Wolf RPG

This time, the roaming thunderstorms common to the season did not stop Mordecai from venturing out. He had made his way into the higher climes belonging to the Keep first, but there had been no sign of Pippin there. His wandering carried him further out from there, beyond the rise of the rocky foothills and to the staggering, winding pathways into the mountains. He stuck to lesser roads of travel, following narrow ledges and ridges alike on a whim, fueled primarily by the hope that his son would turn up tucked away in a crevasse.

The rain had washed out plenty of options he could have taken to search for him and the crackle of the overhead sky only seemed to amplify the way the earth quivered in its wake. At times it tempted him to deter from continuing on, but he did not—rather, could not—fear the rush of the winds that came with such a storm. The worst of such did not last as long as he felt it would. It was not some constant left to hang overhead, and by the time he had found the overlook the very blunt edge of such a storm had long passed him and had gone into the beyond.

But the skies did not clear for him, nor was there nary a sight of gold belonging to the rail-thin Pippin. Stockstill, he lingered with the overlook, unaware of the watching eyes of the ravens that hid against the still budding boughs of what few trees offered. His solitary gaze scanned the earth below, wondering if somehow Pippin had not gone into the mountains. Perhaps he had gone the other way, back towards the Hollow.

Still, he would not abandon one option for the concern of another—Mordecai raised his head and summoned for the boy.

The pressure from the southeast was grossly evident to the pirate, who was becoming accustomed to this notion of gaining a large amount of space for one's group. Drastically different than that of Tortuga, where the largest or strongest group got respect and a few pieces of choice land deferred to them. Instead, each pack strived to gain enough buffer ground with the next to provide them with the land they needed for prey to roam freely with little predation, except from them, of course.

The push of the Seadogs and the unknown pack (the Marauders; if Maude knew the pirate-like name of the other pack, she would laugh at these wannabes), frustrated her; why were they so close? Saltwinter was there first, from her knowledge, then the Seadogs, now this other pack? What the hell were they thinking.

Out of some kind of curiosity, the pirate stalked to the mountains where the other pack lay, her attentions sweeping over the Seadogs; they were already accounted for. She shuddered as sand was replaced by grass and trees, a sneer of disgust at the high mountains that lurked in the horizon, then took up her whole worldview. How could anyone live here?

The onsetting storm drove her to lurk underneath a large specimen of tree, unaware of the black birds that lurked above her, watching, only paying attention to the sudden howl that sprouted from nearby. Ahoy? She ventured, walking towards the sound. Was she spotted by the pack? Was it an ambush? She had been in similar situations before, and was immediately tense.

Seconds turn into moments that ticked by unknowningly; he heard nothing but the wind and the thunder that rumbled off over the valleys to his back. A knot of tension rolled itself through him, laced with concern and in its depths, frustration. He didn't blame Pippin for taking off. It seemed an appropriate response to what had happened and thankfully such an event was something Mordecai knew none of his children were accustomed to. No, instead their lives this year had been rife with discomfort of another sort and it lingered like the fungus that grew in many of the cavern walls.

Just when he thought enough time had passed that he needed to move on and continue his search, he heard the voice. He turned to seek out the owner and was met with a creature that was every bit as thin as they were ragged. Had it not been for the rain, Mordecai would have ascertained that they belonged somewhere, but his immediate thought was that they were a vagrant seeking shelter where the trees provided it.

His head dipped in greeting, but he made no move to close in the distance between them. He'd take the approach—maybe they'd have some morsel of information to give.

Maude shuddered, rain trickling down her spine. The pirate wench shook her pelt, spraying water and brine around her. Yew from 'round 'ere? She queried, walking closer to the wolf. She figured he might be from one of the packs nearby, or a loner. But why he was howling in the rain escaped her, naturally. Wouldn't the constant drumming of the rain muffle the noise? Ah, well she couldn't explain the mind of others.

"Of a sorts," he answered. While he and his own may have been out of sorts with Tavi, he had no desire to undermine her desire to hide away. Then again, an indirect answer was as much up his alley as hers. He had questions of his own that needed answering.

"I'm looking for my son," he went on. The rain pelted him with the shift of wind. "He's a bit bigger than half my size, gold-colored. Have you seen him?" Here he found it difficult to manage his usual stoicism; urgency to find Pippin seeped itself in his tones.

Nah. Ain't seen 'im. Had she been aware of Caiaphas' previous escapades with small children, she would have wondered if the coywolf had the little bugger sequestered away somewhere in the tunnels of the Sound.

Maude shuddered as the wind and cold pelted them both, looking at the worried father with dismay. Yer really gonna look fer 'im in dis weather? She looked about as the wind ripped and roared and the rain battered their hides. He should just sit down and rest somewhere instead of interrogating strangers.

His heart fell a bit when she revealed that she had not seen him. He knew somewhere inside that it was also likely that Pippin wouldn't let anyone see him; the boy had always been quiet, good at tucking himself away wherever he was. For all Mordecai knew, he could have stumbled right past him in the storm with the rain having washed out the scents and myriads of trails along the ridges. Then again, the storm could have also done far worse, but his thoughts would not venture down such a dark path so soon.

It was her next question however that turned his thoughts in another direction, however briefly. "Of course," he rejoined tersely, well before he had anything more to add on. He figured she must not have had any children, so he avoided using that particular instance, and went with another option altogether. "Would you not look for someone you loved if they were missing?"

Maude curled her body, trying to make herself less of a target for the wind's wanton assaults. The wolf still looked determined to find his son, which she couldn't wrap her head around the thought of spawning some little creature and being chainlinked to it for a year. She humored the male, however, having nothing better to do other than squat and wait for the storm to pass.

She scowled slightly at the man's question. While she had no children, she had many a love before. Some had gone missing (mostly because of her...), but she kept her eye on all of them. She made sure that she always knew what they were doing and if they were ok and making sure they were safe. If she was a mother, she thought she would honestly make a better parent than this man, if he truly did love his son like he said. I wouldn't let them go missing in the first place. She huffed.

His eye narrowed at her statement and the prickle of anger coursed his veins. It became clear to him that she had no children to speak of, only arrogance. Of course the same could have been said about him as well, as he was confident enough to believe that Pippin would manage on his own until he was found. He wasn't a toddling infant any more. He may not have been an adult either, but the boy was capable enough to manage.

Not that those considerations ever stopped him from worrying. The worry was there, it was real, and until he had found an inkling of where his son had gone then it would remain. "Easier said than done," he rejoined, "perhaps someday you'll understand." It was a useless gesture to add barbs to, he knew, but he could not stop himself from saying such.

"But I really should be on my way. Stay safe," he went on to add as parting words in the next beat—this wolf would be of no use to him.

She snorted as the father got annoyed with her. Per'aps. She didn't dream of having children (especially not in the conventional way). They were more nuisances than benefits. Sure, one day they would grow into adults, but the year in-between was fraught with danger and annoyances that Maude didn't much care for. Let others give birth and raise children. Not her problem. Not her problem at all. 

See ya. She said, hunkering down to weather out the rest of the storm. Let this fool wander off into a squall to find some brat. The man could obviously have more; he wasn't that old. But as quickly as the occurrence began, it was over, and Maude forgot about it, drifting to sleep as the storm raged on above her.