of the broad valley that he had not explored. It called to him, and like an inkling desire to discover, he had willingly risked the venture out to see what unfolded.

He made good time across the broad swath of varying terrain, taking in the sights as though he were nothing more than a tourist. And in some sense, that was exactly what the Ostrega truly was. He skirted past the northern forests that more than likely belonged to the wolves of Bearclaw and continued west, back towards the mountains that he and his merry band of growing followers had come across weeks ago.

And midst it all, he was drawn to the larger and more majestic of waterfalls that stood out through the rise of foothills. At it's peak, the rushing waters that tumbled downward were even above the forestry in the foothills. These particular installations fascinated him, though truly waterfalls were nothing that he hadn't seen before. Still, their inception tugged at curiosity deep within him. As he drew closer to the base where those waters met with the lake well behind him, Mordecai slowed to a stop to admire the sound, and felt the mist greet him.

Charon decided to try and make his way down, at least by a little bit, to see what the falls looked like from the bottom. This had seemed like a good idea up until the point he actually started doing it; his body protested, the wounds still sore and his muscles stiff from the exertion. He made it some ways down and looked up at what he had travelled down so far.

When he looked down again, Charon suddenly noticed a familiar shape. The hairs at the back of his neck pricked up; not so much because he cared little for his uncle, but because his uncle was one of Dante's followers. His shoulder and back still displayed the ugly wounds that Dante had sown, and the rest of his body was not without its marks (although they would heal in time) at the moment.

The young Beta simply observed his uncle, keeping a close eye on him to make sure that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Tail lashed tensely behind him as he could no longer quite enjoy the scenery, absorbed into his caution.

And Mordecai, however, remained oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.

Instead the tawny Ostrega continued to pace against the flow from the confines of the muddy bank, taking in all that was within his decidedly narrow view. There were many questions that bubbled up in lieu of company, but he knew just as well that he would not find the answers to the mystery of a waterfall. Though he was tempted to make a scale of the rise to find if streams lied above that ran their course, Mordecai did not consider himself much of a mountain climber. Once upon a time, perhaps, but since Silvertip he did not venture to higher climes readily. There was little necessity in doing so, barring having to cross them.

A sigh escaped him as he lost interest in the scenery briefly; his thoughts pulled him in another direction altogether as he cast a look back towards the path he had come. He could not linger here too long if he intended to make decent time back, and was honestly surprised he hadn't been followed out for some adventure. The perception of solitude he found there did not unsettle him, not that he had anything against the friendly sorts within the Hollow. But in his mind already there was far too much to do, and the narrow road towards winter lingered ready on his mind.

Charon observed his uncle as he just looked around and seemed to observe his surroundings. He wondered if Mordecai had yet seen him, but it looked like he hadn't so far. It was strange to find him all the way out here -- his precious Plateau was all the way on the other side of the Sunspire mountain ridge, after all. Feeling dark and broody, the yearling watched his uncle as he looked towards the east. Perhaps he was on his way somewhere? None of it made sense much.

Eventually it was Charon's impatience and curiosity that gained the upper hand as he forced his stiff, painful body down the rest of the path that lead up the falls. He'd probably regret this when he'd have to go all the way up again, but those thoughts were far from his mind at the moment. "What're you doing here?" Charon asked with a growl, his tail flicking in warning and tension as he approached his uncle. The hairs in his neck stood on end and he looked clearing on edge, eyebrows wrought into a dark frown as he stayed at a safe distance from the Plateau wolf.

Nothing materialized magically from the glen beyond him, and Mordecai was just as content to begin his debate of crossing the winding waterway. It was broad like a river, yet shallow enough he was inclined to call it some sort of a flowing lake. Surely there was some terminology for it, but it eluded him. Then again, he was just as inclined to believe that maybe there wasn't a specific word for it.

Either way, those thoughts were laid to rest swiftly when a grumbling, growing voice reached out of the depths behind him. His head turned faster than the recognition came to him, but it came just as swiftly. Charon. Only, Charon looked downright awful in places; concern fluttered across his face just as much as a certain tension arose in him.

"What happened to you?" he asked instead. Though it were obvious he had been involved in some sort of a disagreement, Mordecai was surprised of the outcome.

Charon was surprised by the concern that flitted across Mordecai's face, if he recognised it correctly. Was this an elaborate act of some sort, where he attempted to lure Charon into thinking that he knew nothing about all of this? Charon did not stop to think about it for long. While he did not look like he was going to attack his uncle, his displeasure and anger was written clearly upon his face.

"Your Alpha happened to me," Charon said with narrowed eyes. He didn't pay attention to the fact he didn't smell Dante anywhere on Mordecai, too focussed on his anger to give his uncle a good once-over or sum up the facts, really. Last time he'd seen his uncle he'd been a part of Dante's pack, so in Charon's mind that meant he still was.

No wonder there was distaste evident in his countenance; his single statement carried a weight that could have meant many things, though Mordecai did not pluck a single one as the reason. "Former Alpha," he corrected, "I left weeks ago." Though he was not the only one who had left, those were details that he did not see fit to air yet.

