Just as Artyom and @Minnow ventured from Whitebark land and into neutral territory, the snows came. The flurry was soft at first and on the duo trekked, the gilded leader and his young ward, heading at a brisk pace toward the mountain range that loomed in the distance - its peaks obscured by cloud.
"We picked a grand day to lay some tracks," he barked, half-joking as he shifted to grin over a shoulder at the pale-furred yearling who trailed at his flank. "I hope you like the snow, маленький голубь!" He had no issues navigating the flatlands in Wintertime but, as the pair drew nearer to thair destination, he found himself quite intimidated by the treacherous slopes before them.
Artyom insisted that they rest for a while, wait out the worst of the weather. It would surely be his failure to let Dawn's young niece carry on into the spires in such dangerous conditions so, after they sourced a suitable cave to shelter for the rest of the night, he felt driven at morning's light by clear skies and replenished energy. "Shall we?" Artyom asked with a sweep of his tail, allowing Minnow to take the lead to begin their ascent.
The had made it to the mountains and before she even entered the territory the young wolf felt the wave of fear swept through her but she stood her ground this time and felt confident enough to keep on this journey.
They went to rest in a den he found and the sun beaming in her face had awoken her and she looked to her traveling companion. "So my mother's grave is at the base of the other side of this mountain close to the hushed willows border." She had brought with her a pelt from her den to gather the bones and travel with ease.
"Alright then," the ranger said, turning his head to look upon the spire with some relief. He was glad that they could avoid the higher reaches, which were sure to be made treacherous by snow and ice. From his nose came a huff of smoky breath that dissipated into the chill Winter's air, and he shifted to fix his young charge with an encouraging glance.
He could sense her fear, a discomfort right at the heart of her, and stepped forward - quietly encouraging her to keep up and maintain pace to prevent her falling victim to her insecurity. "So you were born beneath the willows," he commented, keen to keep her thoughts from turning dark, "I found them a short time ago. The land is beautiful, да? I bet it is even more so in Summertime."
The kept on traveling forward towards their destination and she listened to what he said. "Yes, but I only remember bits and peices of it sadly." She couldn't ring herself to remember all she did remember was the attack and loosing her mother whenever she did so. Minnow kept a small smile on her face however. "So where did you come from? "
When Minnow shared that she remembered very little about the land she'd been born to, Artyom initially felt a little confused. He wasn't entirely aware of the extent of trauma her family had felt there, what the willows might have come to symbolise for her. Her mother died when they'd lived there, and the ranger supposed the loss of a loved one could be enough to change everything - he was living proof of that.
"I come from far away," the pale wolf told his mate's young niece as he stepped carefully over a large rock in his path, "my family's pack is called Timiryazevskaya, and they still live far North of here." He thought of them fondly, solemnly. Of Lev and his other cousins, of his two younger sisters, of his parents. Timiryazevskaya wolves had all been family to him, and he wondered how they'd progressed in the year he'd been apart from them.
The young wolf wasn't even going to try and repeat that name of his pack, she knew she would probably fail epically and look restarted so she stayed quiet and kept her questions to a minimum. "It sounds far." She said simply and continued down the base of the mountain until she saw the mound of rocks that marked her mothers grave and she gave a small whimper at its sight. All the memories of what happened here rushing back but she shook them away. "Here we are."