Hemlock broke away from the pack, trying to settle her nerves and the way that she felt. She would figure things out. Of course she would. For now though Hemlock moved through the inky darkness as the rest of the Family settled to rest and chose to feel out the area. They were close Arturo said, and she believed it, but now that the green was returning to the world she wanted to start getting the lay of the land. Nearby there was the scents of others, and there was equal parts curiosity and concern over the founding of the pack.
She had to be discreet as she avoided the murkier part of the bog, spotting the forest ahead. Hemlock had found a small cluster of borage leaves, so new and young but still Hemlock would bring them back for Lotte. She had them clutched carefully in her teeth, not chewing or tasting them herself, and once the scent of the pack grew too heavy she froze - she wouldn't trespass, after all, that's what started it all.
Feyre, being the newest member of the pack, was still caught in her loner habits. Although she loved her new home, a little exploration was not uncommon for her. As she swept through the thick brush of thr bog, all the while protecting her ivory coat, she became suprised at seeing new foligage and herbs throughout the bog.
Through the dark, the moon's rays caught upon a feiry coat. Feyre's ears flicked with unease, but her tail wagged lightly. She was near the border, and Feyre would fight if need be, but for now she adopted her usual demeanor. She released a musical chuff, her sweet words following shortly thereafter, "Hello there!"
For a moment Hemlock peered into the darkness, eyes looking at unfamiliar territory. It was all different; all of it was new. This wasn't necessarily bad but yet, it was, and the adventuring heart inside of Hemlock was broken. She'd lost her love, her home, their land, and all for reckless behavior. Her appearance was marred now with the claw scars of the cougar because of her own foolishness. Perhaps if she'd taken someone with her - if she'd been more careful....but that time was passed. She couldn't say what would have happened.
As another wolf approached Hemlock took a moment to collect herself, setting down the herbs to keep them safe. "Hello," She offered evenly, green eyes blinking at the stranger. "I'm Isley - I was curious about these lands. I've been roaming for a bit." She explained, although it wasn't the entire truth.
Baby mobile post XD
The fae, naive as she may be, did not notice any untruths from the other wolf. Her sweet demeanor opted well of idle conversation,
"Ahh, I see. Well I am quite fond of roaming a bit myself." She watched the woman set down her herbs, Feyre's curiousity growing.
"What sort of herb is that?" Her warm gaze analyzed the herbs from afar, not remembering them from her homeland.
At the woman's question there was a gentle sway of Hemlock's tail, the notion of passing any knowledge on to someone else made her pleased. That much of herself she'd never hide, nor did she think she could. "They are borage, they can help new mothers. I figure it is coming into spring - there is bound to be a pack near here that might welcome new life this season." She offered, as if it was the most natural thing that she might offer to a pack so she had a safe Haven.
They were forging what would be her home, and she was only wondering about the pack scent she'd stumbled upon. "Is this your pack here?" She asked curiously, head tilting a bit in a gentle notion.
Feyre smiled lightly as the woman spoke fondly of what must be one of her trades, or perhaps a family talent. As knowledge was supplied, she listened intently, for one day she might need to know a few herbs to help another fae, or even herself, in becoming a mother.
Nodding towards where she came, Feyre spoke fondly of her new home, "Yes, right over the territory there." Peering through the trees towards the Glade. "Although I am quite new, I already like it here." She smiled brightly, looking to the other wolf as if she knew exactly what Feyre felt. Her own tail thumped upon the ground twice before she fired off a question of her own, "Where is yours?..err..if you have a pack I mean." The girl was flustered, as she had not smeeling any other wolves on the fae.
Hemlock followed over the the wolf's shoulder to where she indicated. The glade seemed nice, a pleasant sort of spot, and from what she'd seen of the area it would be well fortified. "Oh, that sounds very nice." She offered with a sweet little smile, like it might mask the scars and darkness across her face and pelt. "What is the pack's name?" Hemlock asked curiously. She was hopeful that she could get some information to maybe take back to Arturo, it would be good to scout out how much space was between their packs.
"Oh...no. I have..." She let her face fall a bit, turning her gaze down towards the earth. "My mate was killed and I have been gone. I am looking for a home, truth be told I have not spent much time in the area." She said evenly. She hadn't been lying, really, and until Teaghlaigh had finished moving she was unbound and unfettered. She would not leave the pack, but, she would scout the area for them.
She paused at the question, answering shortly but not unsweetly "Golden Glade." A snickering voice crept into her head, reminding her that she really should not trust outsiders. She tried to ignore the voice, but looked at the fae with slightly more suspicion, as this was a wolf prowlign near the territory.
Her face grew solemn at the fae's remarks about her mate, the story was heartbreaking. She stayed quet though, as the women went on. She cocked her head when the other said she was searching for a home, a question on the tip of her tongue. "As a new member, I couldn't decide, but the Glade does take in wolves if they prove themselves in a spar." Her voice was serious, still holding hints of her sweet presona.
