Warbone rippled slowly in the direction of the Woods. It was there he would begin his search for the nest of the queen, but he was in no rush to fulfill his promise. He had circled these lands and didn't find himself entirely impassive towards its residence. Already he had met several tolerable wolves and been engorged by the maddening scent of a female in heat. He thought he might stay longer, if only to flex his prime in the midst of a place teeming with opportunity— bodies to defeat and bodies to befriend. Warbone did not consider himself capable of being a "friend" (in the traditional sense of the word), but close enough was his ability to remain placid. Though that was a mercurial choice at best, and he mildly supposed that his nonhazardous behavior made him a friend to those not touched by his wrath. What more did friends need besides the secure knowledge they're not about to be brutalized?
His musings, uncommon but not unfamiliar, lead him absentmindedly onto the abandoned peak segregated from the ranges west of it. He explored, rather than hunted, turning his nose (and his super soaker) on every tree that interested him. In the motions of his natural study, he forgot all about wanting friends, and returned to his imperial demeanor.
She made haste through the trees, travelling in the dusky hours when the weather was not too brisk. The rain that fell was easy enough to traipse through; it dampened her pelt but not her spirits, and puddled in her steps when she was lazy enough to let them slide deep within the mud. By the time she had reached the edge of the forest, where the brackish woodland gave way to a swath of valley, the girl was tired. She would not let her budding exhaustion to dampen her any further than she already was - and in distancing herself from the forest within the dead gray of night, she saw the outline of a mountain.
The mountain's silhouette loomed in the distance, and it called to her. Seregryn wound her way across the valley in fits and starts, pausing when a curious scent passed her by, or the wind shifted. She found nothing to indicate life aside from the new growths of spring - and time passed. The earth grew dense and impassible by her nimble paws, accustomed as they were to a life within Trigeda and not upon the hillside. Still, though, Seregryn wasn't going to be diminished by this challenge. She paused and watched the mountain, standing among the shale, and narrowed her crimson gaze at the immense shape of it; a spiteful thing, that look, filled with malice and defiance.
By morning, she vowed silently to reach the peak. Not many things played out the way the child wished, however, and this was one of them. Seregryn may have had faith in herself — as her tutors did — but faith was nothing compared to true skill. She was breathing heavily, tongue lolling out of one side of her pointed face, by the time she was made to collapse; the mountain would not win in the long run, but it was succeeding in proving itself to her now.
The cold mountain yawned as dawnlight crept over its face. The sun bathed every rock and tree— it watched as the diurnal eagerly took the place of the nocturnal— and the cycle of the light's life continued on ceaselessly. It did so without appreciation or even thought. Especially from a impassive creature like Warbone, a lone wolf who spared no concern or consideration for the general passage of time or the conveniences (or lack thereof) that attended a particular time of day. He was a beast that saw no difference from morning to midnight, and the variation of his actions never had anything to do with time of day. Weather, perhaps, but even this had a rarely seen affect on his mood.
He had found nothing of particular interest until a streak of movement caught the range of his vision, and he watched from a high distance as a wolf picked its way slowly, determinedly, towards the base of the peak. Warbone descended, preparing to intercept her, but whatever other intentions he might've had were lost in his unclear body language. He carried his tail tall, the rest of him tight and aligned as he made a beeline for the young female. A mere investigation by a crownless king.
The soft dawn light kissed the crimson markings of the raven-colored she-wolf. Her amber gaze was directed to and focused on the two wolves atop the looming mountain, and she stood silent as death in the cold. her tall stature and sleek body cast shadows across the ground, making her look even taller. She placed little weight on her cut paw, for she didn't want to infect the wound, much less did she want to split it back open. It was just scabbing over, but was still tender. She, at first, only saw the tan and black figure racing up the mountain, but she soon realized a large grey wolf racing towards her. Trouble...Not the she minded. She liked the taste of blood, but not innocent blood. She herself was in a vulnerable place, maybe two or three weeks away from heat, but there was no way she would not rush to battle if needed. A deep growl resounded in the depth of the woman's throat. Her scarlet and ebony fur glistened in the sunlight as her sleek muscles rippled from underneath her coat.
She neared the base of the mountain, watching as the grey male intercepted the female in her path and her gaze hardened. Who did he think he was? The male was a large male who must believe himself to be god enough to interrupt a stranger in her journeys. He was a quite handsome wolf though, and she had respect for his battle scars.
The girl was cowed for but a moment, her body level with the natural slope of her path; she rose up after resting there and sought a new route with her bright eyes. The higher she climbed the thinner her breath would become, although Seregryn did not know this yet, and she would soon feel waves of vertigo if she pushed herself harder.
Initially, upon surmising that she was still alone, the girl planned to slip between the nearest segment of tree line and continue her hike; but she got only a few paces before catching sight of movement. There was a silhouette descending towards her — and so the girl braced for impact, body tensing, while a practiced calm overwhelmed her. While Sere felt a bloom of indignation for having been discovered, she did not allow this to play across her pointed face. Let the stranger study her — he would learn nothing, and she could then gather more facts for herself.
Except that he was not alone. A second figure seemed to materialize from the shadows, this one harder to pick out among the woodland's crossing boughs. Seregryn kept her eyes trained upon the gray wolf who descended towards her, but her ears flicked in every direction, intent on pinpointing the location of this other — she would not allow herself to be ambushed. Her own blood would not spill today, but if they got too close, she was intent on keeping both strangers at bay.
Particularly intent on the first wolf he had noticed, Warbone was belated to realize that there was another near. Drawing up on the dark-pointed female, he hung back several feet for respect of her impassive defensiveness, but kept his tail lifted and waving as he silently sought permission to survey her closer. There was no hunt riling his blood, and no male challenging him. He was a wolf who felt inherit dominance towards the opposite sex, but he never felt the need to demonstrate it physically, and he feared no she-wolf, except for perhaps his long-deceased mother. Perhaps out of his innate respect for her, he kept a pretty lax demeanor when it came to dealing with the enigma of the feminine race.
That being said, he wasn't above feeling threatened by one— or in this case, two— as another she-wolf, this one all black and glorious red sheen, became visible. He followed the fawn youth's gaze, his own vitriolic eyes taking in the other with steady indifference. He held his position, wondering if the two were companions, but judging but the barely noticeable stiffness that had set tensely to the shoulders of the yearling in front of him, he doubted they shared any type of formality. All three were strangers.
So, in the accommodating mood he was presently in, the male introduced himself first: "Warbone."