Returning from the north, Haunter found himself side-tracked before reaching the Creek. He was neither eager nor in a rush to return "home", so to say he was side-tracked would be a bit of an over-statement. The inky wraith was more or less exploring—not the curious type, but prone to nosy behavior nonetheless. He found himself on the opposing side of a mountain that was closest to Fox's land, and his eyes were immediately stricken by how different it looked when compared to the other side.
In winter, most things looked the same, but while there were trees and thin precipices dotting the normal half of the mountain, this side was completely flat and sleek, as if beneath all the now it had been totally stripped of life, shape, and original form. Haunt couldn't have known that an avalanche and subsequent fire had done this—not at this time of the year—but it wasn't as if he were exactly the type to care either.
The long-legged wolf padded along in the mountain's shadow, feeling the cold wind rush down from it and not minding as it crept through his shaggy, unkempt fur. He was glad for gray clouds covering the sun, because he knew when late spring and summer arrived, he would be plagued by the heat again. He was enjoying the chill for now.
She had forgotten the excitement that packlife could bring, or rather she had never experienced it while within her prior home. What transpired since coming to the Vale was nothing short of test to the senses and will, as well as what one could manage when under the pressure of duty. There had been the excitement of the chase when a trespasser entered their midst. The psychological strain of having to mend a broken form. And of course the hormonal effects as spring came on its rise, turning normally composed individuals into creature driven only by their most basic instincts. One might call it desperation, but she would call it madness of the spring.
And there were many more events, she could foresee, yet to befall the wolves of the Vale. Let alone herself. She only hoped her inner strength would allow her to see it through with her sense of self intact.
But rather than dwell in doubt for the day, she chose instead an activity that brought her relief. As opposed to staring at the mountain peaks, she thought it best to scale them and have for herself a gander at the winter stripped lands below. It was a contrast to the lush haven of the Vale, one she took pride in each time she thought of her home. On the other side of the peaks, she spied the barren branches of lone trees, the prints of fodder herded together as they walked the open grounds for vegetation to consume and water to drink. She was able to taste the crispness of the air, and with it the aroma of her home rolling over the snowcapped tops and down again into the basin of the mountain. And she followed it, her steps skilled and careful upon the mountain face. Few stones turned underpaw, but those that did rang out with the sharp cries of their freedom, rolling from their impressive heights to the unforgiving ground below.
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Not much was going on in Haunter's head—as was the norm; lacking personal interest on dwelling on past events—so it stood to reason that he was particularly aware of his surroundings, and was quick to notice when another wolf had entered the nearby proximity. This scent was strangely though vaguely familiar, but he could not place when or where he had crossed it before, so in the interest of quelling his gently pressing curiosity, he began to lope in the origin's direction in seek of an immediate answer.
But the closer he came, the more his spine began to prickle in slow realization of his familiarity with the smell, and before he could remember his trespassing "adventure", he could see her in the near distance. The bearish female—just as tall as he, but with at least a good twenty to thirty pounds on him—from Northstar Vale, and he paused with wicked uncertainty, prepared for her to hold a grudge despite the fact that he barely remembered her himself.
There were many yards between them still, but Haunter made no move to either antagonize or avoid the Vale's defender, and he stood rigidly to see what she would do. His one ear was perked intently, and his muzzle was angled towards her, making him appear interested but incredibly wary as he waited. Idly, his tail hung against his legs, slowly licking back and forth like a dark pendulum.
Reaching the base of the mountain awarded her the unique pleasure of scenting the earth at its roots. To her nostrils, it always seemed richer than above, though she was unaware that it was the warmth of the earth that made it so. She was a being of and with the essence of nature, lost within a quiet rapture til her nose was graced by a familiar, known scent.
Her ears pricked to attention as her nose quivered inquisitively then turned in a general direction of the scent. By the glance of her peripheral did she spy the origin of the scent; towering black laden with the musk of the creek and the heaviness of the mountain that suggested travel. And as her bi-colored eyes fully rested on her spectator, recognition sparked their hues to life. The serene state kept prior replaced by curiosity. She remembered the male vividly, for it was that dark hide she had run into whilst in her home. The same obsidian pelt that shielded his brethren from the wrathful jaws of the two that had pursued her.
“Hello?” she woofed softly, her brows receded as if genuinely surprised to see the male here. It was a little ways to the creek from the mountain.