Still, it surprised him to learn that Dante had done such a thing. Nary a doubt crossed his mind that Charon was lying to him — though they did not have the best relationship, Mordecai felt his statement were straight from the truth. Charon did not dance around or sugarcoat how he felt. He asked again: "What happened?"

It surprised Charon that his uncle Mordecai had left Blacktail Deer Plateau a while ago. In Charon's mind he'd been a part of it since forever, and Charon wondered what had made his uncle leave it. This was no disclosed though, and while Charon was curious about the reasons he was also very self-centered and therefore elaborating about the fight with Dante was higher on the yearling's priority list.

"We fought because Dante is a self-righteous asshole," Charon said, his face wrought into a sneer. "He attacked me and I didn't want to back down. I just wanted to teach him a lesson." While that didn't go over all that well, at least he had also taken some of Dante's face - and hopefully dignity - so it wasn't a completely wasted effort. It was just a shame that he'd got off with quite a few wounds himself.

Charon was curious where Mordecai lived now, but he didn't ask just yet, figuring that maybe his uncle would bring it up himself.

Perhaps for the breadth of Charon's life, Mordecai had been apart of the Plateau at length. In a way, he had, as his original intentions had only been to stay out the winter with them. But a few weeks had given away into months, and Mordecai had slowly become one of them in essence. Yet to the older Ostrega, he had never truly been apart of the pack. Though he had always been willing to aid them and work for them, Mordecai knew full in well that he had been an outlier in their midst more than he had been at the forefront of anything. A confidant, a friend, one that that they had accepted apart of them.

And he supposed in some sense he had betrayed that for branching out on his own. Yet natural law often did that, the urge to disperse and justify those selfish reasons — at least when the wolf in question did not pose a threat — drove a fierce wedge between them all. But it was water beneath the bridge, or so he had been willing to believe. The revelation that Charon had been the one attacked did not sit well with him, though Mordecai found just an inkling of doubt lingering. He had no solid reason to doubt what he was being told, but understood that he only had one side of the story. There was no telling what had transpired in full, as he was wont to find out.

But his shoulder sagged slightly; his brow furrowed indescribably.

"Why did you have to teach him a lesson? Did he just attack you out of the blue?" He didn't agree with the notion of teaching a lesson, but then again once upon a time in his life he would have probably done the same. Perhaps even now, if pushed far enough, he would resort to the same response. "And your wounds, have they been looked after?" He was willing to think that they had, somehow, though Mordecai could not think of who would tend to him. He didn't see Dante letting Blue Willow do it if such a spat went down near the Plateau, and yet Charon was miles upon miles away from it. He was even further from the Bay.

"Teach him not to mess with me," Charon said, eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled Dante. Dante had always been making fun of him, and Charon had just had enough. He didn't deserve to be teased like some little kid, like Dante always had. Mordecai asked for more information, and Charon felt suspicious, wondering if his uncle would judge him if he found out that Charon had told Dante off for not finding Osprey. At the same time, Charon was hesitant to share this information because maybe it'd make Mordecai feel failed in regards to Osprey, too. Neither of them had found her, after all.

"They were washed," Charon said, glancing back at his shoulder even though he could barely see the wounds on his back and shoulder himself. "Anyway, Dante's always been treating me like I'm just some snotty kid. We talked about Osprey and he got mad." Charon decided not to disclose the exact conversation. It didn't matter, anyway. The core of the problem was Dante's obvious attitude problem, not Osprey's disappearance, even if that's what had triggered their fight. "Where'd you move?" Charon asked out of the blue; while he enjoyed ripping on Dante in any conversation, he also wanted to know where his uncle lived now.

Had the situation been any different, Mordecai may have found the urge to laugh at the notion that Charon did not see himself as the snotty kid. He was snotty, but he was also far from a child now. If anything, Mordecai knew he was old enough to be held accountable for his actions and at any rate, he supposed there was something in there that justified Dante lashing out: Osprey. It was not the sort of thing that he agreed with, but that also rested on the edge of the fact that Charon was family. They shared the same blood and rightfully so, Mordecai felt the necessity weigh in that he needed to look out for him. So when the premise of a subject change came up, he also took that path with a sort of inward eagerness. Anything to steer away from yet another piece of history that was better left to rot and shift to dust.

"Further east than here, down into the valley," Mordecai explained, casting his attention back towards his previous venture. "Myself and another, we claimed it, along with some followers." His answers may have been vague, but if nothing else he would have reckoned them to whet Charon's interest and further steer their conversation away from Dante. He thought for a moment to tell him of Andalusia, but withheld for favor of having interest in his nephew. "My co-leader is a healer, if you'd like I could have her look after your wounds if they're bothering you." Of course, it may have been a little too late for that as well; he wasn't entirely blind to the fact that they had started to close up and heal.

As per usual, uncle Mordecai seemed almost stoic in regards to the events that happened. Charon wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he didn't push it too much. He didn't often know what to make of his uncle, who wasn't as expressive and straight-forward as Charon himself was. Mordecai asked if Charon wanted his wounds tended, but Charon shook his head.

