Wolf RPG

Where had he gone? The days were slow to pass without Eneko at her side. She was a poor hunter, often hungry and left to scavenge for scraps others might have left behind. The winter had chilled most of the plants into dormancy, leaving her unoccupied and alone for the duration of her travels.

Ainhoa knew that she was not meant to be without company. She lacked the skills of a proper wolf, having always had someone more experienced to depend on. As a true loner, she was useless; despite the pain that it caused her, she knew that joining a pack was her only option.

She climbed the mountain range, having found some comfort in its familiarity. Toward the top was a border, forcing her to stop. The sylph tilted back her head and released a weak call, uncertainty clear in her voice.

the call that rises into the chilled air — made more bitter and sharp by the heights at with sagtannet called their home — is weak sounding; uncertain. wintersbane is nearby, patrolling the borders and quickly diverts his path. he backtracks through snow: deeper in some areas of the borders than others but follows his own path to where the call has risen.

the woman waiting at the borders is cloaked in a pelage of light brown, with black and white markings that wintersbane ponder are as unique as his 'mane'. his glacial gaze is assessing as he approaches, posture tell-tale of his rank without excessive show. ❝this is sagtannet, stranger,❞ wintersbane introduces. ❝i am wintersbane. one of the eisen's. how can i help you?❞ he asks, glad that he's finally remembered to introduce himself without being prompted ( this time, anyway ).

Sagtannet and Wintersbane, the Eisen. He was significantly larger than she might have imagined, though his voice removed the sharpest of his edge. I a-am Ainhoa, she stammered, falling clumsily into submission. The fiasco was admittedly embarassing, though she did her best to maintain a facade of confidence.

How did one join a pack? The need had never arisen, similar to other tasks. Are you open? she asked, words lilted by the Sierran accent. I want to join, if I can. She peered up at him through warm ambers, gaze flitting away before eye contact could be made.

ainhoa; she introduces herself as. like the word 'eisen' — one of mahler's words, wintersbane suspects — her name sounds different, sounds as if it might roll off his tongue than produce the harsher sounds of some of the others. ...his own included. after she stammers her introduction she falls into a submissive posture that wintersbane accepts with a dip of his head before encouraging her to rise with a gesture of his muzzle. he was never one to force wolves into submission unless necessary ...and that was evidently not going to be an issue here.

❝we are,❞ wintersbane rasps. the few they've lost along the way has opened up spots and as far as wintersbane is concerned if they were not loyal enough to stay thru the merging than they weren't all that loyal to begin with and he will not be sorry for their loss. ❝what skills do you have to offer sagtannet?❞ he asks; down to business.

The command to rise was heeded with slight hesitation. Ainhoa rose into a seat, ears still flat and eyes averted, as she whispered a breathless, Thank you. Wasn't this inappropriate? She had never imagined herself postured at a height comparable to that of a leader. A small smile threatened to form, though she was quick to quiet the urge.

Another gaze was turned toward Wintersbane. I know plants, she explained, an, uhm, botikari. She thought about Eneko and asked that wherever he was, he might know to guide her tongue. And I can learn the other things, like a man's work. The phrase was in reference to hunting and guarding; while Ainhoa did not find either occupation particularly interesting, she was willing to sacrifice her diginity for temporary safety.

ironic that out of anyone, the touted tundrian warlord is the one who, while requires respect out of his wolves, does not like to lord his position over all others ...necessary evils aside. on this, he draws from his own experiences and that he hated being forced into submission ...especially given his own acknowledgement of lower rankings. it had only ever forced him to want to retaliate more.

i know plants,

she tells him and attempts to elaborate though she uses a word he is unfamiliar with he can piece together what it is based solely off the fact that it is close to it's common equivalent. ❝can you heal?❞ he inquires, assuming that because she knows of plants that surely the knowledge of what was helpful and poisonous all tied together. ❝man's work?❞ he questions, scarred brow quirking as he contemplates that term of phrasing.

in a way, it almost reminds him of his late wife.

❝we don't divide skills on gender here,❞ wintersbane advises her, imagining that none of their women hunter or mercenaries would take too kindly at being told their trades were for 'the men'. ❝if you wish to learn to fight or hunt ...or both you will be taught.❞ wintersbane explains. ❝but you provide whatever skills you're comfortable providing. botanist would be helpful especially since we have a few pregnant women in our ranks.❞ he isn't sure because his experience with pregnant women is near zero but he figures there's probably medicines for pain or y'know ...whatever women went through while they were pregnant.

Oh, Ainhoa replied, I'm sorry. The foreign lands housed a plethora of cultures and customs, each of which served to fascinate. She seemed to learn something new each day, and only wished that Eneko were there to learn, too. An apologetic smile was flashed for Wintersbane, whose downcast gaze she now moved to meet. 

Remembering his prior question, she nodded her head. I am best with the pregnant women, she explained. In their travels, she had served as midwife for many lone mothers. Ainhoa had been a mother herself, though never to a child of her own womb; she was the protector of the abandoned, teaching her both patience and humility. And, if not needed, I would like to not be taught these things. Prior attempts had ended with little success, so she wasn't keen to try again.

❝it's alright,❞ wintersbane is quick to assure her. you couldn't have known that — he, who stems from different cultures himself, pieces of all he has been apart of tossing themselves into the still enigmatic mixture of the tundrian warlord, is quick to understand and very hard to offend. impressed by her words of being a midwife and confident that, with effort put forth to prove said skills, ainhoa will pass even the toughest of critics. to wintersbane, who's not even siring ( yet ) kids this year, being a midwife is extremely valuable and not something he wants to turn away.

