Blackfoot Forest was beautiful in daylight. Once more escaping the duties and stress of the Creek, Paarthurnax found herself exploring the neighbouring neutral territories. She padded carefully between the tree trunks, her ears high atop her head and her vivid copper eyes scanning for any signs of something worth checking out.
The morning sun broke through the canopy with ease, breaking through the dust in the air in bright beams and dappling the forest floor. Songbirds tweeted pleasantly, their tunes echoing throughout the emptiness, and some pecked at insects who'd dug themselves out of the cool soil to bask in the sun's warmth. They fluttered away with Paar's approach, and she paused to observe them as they perched on a nearby branch to await her departure.
Since her discourse with Njal, Hatshepsut had intended to leave these borderlands and forge her way deeper into the heart of the Wilds. And yet her fickle attentiveness to hygiene and to guarding her honed body against hunger had spoken, and the Regent had been coerced into remaining here another day, to bathe and to eat.
The emerald forest interested her; she would explore part of it before choosing her mountain path, being careful to skirt the collective odor of wolves gathered, as Njal had vaguely warned her of their leader. And while Hatshepsut did not truly trust him — how could she be so foolish, when they had only spoken once? — the grave rumble of his voice had not been deceptive.
Poised, her fur slightly damp from cleansing waters, the lapis eyes came to rest themselves on the trek of a delicate and wholly beautiful creature. Crimson and sunset, the girl was mainly cloaked in the color of finest linen, and she moved with a courtier's grace.
The court of Karnak had been filled with such exotic loveliness as this — dancers, concubines, even wives of lesser nobles. The wolfess wore the stamp of the desert upon her, unmistakable to another denzien of the hotlands, but it was not from the sands of the Regent's home she hailed. "Em heset net Hathor," the Regent called, wending her way across the loam to approach the other confidently. Yes, as she drew nearer, she was lovely, a jeweled lotus flower, and Hatshepsut appraised her coolly. What was she doing here, so far from the luxuries and primping that the role of a doted-upon wife would provide, or a harem?
Scimitar had healed nicely -- something he knew was purely from the Creek's new healer, Paarthurnax. His shoulder was still stiff at times, but the wound itself was scabbed over completely and no longer broke open. He would wear a scar from his interlude with the ebony Beta of the Sunspire, but it was not the scars he regretted.. it was allowing the bastard to walk away from him that truly nitpicked at his brain. Jace, with his hot tempered words and idiotic and false claims deserved a good lesson in what it meant waltzing around on another's borders and threatening them.
But these thoughts were far from his mind as he ambled past the borders of the Creek that day. It was the scent of Paar he followed now, curious to where her wondering took her.. and eager for a distraction that the she-wolf who he had considered a possibility in his future now only smelled of Shadow.. the aspiring grey Outrider. His suspicion was at the forefront of his mind.. and he did not want to consider the reasons to why.
So as his eyes swept over the lovely form of Paar, he took note of the forest he now stood in as well. He had heard of Blackfoot Forest -- the cries of the foxes were talked of greatly here.. but he had never visited it before. The scenery was not what gained his interest though. As he prowled closer to the pack's medic, his eyes fell upon another she-wolf that sauntered toward her, speaking tongue he did not understand. With a dark rumble, he drew himself up, curious to what the stranger's antics were.
Sorry for delay, I ended up out of town for a few days. :P
The appearance of a stranger was expected in neutral territory, but what surprised Paar was the other wolf's appearance. With a pelt made of sandy hues topped on pale creams that she could make out from a distance, the red-and-white medic was reminded instantly of her home. As she drew nearer, Paarthurnax paused in her tracks and gawked. The unknown female was elegant and graceful, so like those of her father's bloodline, and she could have swore that her heart skipped a beat.
What if Sahrotaar had sent scouts to return her to Susa, to be traded or sold as he saw fit? She imagined he'd have been far from impressed by her disappearing act, especially when her being could have saved his relationship with a neighbouring Shah. She swallowed, her heart's pace suddenly quickening, and the lithe beauty braced herself.
Words were spoken, but they were not those of her homeland. Relief gripped her and, exhaling softly, Paarthurnax parted her jaws to respond: "I'm sorry, I-" The arrival of another wolf, this time one she knew, distracted her. Scimitar moved in beside her and, smiling briefly in his direction in gratitude for his presence, the two-toned wolfess glanced once more toward the tawny female. "Do you speak English?"
The pair were approached by a male, but after a brief appraisal, Hatshepsut paid him no heed. Perhaps he was the pretty one's guard, though he did not hold the scent of a eunuch. A dangerous game indeed, though the Egyptian did not trouble herself with such details. "The language of this land? Yes," she murmured, a cool smile painting itself onto her features. "But that is not the only tongue you speak, surely — I have seen those like you in my courts at Karnak."