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"Hello?" Was this a question? He didn't respond, perhaps confused by the context of her singular word, but the one-earred wolf was interested in her geniality, so took a few steps closer. His head was now level to his shoulders, and his eyes shone warily, with no kindness to speak of, but he was not afraid of the immense female and would be civil as long as she was. He momentarily observed her thick tawny coat, blazed tenderly like the leaves before winter, and when his acid-yellow eyes returned to her face, he could see that her eyes did not quite match one another.
A thought played in the back of his mind, where Jinx had told him to cause as much trouble with this particular wolf's pack as he could, but then he thought better of it, considering that it hadn't yet been long enough since their last skirmish which he had almost unwillingly gotten himself involved in. Still, he was incredibly prepared be at war with this female, despite her seeming lack of want for the same thing. He imagined that he could not trust her face, no matter how innocently neutral it appeared.
Though he thought to mention the Northstar "invasion" in some way, he secondly thought better of it, and instead settled on other words. (And even then, he was only speaking because she had first.) "I am not looking for trouble this afternoon," he rasped, perhaps idiotically, as she hardly seemed the type to instigate despite her size.
For those of the Vale that knew of their warrior, Xi’nuata was the epitome of sincerity in the most naked of forms. Thoughts of deception were absent from her mind, telling lies- even a small one-was an act she considered disgraceful to herself. They knew her as a creature of truth be it in word or expression, regardless of the nature or context it was received. But was worth trust, though there inlaid the issue toward others. She did not understand why another might find her disposition worth their skepticism, but then she lived in a world where one’s intentions rested on their paws. Or so she believed.
Her brows knitted at his words, finding them unnecessary given the ground they stood upon. Briefly she thought back to their first encounter in the Vale. He had certainly fallen into trouble then and it was by the mercy of both warriors that the rest of the pack had not descended on the trespassing pair. He had not crossed into the mountain haven today, so there was no cause for fearing the worse. “Oh,” she voiced carefully, attempting to raising her raspy chords just above their comfortable whisper. “That’s good. Though I would suggest being careful on the mountain.” She extended her muzzle to the jagged ridge. “You might get into trouble if you lose your footing. Or worse- stuck on a ledge.” Recalling this, she remembered fondly how Ariston had been rendered immobile on a bluff. A lone white cloud upon the mountain separated from its likeness. It made for an interesting image, if not a silly one as well. She smiled slightly at the memory then let her eyes rest on the dark male’s muzzle. She caught just a glimpse of his spring yellow eyes before continuing with an offer.
“If you intend to cross, I could guide you. They are not my home, but I know these mountains quite well.”
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Haunter had never been good at deception. He saw no reason for it himself, but had come across many wolves who found it amusing and gratifying in some way—hence his mistrust, though the large female had hardly given him reason to be suspicious. She seemed an honest wolf, just as he, albeit of a slightly different outlook and perception. The black wraith again took a few steps closer so that he could better hear her, noting that her voice was as raspy as his own, but considerably quieter in tone.
The auburn-caped female thought it wise to advise the Creeker about the mountain looming beside them and even offered to show him safe passage upon its crags. He considered that because he lived on relatively flat land now, that she was incorrectly assuming he would be inexperienced when mountain-climbing. "I was born and lived for the better part of two years on a mountain—far more cold and treacherous than the ones here," he shared about himself, for perhaps the first time since arriving in the area.
He didn't feel he needed any help, especially from her of all wolves, but Haunter was neither insulted nor off-put by her offer. In fact, the quickest way to learn the lay of a particular land was to have one show you. He shrugged slightly and then motioned his muzzle towards the mountain, offering for her to lead the way. "I would like to know what you know about this peak," he said at length, but in compliance with his honesty and typically unfriendly behavior, he added: "but if you threaten me, I'll throw you from one of the precipices or be thrown myself in the struggle."
Given their initial brief, and incidentally heated encounter, she would have taken no offence from the male had he chosen not to take her offered paw. Experience had shown that even the sensible could be ruled by a grudge, and though she too could be swayed by it, she tried her hardest not to live such a way. Regard one’s actions in the moment rather than carry it onward into the future. Though there were some instances better remembered than forgotten.
Admittedly she was surprised by his acceptance, having learned that he too was raised on a terrain much like this. Regardless of the severity, no mountains were without their challenges when scaling the unknown.