❝no one is going to force you to learn the 'man trades',❞ wintersbane assures her with a quirk of his lips, and a soft and short laugh that dies as a wisp in his scarred throat. ❝i feel you can be an invaluable asset to our ranks, so i welcome you to sagtannet. my co-leaders are mahler and wylla. i suggest introducing yourself to them soon. until you've proven yourself you'll be ranked at thrall ...but i'm confident you'll prove yourself soon enough.❞ he assures her, not wanting to instill any more worry than she might already have.

❝come, i'll give you a tour.❞ the tundrian invites her in with a broad, sweeping gesture of his muzzle.

Ainhoa listened to Wintersbane speak — Oh, okay! — and moved to walk beside him. She had been accepted into their ranks with more ease than she had anticipated. If Eneko were to ever find her, she hoped that he might be welcomed with similar judgement. 

The pair began their walk into the territory. She looked over at the Eisen, brow slowly drifting to a frown as she thought about his prior words. Thrall, Ainhoa repeated, the 'r' trilling upon exit, What is this? It was obviously a newcomer's rank, but she wanted to know what it meant. Years of speaking the common tongue had afforded her enough fluency to know that Sagtannet used something other.

How many do you have here? she asked, continuing to walk at his side.

she asks him what the word 'thrall' means as she accepts his invitation and he begins their tour of the spire. for a few heartbeats, wintersbane is silent. ❝i'm not real sure,❞ he admits; all he knows is that it isn't tundrian. ❝mahler should know, most of our ranks appear to be of his native tongue.❞ which doesn't bother wintersbane in the slightest. tundrian would've probably been too hard to pronounce anyway, admittedly.

❝but i'm going to guess it's meaning is tied to it's place as an entry rank.❞ it was a safe assumption at the very least. ❝there's fifteen adults and one cub with others on the way.❞ though, wintersbane considers, the current cub in their ranks should be joining the adult ranks soon. they were strong even with the few that were lost along the way.

❝sagtannet is a merger of two packs; mahler's diaspora and my late wife's courtfall.❞ wintersbane explains, figuring it doesn't hurt to give some history on the forging of sagtannet.

The questions continued to formulate as Wintersbane explained those already asked. She was somewhat abashed by her chattiness, but found comfort in its allowance. Once commanded, she would be happy to silence herself.

How many are pregnant? Ainhoa asked next, wondering how many potential patients were held within the ranks. Normally, the herbs that she needed would have already been stored in one of many caches, but that was not the case at Sagtannet. She would have to go foraging with little chance of success, so knowing the stakes beforehand would serve as vital motivation.

A mournful eye was turned to the Eisen. Your wife has passed? she asked, voice quiet so as to not offend. I'm sorry. It was difficult to lose a loved one, and while she could not empathize with the loss of a significant other, she knew somewhat of his pain.

❝there is two that i know of.❞ wintersbane tells her, figuring that transparency was best suited here. if there more they were not far enough along for him to be able to tell ...or perhaps he simply hadn't paid close enough attention. sagtannet was still new and the full details of such things still needed to be ironed out, though wintersbane was surprised that, all things considered, the merging had gone rather smoothly. ❝i am sure there will be more.❞

a soft noise of acknowledgment is given as she offers her sympathy. ❝thank you.❞ he responds with a small dip of his head, content to let silence linger as he leads her to the river that the diasporian prince, stag, had named. ❝this is windholme.❞ wintersbane gestures to the river, risen with the icemelt from the snowy peaks of the spire.

The number was underwhelming, but it was for the best. Winter had only just begun, leaving plenty of time for the others to come into their season. Ainhoa was grateful for having already struggled through her heat, as it left her free to worry about those less fortunate. 

Wintersbane did not seem interested in talking about his lost one. She did not push him, having been left content with his singular response. The pair walked on until arriving at the edge of a stream which was introduced as Windholme.

Windholme? she parroted, dipping one paw into the slow-running water. Ainhoa would have pictured the river frozen, but thought that it made sense for one of such magnitude to still be active. Why does it have a name? she asked, wondering if this was another of their customs.

having been born and raised in the teekon wilds does not find the naming of sub-territories as an unusual practice and is surprised — making no attempts to hide it from his expression — when ainhoa asks him why it has a name. he doesn't respond right away because it wasn't a question he's ever asked; simply accepted the practice as it was and torn between saying something along the lines of 'it's just something we do' or being more elaborate. ❝i guess giving landmarks within our claims is just something we do,❞ wintersbane settles for with a shrug of his shoulders. ❝makes it a bit easier when we're trying to direct one another to a specific place.❞ but, in truth, this was merely wintersbane's own interpretation of why.

The reasoning made sense, so Ainhoa did not question it. She stood there for a moment longer to study the current before turning to Wintersbane. Is this okay, if I go to explore? she asked, wondering if he would allow her such independence. In truth, she was still filled with questions, but knew that most of them could be answered with pensive wandering.

for a moment, silence stretches between them broken only when ainhoa speaks up. there is more of the tour to give but wintersbane offers a contemplative nod all the same when she asks if she can go explore. some wolves — himself included — like to give themselves tours. he does not begrudge her the choice. ❝of course,❞ the tundrian rasps, sending her off with a small gesture of his muzzle. ❝see you around, ainhoa.❞ and with that he leaves her to her own devices, heading back towards the borders to continue his patrol.