Though not much of a hunter of water fowl, or fowl in general, the ducks seemed such an easy target for a hungry wolf. He wasn't all that hungry, having scarfed down a squirrel earlier that morning, but he thought it might make a good gift for his companions. Particularly Ocra, whose leg he still worried about. So he waded into the water, which was cold enough to send a shiver crawling up his back. Carefully he prowled forward, ducking reeds and water grass. The lake stayed shallow for a convenient distance, and finally he was no more than a few feet away. A good surprise attack would secure him a meal, if only he was skilled enough to reach out and get it.
He struck, lunging forward from behind a thick patch of water grass. The ducks scattered, and he leaped out of the water to try and catch one as they flew away en masse, but to no avail. Disappointed, but not disheartened, he dragged himself from the water and flopped down to lay out in the sun and dry off.
Kessa had no direction. There was no purpose to her movements, no sense of bearing in her silent world. For so long Zema had been her mediator, the link between the silence and the sound. Once forced from her sister's side, Kessa had found herself with the Graces. She had struck out, perhaps foolishly, but no one could defy the Green Grace for long.
The wounds inflicted on her were scabbed over but she would sometimes find herself fascinated by the hairless patch on one leg where the Green had ripped the fur out in their fight. The coywolf preferred moving at night, when the darkness helped to shroud her ebony coat, though this day found her moving through marshland terrain.
Kessa hadn't expected to find any, not noticing until he appeared from the reeds. He was a myriad of colors, his eyes a vibrant red hue. The deaf femme startled, hopping back half a step lest she crash into him. Her fur bristled along her spine, reminscent of a frightened cat.
The ebony she-wolf relaxed slightly, ears tipping back in an apologetic manner. Her lips parted though the thick noise that came out was more of a cough than a bark.
No sooner had he hit the ground than he was back up, startled by the other wolf's sudden presence. Just one look at her confirmed that she, too, was surprised by him. Hey, hey, we're cool,
he said gently. Her razor-sharp features indicated coyote heritage, but there was no doubting her wolf blood. The coywolf was black, a slim shadow with hauntingly beautiful eyes. She relaxed quickly, whether it was a result of his words or not, and she looked upon him apologetically.
She did not speak, but from her throat eked a sad little sound. It sounded as though her voice was thick from disuse, like she had been silent for so long that her throat no longer knew how to shape words. You got a name?
he asked, instantly feeling pity for her. How long had she been alone?
Kessa smiled, tail wagging hopefully at him. He was kind, or it seemed that way for now. Maybe he was lonely, like she.
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, following their movements with concentration as Zema had taught her.
"Kessa," she informed him. It was the closest approximation of her own name she could make. "You?"
Very quickly he caught on to the way she watched his lips move. There was the same intensity as a stargazer read the heavens. She was either very attracted to him, or she was reading his lips. Are you deaf?
he asked, sure to enunciate so that the words formed clearly both visually and aurally. Wait, lo siento, that was rude to ask,
he stumbled.
She introduced herself monosyllabically. Sriracha returned the introduction in kind, though with more verbosity. Charmed, Kessa. My name is Sriracha,
he said, smiling.
Kessa nodded, shrugging off the apology though she didn't understand the strange language he spoke. It was not the Ghiscari language that the Graces spoke, which she had never learned to speak due to her low status.
"It's nice," she complimented, though the deaf femme doubted whether or not if she would ever be able to pronounce it.
"Why?" Kessa gestured to the water questioningly, wondering what he was doing.
His overabundant use of his native tongue seemed to be othering him in these northern lands. Still, he would use it. Sriracha was proud of his heritage and his people. He would just have to make his speech more accesible. Perhaps the others could learn it, and there would be another string to tie them together. Thank you,
he said, swallowing thickly around the gracias he has almost uttered. Sriracha followed her gaze, looking to the reed-thick waters of the lake. Why...? Oh! I was hunting. There were ducks.
The ducks in question had settled in the distance, mere dots upon the lake.
She nodded, following his gaze to the lake. She had never hunted ducks, they weren't native to the dry, deserts of the Ghiscari land. Kessa had heard of them but never seen one.
"No luck," she let out a rough chuckle.
"No pack?" She couldn't smell a pack but the scents of two others lingered on his fur.
He tired quickly of watching the ducks, turned back to further study Kessa. She was an oddity, a little mystery wrapped up in a slim wolf. He laughed at what he assumed to be a joke and shook his head. No luck,
he agreed. She then asked about his status, and Sriracha gave the air a quick sniff to find whether she was attached to any pack. She was not. I have no pack, but am traveling with friends.
To call them friends was generous, but he had high hopes.
She could feel Sriracha staring at her, the prickling sensation against the back of her neck that warned her to keep her guard up; even if this particular wolf seemed rather nice. Kessa shook her head slightly, a twitch, as if to shake the thought from her brain.
"I come?" Perhaps it was pathetic to ask such a thing but she had been alone since fleeing the Graces. Kessa was a lonely girl and would not let a chance to find friendship pass her by.
There was no hint of hesitation when she asked if she could come along. Immediately, Sriracha nodded. This was a wolf that needed looking after. She could be taken advantage of, and Sriracha trusted himself over the general population. Of course,
he said.
Sriracha agreed, Kessa letting out a little squeak of happiness in response. Her tail wagged hard enough to nearly knock her over as she stood.
"We go?" The coywolf was excited to say the least, and ready to meet the leader's friends.
His response sent her into near paroxysms of glee, which proved to be infectious. Sriracha grinned, and gestured in the direction they would go. Yeah,
he said. Follow me.
And with that he led her to where he, Xan, and Ocra would rendezvous.