@Wraen
The rains, for all their wrath and misery, finally,
finally, seemed to be slowing. It was still far too dangerous to cross through the mountains. So she found herself here, circling towards the shores, hoping to find her way back to her Grove, her Ravens. Her sanctuary.
She had been away far too long. With the floods and landslides all through the mountains, she worried her home would be damaged. It was a constant hum of worry, as though she didn't have a thousand other things buzzing things on her mind.
As much as she served Spirit with pride, it was a tiresome path at times.
Her eyes grew wide at the sight in front of her. Sea lions! She remembered quite well, the rich, fatty, oily flesh. It was well past the breeding season, and all that lingered on the rocky pools now were orphaned pups waiting to flee to the sea, and a few late whelping cows.
The scent of a pack was strong here, and Macaria vaguely recognized the shewolf she had met in the woods, who she had offered to read her fortune.
For a moment she hesitated, she was unsure if these were pack lands, and the last thing she needed was an enemy. But she was hungry. So very hungry.
It was one of the rare days, when Wraen truly felt like her old self. She left The Sentinels in late morning and headed westwards, her mind already making plans for the next stop in their journey. Would it be the Great Bear Wilderness, their path leading so close Cerberus's lair? Or should it take them to Kintla flatlands, where Blacktail Deer Plateau was located - another important place from their family history? She recalled that it had been ages, since she had last seen Fire Hot Springs and suddenly, climbing the old paths of Sunspire seemed so very alluring. Old ghosts of past conflicts and differences of opinion had been laid to rest, today she was born anew, full of hope and youthful excitement.
She first heard, then caught sight of the sea lions. Third she noticed a she-wolf clad in pale pelt, standing several feet away from her, observing the sturdy animals. Not wishing to interrupt, what seemed to be a hunt in the making, Wraen sat down and prepared to watch. And, if the other person decided afterwards that they would like to have a company, she would provide such willingly.
After a moment of hesitation, a decision was made.
She would take no more than she needed, and leave no Trace. Hopefully, if this did turn out to be a pack's lands, her presence might not cause too much of a disturbance.
She noticed another wolf wandering near, and dipped her head in acknowledging the stranger. For a moment she thought this was a pack wolf, but when the stranger made no move to stop her, she continued.
She cut her way along the shore, cutting off the fat creature's escape. Then, with as much speed and precision as a hungry shewolf could muster, she found her target.
As its bretheren scattered for the water, the Sea lion gave a gutteral squawk and attempted to waddle away, but Macaria managed to catch hold of it's back end, and drag the struggling creature back up the beach. After a struggle, and being bitten a few times, she managed to get hold of the pup's neck, and after some Violent shaking, the pup was dead.
She looked up at the silent stranger, waving her tail in greeting.
"Are you hungry?"
Wraen watched the other wolf select it's target, separate it from the rest, attack it and after some struggle - kill it. Watching another wolf in action had an alluring quality to it. The succession of the actions was always the same, yet the dance differed from one master to the next. Beauty at it's finest, no matter the level of proficiency. She smiled.
The hunter came over and asked her to join, Wraen shook her head in response: "You take all you wish from your kill and I will gather, whatever scraps will remain. The small and elderly don't need much to live on, whereas you seem like you have a long way ahead of you." She made a guess, not that she knew anything about the girl. "My name is Wraen - may I know, what you are called?"
The elder shewolf insisted she didn't need much food, and Macaria dipped her head into the fatty flesh as the shewolf introduced herself.
Wraen, she declares her name to be, and Macaria smiles, tearing out a loop of offal and setting it aside. Although there were no ravens on this beach, other seabirds were gathering at the smell of blood. A pair of gulls got into a noisy argument over the flesh, and Macaria turned to the Shewolf.
"I am Macaria, Goddess of Blessed Death. You don't happen to be in a pack, do you?"
"Goddess of blessed death - I knew that something good was coming my way today, all signs were there," Wraen remarked, when the white she-wolf introduced herself. It felt almost as if she was in one of the folk-tales, where the main hero meets Death himself on crossroads and then either good or bad things happen.
"I am travelling with two other wolves - my sister and a good friend," she said. "So, how did you acquaire such title? I must admit that of all the names I have heard in my life - yours is by far the most original."
The shewolf mentions she has traveling companions and instantly her interest is piqued. It would be a pleasant change, if she could add this shewolf and her companions to her and Lunaria's numbers.
"If you all happen to be female, myself and my companion are setting up a home beneath where the Ravens roost. They are sacred to me and an integral part of the pack I am attempting to grow." She offered between bites, ears still flicking warily in case the nearby pack arrived. She was asked how she got her name, and the pale shewolf smiled softly.
"My home is outside of these lands. Or, was. I aquired it there." Better to keep her words minimal.
Macaria had piqued Wraen's interest by mentioning no man allowed pack. She raised an eyebrow, listened in polite silence and, once the other had finished talking, and grinned: "Well, the friend of mine is of male tribe and I do not think that he would wish to change that anytime soon."
"But do tell more about the sacred birds and what you are attempting to build," she urged the other, genuinely curious. "I remember my mom telling me about a siren pack that lived by the oceans and kept males as pets and consorts, but otherwise treated them as dirt," she reminisced. "Do you want to see women only because of your religion?"
She smirked softly at the mention of her friend being male and inclined her head.
"I wouldn't mind meeting these sirens you speak of.
I have never met a male that wasn't flawed. They lack the sense to practice the subtle arts. And I have met plenty of shewolves that could hunt and fight better than a male. My pack has no place for them. If my pack wants pups they can find a mate and bring the pup's back, and he can meet her at the border."
Nevermind the fact she was a proud lesbian and had absolutely no interest in carrying pups.
"Well, I have not met a person of either gender, who did not have flaws," Wraen replied, amused by the very concept of female supremacy, but not showing it outwardly, respecting other's beliefs. She was curious, what had made the girl so strictly against the opposite gender, but then it could be something deeply personal, which you did not discuss on your first meeting with a stranger. "In fact, I would be very suspicious of anyone, who claimed themselves to be entirely flawless," she added.
"Though that aside - never thought I should compete with males for anything, but they can be annoying," she thought back to chivalrous image of Terance and how many times he had annoyed her because he had filled in that typical male role-model and been a tad bit patronizing because of that. Not that he realized and not that her own feelings were true facts of life. "Is this gender thing driven by religion or particular goddess?" she asked. "Because from what I have seen - The Death treats everyone equally. Regardless of status, age or... gender for that matter," she referred to the title Macaria had introduced herself with earlier.
After this exchange they soon ran out of subjects to discuss and parted ways.