"I don't have time for that, unless it's like, right next door," Charon said. "I gotta get home to tell them the news." And anyway, Thistle was a healer too, so he could always have her take another look at it once he got home, in case it'd go bad. The wounds looked decent enough though, for as far as Charon could tell; at least they'd been cleaned.

He was not perturbed by the fact that Charon declined his offer, and as it were, the Hollow was not really a place that he considered right next door. But Mordecai did not get a word in edgewise to confirm or deny that, as a much more intriguing note came forth from the freckled maw of his nephew. And for a moment, Mordecai almost silenced the question that pressed itself to the tip of his tongue, but... had that been a note of some other premise? It was rife with the usual tone he associated with Charon, and that was impatience.

"Unfortunately, my pack isn't that close, but... what news?" He let the question out, ears turning slightly with unmasked curiosity. Perhaps Charon was keen on going back home and informing that he had taken and given blows against Dante — Mordecai dispelled that, because on what grounds? Why was he wandering around in the mountains, anyway? If the healing wounds of his shoulders were anything to note, Mordecai imagined he hadn't just come out of the fight. Time had elapsed, and he had yet to meet a wolf who healed magically overnight.

Charon almost assumed he had to have told uncle Mordecai about his plans, but when the question came forth he realised he must not yet have. "What's your pack called, anyway?" he asked, though his words were rigged with impatience; like he didn't really care for the answer much, but wanted to know it anyway in case he'd ever look for his uncle in the future.

"Stavanger Bay is small and winter's coming. When I got hurt, I ran into Amekaze from the Sunspire, and they've got the same problem. Me and Ame decided to merge our packs together and find a strong territory to survive the winter in." A confident smile fell over Charon's face as he said this, clearly very pleased with his future Alphaship. He didn't literally say he was going to be one of this new pack's Alphas, but it was evident from his demeanor that there were benefits in it for him.

Another question fired off and Mordecai was swift to answer to sate Charon's impatience. "Lost Creek Hollow. It's a couple of hours to the east of here, at the base of a smaller valley." Though his nephew hadn't asked how to get there, Mordecai did not hesitate to tell him. If anything, this was the longest conversation he felt he had with Charon... and one that did not go badly.

Beyond that, he listened as the yearling delved into what would be coming for him in the next few weeks, if that at all. Mordecai was surprised with what was being said, but perhaps he was surprised that Charon had consented to the suggestion at all. To think that there was some bone in his body that was surprisingly cooperative may not have at all been a stretch after all. Then again, it did not surprise him to see the will and reasoning that was there — it made sense. It was a decision that even he would have stood behind.

And to think further, that some thought he was a leader. Sure, Mordecai could don the crown and wear the cloak just as well as the next fellow. But not all Ostregas were natural leaders and here, he did not dispute whether or not Charon was or wasn't. He was and if nothing else, he had the ambition that his uncle did not carry. "That's quite an undertaking," he commented. "But I wish you both luck. I've met a few wolves from the Spire, and they seem like a hardy bunch." A pause lingered then, something more he wanted to say evident in his mannerisms.

"I won't hold you up any longer, but, could I offer you a suggestion when you look for a territory? Whatever you claim, find a good forest to go with it. It will keep you all warmer when winter comes, and the game will hang around it too." Another proverbial leap of faith, as for all he knew, Charon was already considering such. Yet it was his attempt and trying to offer something more than a statement of luck and well wishes.

Charon mentally mapped the name and location of Lost Creek Hollow, though he didn't know if he'd ever need it. But in case he did, it was better to be prepared. His uncle seemed somewhat excited for the idea of the new pack — well, as excited as uncle Mordecai was ever going to get, anyway — and even knew some of the Spire's wolves, apparently. There was a moment in which it was as though Mordecai was going to say more, but then he didn't.

Mordecai offered a suggestion, and where Charon might've snippily declined or responded in sarcasm to such a peace offering months ago, now the yearling nodded and accepted it as it came. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." He looked up the waterfall and decided it was time to head back, rest up a little bit and then head out towards the Bay to inform his wolves. "See you 'round." He turned towards the rocky path that lead up the side of the falls and started to climb it back up. His pace was slow and movements stiff and pained, but he wasn't going to let his healing wounds stop him from reaching Stavanger Bay as soon as possible to start his new life.

And for the first time in their known existence of one another, they had an exchange go well. It left mixed emotions in Mordecai, who only returned a nod in lieu of parting words. He would not hold up Charon any longer, though there was a part of him that wished he could have. But what would he have said? He found it hard to establish that level ground of communication with him, as though there were truly something that held him back from forcing the effort. He felt inclined to blame Verrine, though that wasn't right. He knew little of what had become of his brother, and given the end result that had become of Charon's mother, he had reasons to believe that Verrine had met the same end.

Tangents aside, as he retreated from those thoughts and watched Charon's form disappear behind the rocky precipices, Mordecai brought his gaze to level out with the world around him. He weighed the option of going back to the Hollow before ultimately deciding against it. Instead he lingered there for some time, this time not bothered by another. And then at the drop of a hat he ventured on as though he intended to return home. But going back home was not at the forefront of his mind — he too, had winter to think of. And this time, he also had a pack to think of. Studying the herds of the plains and valleys would serve him well.