Smoothly she turned with the intention to guide him but paused suddenly when the last of his retort bent her ears. The fur of her nape bristled and lips shuddered slightly as they clenched tighter. Given the trespass he and his companion had committed on her territory, she was being quite lenient if not kind in offering a chance of redemption and perhaps a blank slate. Rather than bite her reply, she breathed deeply through flared nostrils and in turn took a step forward to begin their crossing.
“I will be mindful not to let you fall in the struggle,” she huffed softly over her shoulder, then crouched down but a little before springing for an adjacent rock to grip underpaw. “This way. Mind the slope.”
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Haunter was no grudge-holder. He had long since learned that no day was promised to any wolf and so he lived on the basis that if he were to suddenly perish—by fight, accident, or otherwise—he would have wanted to perish without residual hatred bore deep in his soul. Not that he believed in any sort of afterlife, he simply thought it useless to harbor emotions when everything, every part of his existence could abruptly be gone in an instant. Even now, he could hardly remember the wolf who had taken his ear or the one who had scarred his leg, and if he were to meet them today, he would be indifferent to their presence unless they challenged him again.
He was as glad as he could be about her seeming disregard for earlier indiscretions, though he had apparently struck a small chord with his impolite words. Haunter remembered now why he often stayed quiet; and it was because his usually vicious disposition would often show itself in words he almost always regretted. But true to his nature he soon forgot his own mistake, and regarded the back of the large female with careful neutrality as she rebuffed him (albeit in a decidedly much kinder fashion) and then began to lead the way up.
Long legs took him easily after her, coming much closer to her on the narrow path than he otherwise would've liked, but he no longer felt much discomfort in her proximity. He would never go as far to say that he trusted her, but he was confident enough in his own abilities to know that he would survive her should she prove his suspicions right. "My name is Haunter," he rasped after a small bout of silence, dutifully following her and imitating all her careful movements as if he were her black shadow.
Her mind was on the mountain as she made quick work of its graduated slopes, until they came to the natural ‘steps’ along its face. It was here that the woman looked back to her follower, marking first the state of his paws with an inquisitively arched brow then raised her sights to glance for the first time at his eyes. More to gain his attention than challenge him. Had there been an ulterior motive she would have expressed it long before reaching the pocked path ahead of them.
Rather than share aloud what he needed to do to cross the narrow way, she led by example with a quick bound for an open flat setting jutting slightly. There was only enough space from the rock wall to rest just a moment before taking another surface within reach. The small tuff of a bush made it difficult to see, but by her successful touchdown, she proved that indeed there was something to land on. Again, she crouched a little before springing to another surface, then continued in rhythmic progression several times until all four paws fell firmly on more stable ground.
“I am Xi’nuata,” she announced once her mind was no longer fixed on the mountain and she was able to release a calming breath. However sure-footed she felt on the mountain, there was nothing to diminish the danger of crossing… nor blank from her mind the very real possibility of falling.
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When she looked at him, he noticed what he had noticed before about her eyes, but this time it was not only because they were at close quarters, but because he was actually studying her features this time. He could tell that her eyes were indeed mis-matched, one darker than the other and yet they were both equally beautiful. He had never cared much for eye color but hers was unique in a way that was subtle, borderline plain but with a twist.
After a series of bounding steps up the zig-zagging mountainside, she finally introduced herself as Xi'nuata. This involuntarily made him think of Tuwawi and if they had received their names through similar customs. He didn't know enough about his packmate to ask Xi'nuata anything about her name, so instead remained silent and nodded once to confirm that her name had now been committed to his memory—however short-term this tended to be at times.
His yellow eyes traveled upwards, and he licked his chops thoughtfully as he remembered Hollow Mountain and its bountiful rams. He had spent so much time chasing them up and down his jagged and forsaken birthplace, that he no longer feared any mountain path or seemed to think about the risk of falling. Where Xi'nuata was carefully sure-footed, Haunter was reckless and trusted his own four paws to do what needed to be done and do it right the first time.
This wasn't to say he hadn't taken many spills, but having survived them all of his own volition and strength, he no longer held worry or care when he was climbing. The fact that his guide was so well-versed with these trails already only further helped his carelessness, given that he only had to imitate her to get his steps right. "Do you hunt up here, or come often?" he asked, vaguely curious as to why she was so familiar with a mountain not of the Vale's territory.