To her answer Isley allowed her features to go wide; it might have been just surprise and it was authentic. "Sparring?" She repeated dumbly. She turned to allow her side to be seen better, wincing at the idea. "I cannot say I am the best fighter." She said quietly, as if it was this painfully obvious. Even with scarring it wasn't a promise that she couldn't hold her own, maybe it would have meant she was a better fighter. She didn't consider herself the worst as she hadn't been killed yet but that wasn't saying that much either.
"I do not think I would be suited to the Glade, then." She admitted, giving a little frown. "Maybe there is another around, one I might be able to give my skills to." She would benefit from the pack information and so would Teaghlaigh. She just hoped that there would no issues if the were a more aggressive bunch. "Thank you, though, for that information."
Feyre paused, taking in the fae's scars. It was impressive, in a sad way, to see such multitude on a young wolf like herself. She prided herself in missing harmful swipes as those, she just did not fare as well with giving them.
She tilted her head at the other wolf. Not suited? All wolves can fight, she makes it seem as if we are cruel. Her mood darkend slightly. "Well than how long have you been alone? Because if you can't fight, then how do you fend off creatures that will snap wolves our size in two?" She motioned between herself and the fae. She nodde slightly at the femme when she declared she would be better off somewhere else. Jhala probably wouldn't be pleased with her fighting skills anyways. Her thoughts drew a pitying frown upon her face. "Your welcome for the information...I guess." She now wondered what the wolf was doing in the bog.
To the question Isley gave a little shrug of her shoulders. "A few months. My strengths lie in quick wits and feet - this only proved I am no warrior." She explained. She had no intentions of sharing where her scars had come from or what had happened - nor her new name or it's malicious origins. It was fortuitous that the winter was so harsh as a fat hare in a clearing from the brush enticed the cat into consumption. The hemlock she'd laced in the rabbits flesh had done its job. Isley nodded again to the few leaves she had gathered, glad for the bogs abundance of water for the early return of plant life to it.
"I am a medic by trade, not a warrior. Give me your wounded and I can serve, but a creature as small as I am is not the best candidate for guardianship." She concluded. It was nothing personal, and while she'd fight tooth and nail for those she cared for, she knew where her strengths were.
She nodde along with the woman's words as she explained herself. A medic. They were helpful in times of need, but being small does not mean you cannot fight as hard as the rest of them. A glimmer of a frown passed over Feyre's ivory face as she spoke, "You and I are of nearly the same size, and I do not find it hard to bring down another in battle." A sharp bark of words followed her emotion. I can certainly hold my own, but she seems to think that wolves of our size cannot. Her thoughts remained unspoken as she glowered lightly at the red wolf. "I consider it to be more about commitment, than inital size..." She finally spoke steadily.
Although Hemlock had never doubted wolves of their size could hold their own, she knew that her strengths remained elsewhere. "How fortunate that your skills are aligned with your intent." She presented a small smile, almost feeling hyper aware of the other female and her potential judgements. It was most likely just her paranoia, a parting gift from her mother that seemed to have come back and only worse since Palisanders death and her time alone. "Of course determination is why I still live and breathe, but, I lack the natural appetite or aptitude some have for fighting." She said as kindly as she could."It is a blessing for us to have such a variety of passions to pursue." Hemlock glanced around, green eyes quick as if she felt she was being watched, although she knew it was just then and no one else was nearby.
Wanna wrap it up here and have them meet some other time in the future?
She nodded along with the other woman's near poetry. She understood this, but remained silent as to be polite to the woman. When she finished the mantra, Feyre spoke lightheartedly,
"Some are just born with a hunger to fight, it is true. And yes, we are all quite lucky." She nodded her head and took a glance up at the bright stars. The night was still deep and slumbering, but she could feel her own body grow weary. It was near time for her to take a nap.
She glanced back over to the fiery woman, smiling as she stood.
"Although I have quite enjoyed this little conversation, a girl's gotta get her beauty rest." Her eyes glinted with humor as she flicked her ivory tail.
"Have a good evening, thank you for your time." She said as the woman stood and moved to leave. She didn't feel threatened by the encounter, she'd gotten the information she'd wanted - and now she could provide the information to Arturo and Lotte to let them know the nature of the area. She offered Feyre a smile and a polite dip of her head. "Perhaps we will run into one another in the future." Hemlock hummed out, although it was mostly to herself.
She bothered to gather up the borage again, and on her way back - taking a longer route than necessary to return to her wolves - Hemlock gathered a few more leaves for her collection. With any luck it wouldn't be necessary to her at all and she could just store them - worse came to worse she could offer them to Lotte to supplement her litter better.
absolutely! thanks for joining in!