Lapis eyes moved slowly over the delicate features. Both the woman and her guardian held the fragrance of the Creek; it seemed these lands fairly crawled with the spawn of the waterbody. Silently she awaited the other's words. The beauty had seemed flustered, perhaps fearful, and the Regent's natural curiosity wished to know why it was a daughter of the desert held such emotion toward an Egyptian.
Paar slid him a glance -- a small smile playing upon her lips, and if he did not know better, a shared look of near relief. He had missed any nervousness from her, but all it took was that simple look shot to his direction, and the larger wolf lowered his muzzle to very briefly touch his nose to her cheek in quiet greeting. With that, his aqua eyes slid back to the stranger, noting how she so very easily dismissed him.
He did not know of the lands the stranger spoke of -- it was painfully obvious how misplaced he was in the situation, but he remained -- rigid in his position, his tail sweeping high as his stoical eyes regarded the other blatantly. Had he known she had placed him as a guardian, he would have wholeheartedly agreed with her -- his stance was a protective one of the delicate female at his side, not simply because of the skills she had brought to the pack, but because she was pack.. and to Scimitar, nothing came closer to family than that.
As silent as a statue, he waited, his ears cupped forward as he listened to the females discussion. Only if needed would he interrupt, and only until the other retreated would he see it fit to leave the side of his packmate.
She was grateful for Scimitar's protectiveness, and as though sensing her uneasiness he moved in close to briefly touch his shout to her cheek. Paar leaned into the touch, as though reaching out for strength through it, and she breathed in deeply before focusing her attention on the unusual she-wolf who'd crossed her path. "It is now," she said boldly in response to the question in regard to the tongues he spoke, her expression unusually blank.
It was true that she'd picked up some of the Persian language, but it was not one she'd been fluent in. Her mother was a Northerner who spoke only English, and Paar had adopted this as her primary tongue. Most wolves knew it and favoured it over Persian in Samarkand anyway, and she'd be rusty if one were to ask her to speak it for them. "What do you mean, 'those like me'?"
Hatshepsut held no respect for those who disdained their roots, and her lapis eyes cooled considerably as the girl spoke. The interplay betwixt herself and the male also perturbed the Egyptian; she straightened. "They came from a land called Persia," she explained, eartip flicking once. "Their demeanour, and yes, their beauty, was akin to yours. But of course I may have made a mistake," Hatshepsut added demurely. She knew she had not; she remembered quite well the fire-flame of the Shah, his coterie of wives and guards. They had come to Karnak in splendor and with exotic gifts, seeking alliance between herself and their lands.
"You are from the creek, yes?" the Egyptian inquired, seeking to smooth the ripple betwixt the two of them. The man continued to go without her attentions, for he played no role in the conversation between herself and the flower. Perhaps she was prejudiced, but Hatshepsut had placed the male in the role of a guard, and thus to her he was little more than a plant or pillar.
He was the silent and still guardian – the role the stranger had assumed him to be in was not entirely inaccurate, and mostly, the agouti male was pleased enough with this. He was a wolf of few words and did not see any reason to be involved in the conversation that did not include him – they spoke of a land he had not heard of, though in his even younger days he likely would have relished a place where beauty such as Paar’s had been the norm. Of course, now, he only had eyes for one girl. Whether or not that was returned was a mystery to him, and he was not quite ready to seek the truth of that question.
But the Creek did involve him, and when the female smoothly slid his home in to the conversation, a more malicious smirk twitched to the corner of his lips as he cast her a straight forward glance – no longer playing the silent soldier. “Perhaps a name should be presented before such questions,” he rumbled darkly, distrust clearly lace din his tone and stance.
Her father had regularly sought alliance with the packs surrounding their home, sometimes with those further afield. He would take with him several of his wives, no doubt to keep him occupied on the journey, and Nita would regularly go alongside them to keep the she-wolves in check. Paarthurnax did not ever express any desire to go with them; her duty as a medic involved the assistance with rearing the pack's young, and so she always opted to stay with them. Her parents' outings made good practice for Sahrotaar, the Shah-in-training, though under the guidance of the elders he was not so bold as when he was officially made Samarkand's leader.
Paar's discomfort was obvious to the duo, but she gained strength from Scimitar's presence. Her history regarding Susa and her unusual family was something she wasn't ready to share, so she remained silent until an unrelated question was asked. Paarthurnax' heart lifted then, though just as she sprung to answer with enthusiasm at leaving the topic of her heritage behind her, her agouti Beta took the stage. The crimson beauty eyed him curiously with a sideward glance, and her bunched muscles slackened, glad for him to take control of the situation.
i'm gonna have hat exit here, but feel free to address her or have scim or paar stop her so she's not just talkin' mad crap and leaving LOL
The Egyptian blinked as the guard swept forward, and somehow, simperingly, the girl allowed this, with no words of her own. Veiling her annoyance and growing disgust with the situation, the bantam wolf faced him directly, as he now seemed the only other notable party in this ugly little conversation. "I am Ma'at-ka-Ra Hatshepsut, Regent of Karnak, Daughter of Amun" she proffered, though she gave neither one of them the option of a smaller title.
