A glacier rose like an ethereal, glowing rock from the sea where it towered in the nearby distance, seen from the edge of the Ridge. The view it offered was something that a more creative creature might have considered to be magnificent or something to a similar effect. Semet was not that creative sort and thus considered only what kind of hunting it offered. He saw little use for the ridge itself aside from getting a good view of potential herds; he turned from it soon after his fiery red-orange gaze swept over it once more and fixated his attention upon the thriving forest and evergreens in the distance. He shrugged into the foliage, ducking his head to avoid a low hanging evergreen branch before he paused, lowering his head towards the earth to sniff at the dead pine needles and litter that covered the forest floor. The forest would provide shelter against any potential elements heading his way, and, if he was lucky, would offer him some woodland creatures he could hunt to fill his belly when his hunger awoke once more.
To the east he'd caught the scent of a nearby pack, with a slight tint of familiarity to the scent, though he could not immediately place it. He'd been tracking Gavriel's scent — mixed as it was with Vercingetorix and Seregrýn's scents. They had made it this far, at least. If they had found Heda Semet could not say for certain, but first his goal was to catch up with his childhood friend. From there, he could make the next move and decide what happened next. The snap of a twig nearby caused his head to rise, ears to swivel attentive atop his skull, hackles to bristle and his lip to lift ever so slightly in a physical warning as his fiery red-orange eyes scanned the landscape around him, attempting to discern if the sound was a threat or simply a nearby woodland creature.
this post is absolute crap. i had an idea of where i was going & i was pulled away half way through the first paragraph and lost what i was originally going to write. ;-;
Warbone was not trying to sneak, crushing littered earth beneath churlish paws, and he was unaware of the other wolf himself, but he had come into earshot at the exact moment he could finally scent another in the vicinity. The stranger stood upwind of him, and he lifted his muzzle curiously as he went, coming upon the defensively bristling wolf almost blindly. Warbone blinked, forepaw raised mid-step as he gazed towards the onyx male with eyes like a foraging fire. His ears pressed forward, and he remained still about ten feet away, wondering if he was dealing with a mere startled wolf or a truly violent one. He feared neither, but the traveling member of Sleeping Dragon was not explicitly looking for a fight.
The sound was given an origin as the agouti, earthen colored male came to fall within Semet's fiery gaze, pupils narrowing as he sniffed at the air, cautious, the sleek muscles beneath his coat pulled taunt as he hindered upon flight or fight. Semet knew that picking a fight with another wolf, one that struck him as large and burly — though there was at least a good ten feet between them so it hard to discern how similar or different their sizes were — was not the wisest of decisions. He was a lone wolf and his strength had a higher purpose, reserved as it was for his hunting and travels. Putting food in his belly and seeking shelters was more important than tussling with strangers and it was this logic that kept him from charging at the other. Yet, he did not seek to flee, either. After all, he'd been here first — or thus Semet assumed but the truth was he had no proof of that.
For a long moment he observed the other, sniffing at the breeze when it picked up between them, tussling the silken tendrils of Semet's fur back along with it, like the gentle caress of a lover's fingers. There was a familiarity to the male's scent, though the male himself was inherently a stranger. He smelled like the pack to the west of Frostfire Ridge...and thought the idea seemed impossible almost like Thuringwethil. He was not sure where his Heda had fled after her destruction of those unloyal to her within Seageda. Semet did not make to close the distance, instead let out “Heda.” in his gruff voice, not used often but effective for inquiring what he could not communicate through body language. Would this beast recognize the title of Thuringwethil? Semet did not know but he knew Heda's scent; and he trusted his intuition above all else.
Even though Warbone's player is entirely unsure of whether or not he's heard the term before, Warbone acts like he has anyway. The wolf blinked once, his tail beginning to wave slowly in mild amusement. Her followers were coming out of the woodworks. He nodded finally, and then gestured over his shoulder. "She is alpha of the smoking mountain," he informed the stranger, free with information if only because he felt confident enough to defend it. If this wolf came with ill will towards the one he addressed as Heda, then Warbone would deal with it accordingly. "Sleeping Dragon to some. Drageda to others." His exact tone could not be identified, but he obviously held no reverence for the name.
And since he was always forthcoming, he naturally expected this of others even if it was unlikely he should receive it. So he asked, without worry for a lie: "why do you seek her?" He was quiet then, and the only move the earthy wolf had made so far was to set his paw down. He was cautious not to provoke this wolf, knowing very well his slightest movements could seem unfortunately threatening.
Fire fueled gaze flickered in the direction at which the stranger gestured, coming to rest upon the towering peak in the distance, his gaze surveying it for a contemplative moment before his gaze fell back upon the other male as he began to speak. He spoke that Heda was the alpha of the mountain he had gestured to seconds before. It was curious but it did not truly surprise Semet. Thuringwethil was Heda; choosen by the spirit of the Commander to lead her people and those that would become her people. That she had started anew here was little more than what Semet would have expected from her. “Drageda,” Semet mimicked in a low, gruff murmur to himself. Yes, that sounded about right.
A question followed, falling from the other male's lips, causing Semet's charcoal ears to cup forth, attentive. “kom seakru,” Semet explained but then offered in common tongue, “She is my Heda. I am loyal to her.” To her, and to the commander(s) that would surely come after her. This was the way of their people, this was the very foundation of their culture and Semet would not be the one to break it. Always, he was loyal to the Commander; and truly it was as simple as that.
Warbone nodded faintly, his thoughts turning to Thuringwethil and the spread of her influence. He knew there was a reason he had gravitated to her, and even though he did not trust her judgement over his own, she was someone he saw worth in protecting. Someone he could come to care about in the manner of her Drageda loyalists that were coming forth like bears out of hibernation. He blinked slowly, looking around, and then back towards the dark male. "When should I tell her to expect you?" he asked the wolf with the burning eyes, his own stony gaze flashing expectantly as he licked his chops.
Silence fell over them — the Rauna and the Drageda male — though Semet did not deign to be the first to break it. He had, essentially, gotten the information he had sought. He'd confirmed Thuringwethil's — and by extension the Fos Goufa and Gavriel's — presence established in these Wilds. In silence Semet found comfort. He was a beast of self made isolation: yet it played to his purpose as Seageda's scout. The grounder leeched of what he'd been taught since his birth had made him weak was nothing short of efficient. He had few friends but many enemies. Enemies of Heda were enemies of him. A question was posed, and there was a brief flick of Semet's tail as he assessed Warbone once more. “Soon.” These Wilds were too new to him; and his lack of information about them were nothing short of concerning to Semet.
He assumed that The Commander would understand that he did not immediately seek her out: for he wanted to be a reliable source for her, as he'd always been. He'd known Thuringwethil since the day she had been born into the world, had been friends with her older brother for longer. They were no strangers, and Semet was who he was, and he would not appear before Heda without getting his bearings on these foreign lands.
Soon. Not noncommittal answer, but Warbone was not a wolf overly concerned with details. He nodded once, good enough, and then thought to ask only one more relevant question before he would leave the soot-bound male to his own devices. "And by what name does she know you by?" He figured— in the language they use, whatever it was called— that his name might be different from the title by which she knew him. Just as they referred to her as Heda, he could be something like that too. His own name wasn't a secret, and he was honest to anyone who thought to ask (which was rare in itself), but he introduced himself as Warbone anyway, which had a similar context behind it as the term they used for superiority.
The copper wolf canted his head lightly.