“If there are rams butting nearby then I will come hunt,” she breathed as she leapt for a lower rock. “Otherwise I wander here to pass the time.”
Without meaning to, the climb had become a kind of assessment by which the warrior was able to take more than just a face from the Creek wolf. His steps were quite sound, a mirror to her own, falling near seamlessly right after her own had been taken. Upon the mountains, she would have thought to have heard hesitation in his steps. Perhaps the clatter of stone as an uncertain paw shifted, or the break of rock as he applied a little too much weight in his bound. But no. It was very much the same as her own steps, as if he truly did not fear the jagged rocks below, or he was actual wise to the shape of the mountain and his following was little more than a game for his amusement. The latter thought did not sit well with her, but she thought it better than to assume without proof to go by.
Silently, she carried them further down the mountain til they rested on a ridge extending just above the plains. It was here that the woman folded down to her haunches and inspected a paw that had become a bother not a few minutes before. More than likely it was a tiny rock lodged in her pad somewhere. “Most find it difficult to hunt here,” she uttered softly, continuing their prior conversation before the lengthened pause. “But the reward is greater when caught. The meat is more tender and sweeter than deer.” She clipped at her paw but to no avail to dislodge the stone.
Leaving it be, she turned to Haunter and let her eyes rest on him seemingly for the first time. In the scrape in the Vale, she hadn’t noticed that one of his ears were missing. No doubt the adrenaline had done its work to mask anything that was not relevant to the situation. But seeing it now, she could not help but stare… almost admiring the unique tuff that remained til she thought it best to look away and survey the rest of his physique. She found a certain appeal in his appearance; large, like her, but was in her eyes defined by his legs as opposed to his bulk. Haphazard tuffs throughout his pelt made for a wild, unkempt coat donned across a formidable build. It was a body well suited for the warrior faction, without doubt. But for all she knew, he as indeed a part of something like it in the Creek.
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She explained that she would hunt here, but mostly came just to pass the time... which made Haunter wonder if there wasn't enough to do in the Vale for her to remain there. He might've commented, but then he remembered his constant and needless trips up to the coast and how he would be gone for several days in these stints. He could not judge Xi'nuata based on her trips—at least she kept closer to home than he tended to do.
Her choice of a resting place was a ridge comfortably big enough for both large wolves, and she reclined onto her to overlook what he assumed to be one of her more favored vantage points. She certainly seemed comfortable enough here, and Haunter didn't hesitate long before sitting near her, leaving enough space that if she suddenly turn violent, he would have a much-needed second to retaliate. Though somehow he thought that if she were going to be homicidal, she would've earnestly displayed the symptoms by now; and he would've afforded her the same courtesy. Despite his name, Haunter didn't actually have a sneaky personality.
He watched her, teeth incessantly digging into her paws at an itch or otherwise. In her distraction, his eyes traveled the long, sloping curve of her arched neck and firm spine. Her fur of gold, tan and red, curled and moved, disturbed here and there by the breeze coming down from the mountain. Despite the immediate impression of burliness that she gave, he now realized that she was unmistakably feminine—a woman of the mountains. He had realized this in watching her strong, meticulous steps up the jagged path, but he was only just now materializing the thought.
He was looking at the side of her face when she had finished with her paw, but cast his eyes out over the plains. He had chosen earlier not to respond to her words, and the distraction of studying her had only put the thoughts of hunting farther from his mind. Haunter didn't notice now that she was doing exactly what he'd been doing seconds ago, but he swung his muzzle towards her, eyes resting on her face, not quite her separately colored eyes. "Do you have a family in the Vale?"
In tending to herself, she hadn’t realized she was being thoroughly inspected by the dark male, but there was certainly no denying her own inquisition as he turned towards her and met her gaze. Her fur bristled slightly as a strange warmth crept into her muzzle from being caught. Like a pup caught in the midst of something they shouldn’t be doing, she ceased her open admiration and jerked her muzzle toward the open land before them.
“Thankfully, no,” she piped perhaps a little too high for her gruff chords. “There are only-“ she paused, coughing lightly to clear her throat before restarting. “There are only the wolves I protect and the sanctuary itself.” Any more than that, and she truly believed she would not have been able to enjoy the peace she found there in the Vale. The family she knew of brought only thoughts of bitterness and pain to a repairing soul. Betrayal was synonymous with the word, and it was doubtful it would be changing soon.
