Wolf RPG

 The white wolf walked along the border, murmuring to himself. He was reciting simple Russian terms, to insure he would never forget his roots. With every two steps he took, he whispered out another word. Always under his breath, as if someone was listening. But his ears had caught no sound apart from the usual rustle of the trees and his own deep voice.

"Меня зовут Orgin и я являюсь частью Лунная Hills обновления," he whispered as if if he was sharing a life long secret with the wind. Though, the wind seemed to blow in return, concluding his recital for the day. But Orgin lingered near the edges of his pack longer, as if he were waiting for something.

Her leg was mending better than she'd expected it to. Whatever plants Veritas had left inside the healer's den that Mitanni had chosen at random to assist her had done well enough in jump starting her recovery, and so far she'd been able to start getting up and going out again. She wasn't so recovered to fully return to her chosen duties as a scout, but she was well on her way and tested herself with the occasional border walk.

It wasn't so much a patrol as it was a stroll, but the lithe little female kept an ear out as she walked, her slight limp only partly visible at her current slow pace. As she listened, she thought she heard a voice, soft but still somehow gruff, up ahead of her, and her ears perked. Attention riveted ahead, Mitanni thought once about slinking off into the trees to let the other wolf pass, but given her current state she doubted she'd be able to pull off her near-perfect stealth.

Gritting her teeth, she continued to walk forward slowly, and stared openly as she came upon a white wolf also on the border. He looked like he belonged, and though she hadn't met him before she recognized the scent of the pack beginning to show within his own, if even just faintly. A new recruit? Curious--was she ever not curious?--the mottled black and brown wolf called out a quiet, "Hey," with a little friendly wag of her tail, but she stopped, hesitated, rather than getting closer.

 The brute smiled, unlike his seriousness a moment ago. "Здравствуйте-" he paused, correcting himself, "Hellos, I is Orgin," his accent thick. He always enjoyed company, and meeting new people was nice. He opened his mouth to ask her name but instead, his eyes caught the wound on her leg. 

  "You is hurt?" he asked nervously. He shuffled in his spot, noticing that it may had come out as rude. Maybe Orgin could help, since he had a limited knowledge of healing. It was mostly for wounds, since that was very important during battles.

The smile was promising. There wasn't any apparent force to it, nor did it hold any awkwardness to suggest it wasn't natural, so the little wolf relaxed a bit where she'd stopped. Her amber eyes continued to watch and observe the stranger openly, and her ears twitched atop her head as he began to speak in a strange, foreign tongue. Not Esteban's language, she quickly concluded, with just a little pang of nostalgia for the Spanish wolf. But perhaps there were other languages she could also begin to learn.

She couldn't bring herself to smile, but she could at least give her name now that this foreign white wolf had given his. Orgin. What language was that, anyway? "Mitanni," she said simply, and almost in the same moment saw his yellow-gold eyes stray from her face and toward the injury on her left foreleg.

A quick surge of self-consciousness swept through her, but though it made her shift her weight from side to side a little uncomfortably she tried not to act on it. Her leg was injured at the hands of someone she trusted; so what? But even she had to admit it was eye catching, and not in a good way. Orgin questioned it, looking concerned, and Mitanni tried to brush it off with a wolfish shrug. "Just a bite, nothing too bad," she answered, but she found it hard to meet his eyes. She wished the wound wasn't so obvious.

 "Okays," the Russian murmured, seeing that she was uncomfortable with the question. He began again, hesitated for a moment, then began once again. "You wants...," he faltered, thinking of how to put his words so they would make sense, "What trades you is wants?" he asked after a frustrating moment. 


 Orgin himself was going for probably hunting and/or mercenary.

He surprised her by dropping the subject, and the self-conscious Mitanni let out a relieved sigh. It was a better response than she'd been hoping for, and it encouraged her to stay and keep Orgin company if he was interested. By the way he tried to make conversation, stumbling a little over his words, she assumed he did, and encouragingly she ventured a few slow steps closer, still trying to hide her limp.

"Trades?" she asked, confused for a second or two, but realization quickly came to her. Trades. The odd jobs the pack were singularly focused on. "I've been working on my scouting," Mitanni answered, "and hunting too. Birds are a challenge, so I've taken an interest in them." She smiled just a little, tentative but still a reflection of her common good humor. Slowly she was beginning to relax and her true nature was beginning to come through.

Her head leaned just slightly, indicating her curiosity, and she asked thoughtfully, "You've chosen trades too?"

It was as if his tongue had somehow inflated in his mouth. He never stuttered, but these foreign words were nearly unpronounceable. Very, very aggravating. He had practically a whole paragraph worth of what he had learned and what he wanted to achieve. But, all that came out was: "Hunting."


 Disappointing.

The lithe little wolf saw Orgin stumble on his words and could read some of the frustration that he felt. Undoubtedly this wasn't his first language, and whatever skill he had with it was only minimal. Mitanni wished she was better equipped to help him, but she was at a loss. She'd only learned a handful of Spanish words, and they sounded nothing like those Orgin had spoken originally.

But it wasn't going to stop her from keeping the conversation rolling. Maybe, she hoped, if she kept up a friendly enough facade, he'd lose some of his frustration and relax. She wasn't in any rush for him to get the words right on the first try, anyway. "Hunting, perfect," she answered with a brief wave of her tail, "I think we could use more of that. You wouldn't happen to know much about catching birds, would you?" It didn't hurt to ask, and since that was where she wanted to hone her skills Mitanni was looking for any opportunity to learn that she could find.

It was half good; that she was okay with the way he spoke, and half bad; with her talking as easily as if she was breathing. Either way, he somewhat understood her question. And, to answer, no, he slightly sucked at birds, if compared to his other skills. Fishing, he was better. Anything but birds. He was heavy, no doubt about that, so he would probably be a tracker, deerstalker, and/or fisher. 

 But he knew some stuff, that had to count. 

 "I knows a bit," he said, happy/upset with how much effort he had put into that phrase.

It occurred to her late that what she was saying might not even be understandable to the wolf. It was obvious she didn't speak his first language and that her words were a challenge for him to speak, which meant even processing what she said was likely to be a problem. He seemed to concentrate on her statements, to give it good thought, before answering, and still somehow managed to comprehend her.

A little was better than nothing, and despite Orgin's disquiet regarding his answers Mitanni smiled a little again. "We should hunt sometime," she concluded with a nod of her head, certain that if they managed to set aside language and simply learn from each other's hunting habits that they could bypass the language barrier and work together.

But for the moment, as she recalled, she'd interrupted something. "Were you patrolling?" Mitanni questioned, shifting her weight again to accommodate her healing leg.