"I am not in need of your names; your scent tells me what it is I wish to know. I have met many of you from Swiftcurrent these past days." In truth, she had nothing to ask them, not if the dynamic of a talk between women was to be wedged aside by a guard, and a man at that.
"Call for me if you rediscover your tongue and your heritage, lovely one," Hatshepsut purred blithely, mockingly to the Persian girl. "I will be near, though not so that I am threatening in any way." She moved past the pair, the movement of her paws swift and yet a slow dance that invited either of them to call her back — or attack from some wickedness in their hearts.
His question was asked with simplicity – and yet a name was presented to him with absolute flourish, tagging on names of her heritage on top of everything. He blinked in that moment, casting a sideways glance to Paarthurnax as if determining if she too thought this creature before them was absolute loopy, at best.
There was no need – the she-wolf dismissed herself, and Scimitar felt his pelt bristle lightly at the thought of her interrogating Creek wolves. Somehow, the Creek managed to draw the interest of the absolute batshit crazy, and he withheld a sigh at the thought – in that very moment, it felt as if The Sunspire had eyes and could watch his every movement.
As she left, the cinnamon wolf allowed his eyes to skim over the beauty at his side – Paarthurnax was a mystery to him still, and he quietly wondered if Fox had still been in reign, if the she-wolf would have even gained permission to step past the borders. Fox would have found her appearance threatening, and he doubted it – Bazi’s confidence only made him more intrigued in the pale queen. “Are you okay?” It was apparent she hadn’t known the woman, and while he would not pry in to her past, he did wonder if the two were linked somehow. After all, the daughter of Amun had seemingly felt little doubt that they were.
She remained quiet and unmoving, her bright eyes fixed to the sharp features of the wolf so like those of her father's bloodline. Her heart continued to thrum hard within her chest from the fear she felt at potentially being exposed when she was not ready to share her tale of why she'd left Samarkand. The strange, exotic female shared with the Swiftcurrent duo a name that greatly resembled those of wolves in her homeland, but Paarthurnax could not place it as one she knew. Satisfied that this wolf did not know her, she exhaled the breath she'd been holding in shaky relief.
Paar's heart skipped an uncomfortable beat as the honey-coloured wolfess focused completely on her, and she frowned thoughtfully as she found herself unable to meet her gaze. Hatshepsut spoke to her then, her tone mocking, and the crimson beauty ignored what she had to say; the very last thing she wished to discuss was her heritage, especially with someone who might very well know of her family.
The daughter of Amun made to leave, and Paarthurnax was grateful that Scimitar did not feel the need to defend her dignity. She figured maybe anger had been the reaction Hatshepsut had wanted, and supposed maybe the agouti male assumed similar. Blinking up at him as he asked after her well-being, Paar managed a small smile and nodded. "I'm fine," she said softly, though truthfully she remained uncertain. "I am not sure why she thought she knew me."
Her words did not overly encourage him, but he would not pry. His gaze drifted from her to the direction the stranger had gone – she was quick on her feet, it seemed, and already she was gone from eyesight. He gave a shrug in return, believing fully that the crimson she-wolf had not known the other at all – but something definitely felt off about the entire encounter.
Instead of dwell on it, the large male shook his agouti pelt, as if ridding the tension in the air. Blinking, he studied Paarthurnax once more before a small smile pressed to the corner of his lips – a hint of amusement. Casting a playful nip to her cheek in that moment, the Beta took a few strides away, casting his muzzle over his shoulder to watch her reaction. “Enough of the sacred daughter of Amun,” he decided, taking another few paces away, as if luring her in a direction. “Let’s go hunt. Maybe we can find something to take back to the others.” After all.. if a distraction was needed, it might as well be a useful one.
Without waiting, the agouti male turned, trailing away from his companion, believing she would follow after him.
Scimitar thankfully did not pry, though she doubted he'd missed the obvious fact that she was not like other females in their Northern region. Her voice was faintly accented, her features fine and her pelt feathery; she was different. But he looked beyond her differences and saw a girl worth defending, a pack-mate, perhaps a friend. With a playful nip to Paarthurnax' cheek, the agouti male trotted from her with the suggestion of a distraction.
"Sounds like a plan," the russet wolfess chirped, pulling herself together and loping after her comrade. She delivered a sharp nip to his flank and hopped aside to avoid retaliation, and followed Scimitar to assist him in pursuing their chosen prey.