“And you?” As she breathed, she inhaled the musk of her neighbor coupled with the natural crispness of the air, and the hinting fragrance of coming spring. She would not have thought that another’s scent might accentuate nature’s subtle aroma. And yet there she was in repose, enjoying it in her own subtle way by leisurely curl of her tail. “Is there family in the Creek for you?”
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His singular ear twitched lightly, perhaps the only indication that he had noticed the change in the tone of her voice; the clearing of her throat and the quick return to normalcy confirmed it, though Haunter couldn't fathom why this had happened. Despite having caught her looking, he hadn't exactly seen it as such, oblivious to social cues as usual.
She had no family, besides her pack, which was well enough to Haunter, because he felt as if he were in the same proverbial boat as Xi'nuata; except, though he felt a sense of duty towards the Creek, he didn't consider them or anyone else his family. The inky phantom didn't know that she felt that family was a sort of stigma—just as he did—but the knowledge wouldn't likely have made him feel closer to her in any way (though now he might admit that he felt slightly relaxed in her presence.) He expected her to return the question, so shook his head immediately when she asked.
"My birth-family was unkind to me at a young age and I've never taken a mate, nor had any pups," he admitted, suddenly aware that this was the most detail he'd spoken about himself since arriving in Teekon. He wondered if his willingness to share was attributed to the fact that he didn't see or have the threat of seeing Xi'nuata daily. He shook off the thought, peering over the plains once more. "Family has never been important to me."
While her eyes remained forward to the sight of the land ahead, her ears were bent slightly to the side as she listened. She was always polite when another spoke of themselves, and she felt this instance was considerably important considering how the pair had initially met. If they could share a civil word, then perhaps there was hope for reconciliation. Any positive step was certainly worth the effort in her opinion. And as it was, the present company was conducive for a relatively comfortable setting. Admittedly she found herself relaxing, but remained mindful of whom she was near and where he hailed.
“I can understand that,” she offered in turn. There were too few that understood the burdens of family. But rather than elaborating she simply let the commonality set, not so much reveling as she was accepting this as a fact.
“But perhaps in time such thoughts will change,” she uttered more for herself but audibly so that Haunter could hear.
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Haunter didn't know how Xi'nuata could possibly understand his particular plight about family, but the wolf not quite used to conversation did not exactly realize that she was speaking generally rather than about his specific situation. He couldn't imagine that she'd gone through the same thing, but he was thankfully returned from his perplexed thoughts when she sought to mention the future, and how things could change.
He couldn't deny this, because a year ago today he would never have gotten so involved in a pack, or likely been accepted into one given his extremely volatile nature. He supposed another year and he would be
more different—perhaps even tame enough to
be a "family man". He grunted in agreement her thesis, bobbing his long muzzle in a subtle nod, but didn't otherwise make a verbal comment.
His ear twitched, and Haunter realized that not a single one of his muscles was tensed and ready to spring. It bothered him immensely. In fact, it bothered him so much at that dark wraith straightened his back and then slowly got on all fours again.
"I must cut your tour short," he told her, choosing not to look at her again, lest he be tempted to stay.
"Thank-you.. Xi'nuata," he added hesitantly, turning back the way they had ascended and loping down the ridges in a quick, sure-footed fashion. As was his nature, he did not turn back once to see the striking, noble mountain she-wolf that he left behind as he made his way casually towards the Creek.
Sorry to send him off like this! But I'm ready to have another thread whenever you are ;D
Indeed their time spent was short, but it was not without benefit. At least to the female. In speaking with the dark male, she had learned that there was at least a civil few in the whole of the Creek. Still, she was appalled at his open intrusion into her lands, but at the same time had given him respect for his actions to protect his companion, however foolish she had been. He was certainly loyal, that much she took from him. A male of few words beyond what need be spoken. Inquisitive yet reserved, and worth the patience endured for his company. And while she had only scratched the surface of his personal self, it was enough to satisfy her and grant her the belief (however in vain) that there was a similarity to build upon and could perhaps be used to bridge the relationship between the Creek and Vale.
Not to mention, even in that brief instance, she found his companion quite pleasant. Enough so that even in his departure, the mountain woman was left with the pale glimmer of a smile upon her muzzle.
[End]
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