Wolf RPG

she's on the look-out for more herbs for her store. starting over in a new place means restocking her supply and growing accustomed to the local flora. today, she's found herself in a forest neighboring the coast, and she's rather taken with the state of the trees here. natshana is staring at one, enthralled by the red sap that appears to bleed out of it. she's never seen anything quite like it in her life. so, she goes in for a sniff. it smells bitter, like most herbs. her brow furrows.

if she had been a younger wolf, she may have tried to lick it, but she knows better know. perhaps she can find a local wolf and ask them the nature of this liquid. it's possible that it could have healing or poison properties, and she's happy either way. in the meantime, though, she continues to root around for herbs that are on the mental list she's made for this particular search.

eyes emoji

whatever it was that sent them to ravensblood forest wasn't any misplaced attachment to the place. they didn't even have any special attachment to home, beyond the fact that at least the court was competent. all for the best, since donovan would've been in quite a position if he'd tried to keep it. renard was still surprised he'd left instead of spending his time running his head into another. how willing would nemisis have been to run? she had been worse than he was.

it had been satisfying, watching her die. their only regret was that it wasn't them who'd taken her head from her shoulders – but there had been quite a line for the privilege. not smart to make that many enemies until you were ready to take them on, and still he continued.

so maybe just for the fun of it, then. a tour of the place donovan had wanted to call home before he'd ruined it. objectively it was better than redsand canyon – objectively, donovan could have moved them a dozen better places than an empty desert.

renard might have ascribed some intelligent thought to the decision back then, but that was all misplaced. apparently they'd even been capable of optimism a couple of months ago.

there was nobody else who'd taken the place up in the saints' absence. a lot of old scent trails and then a fresher one. one they would have left alone if it wasn't quite so familiar. not the saints, but a way they couldn't quite place.

nice to be back somewhere they had experience with. they moved much more comfortably and quietly through the trees than canyon sand, coming to a stop when they caught sight of her, busy examining the sap rolling down a tree trunk. that seemed to be a popular attraction here.

they thought of themselves as having a decent memory – couldn't afford not having one – but her appearance was no help. violet eyes gleaming in the shadow, they lifted their head and regarded her thoughtfully, scenting the air.

a twitch of an ear is the only initial response she has to the sound of an approach of someone (or, something). her gaze - quite obstinately - stays glued to the sap she's currently inspecting. her mentor had often remarked how foolish and self-hazardous natshana was. where a warrior of her pack may jump to a defensive position at the slightest rustle of leaves, the apothecary bears no such desire. she knows fully well that if she is to be attacked, then she will die. that is simply the way of life. she knows minimal fighting skills and has all the physical strength of a mighty lamb. if this is death come to claim her, the best she can hope for is to posture a provocative one-liner in somewhere before she goes.

"you are staring," she observes without turning her eyes or head toward whoever has arrived. natshana assumes they're a wolf, but she's been wrong before. it would seem, at least, that the local fauna in these lands interacts more readily with the lupine population. so, perhaps she is wrong. "do you know what this is called?" the young wolf decides to ask her new-found companion the probing question on her mind. for the first time, she turns her head to look at them. they're a striking figure with eyes more purple than she has ever seen. how lovely.

"i am wondering if it may be used for healing or hindering," natshana voices her thoughts aloud, quite conspicuously not elaborating on what hindering may mean (although, it isn't difficult to guess).

"i am," renard returned, a half-smile lingering around their lips even though she didn't bother to move. maybe she was very confident. maybe she was just stupid. maybe she was resigned to knowing if they wanted to kill her, they could.

all intriguing prospects. renard turned them around in their head for the long few moments it took her to continue, and even then their smile did not drop. not bothering to hide now – she knew they were there – they took another step.

"not my area of expertise, unfortunately," they said, coming to an unhurried stop as she turned to face them. she was no more familiar with her face visible than she'd been with just her back, just her scent. the thought prickled frustratingly at the back of their mind.

dove might have known. if they'd ever bothered to interact with any of the wolves gathering to the saints like flies on a carcass. but all they'd seen of her medical expertise was her muzzle black with blood and her teeth around nemisis' decapitated skull.

but maybe that was a little too harsh a judgement. for the saints? that was healing.

"the last people who lived here considered it decoration." their lip curled upward, baring a flash of teeth. "we all have our tastes."

"how unfortunate," she casually laments, clearly none too bothered despite her language. the bloody sap now shelved for a later time, she refocuses her full attention to renard. she doesn't yet realize it consciously, but she knows this wolf -- not personally, not really, but from stories praimfaya told her. although it's an excruciatingly slow process, the pieces are beginning to come together.

"what is your area of expertise, if i may ask?" before she can stop herself, the question is posed. clarity finds her shortly thereafter, and she chuckles, realizing her fault. what reason would this wolf have in sharing such an intimate detail with a stranger? her mother would balk at her lack of social graces. "i suppose my name would be suitable collateral for that information. i am natshana." even if they do not accept the trade, she doesn't mind giving it. she has come to realize it is unavoidable, and she has no desire for pseudonyms these days. her eyes have settled on them again as if her subconscious is trying to jog her memory. a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon plagues her.

"it's strange, but there is something familiar about you that is difficult to explain."

renard's smile widened at her pause, her accompanying chuckle. good question: just a shame it wasn't one they were willing to give an answer so easily. smoother ways to find one; a name was hardly fair collateral for an occupation when their occupation was what it was these days. all that time among the saints – that had been as close to genuine as renard got, at first.

now it was spying. and this agreement with yuèlóng wasn't that much different.

it hadn't been so long since they'd left, and even if it had been, renard knew the scent of the saints by now. three months only, but those were things they were trained to memorize, and there was no trace of it on her. donovan wouldn't have sent some new recruit after them, if he even cared at all.

if he had, well. it would be a learning experience for them. wasn't that what this whole trip south had been about, before donovan had taken it upon himself to fuck everything up?

"a soldier of sorts," renard returned. every good lie had a little truth in it and this one was no different. "i'm renard." their eyes on her face didn't shift, and it was getting a little annoying, to tell the truth, not being able to put the proverbial finger on this. they should have been able to.

their nostrils flared. "you know," they said, "i could say the same for you."

their name is the light bulb moment.

"renard," she repeats it back to them with a knowing smile and nod. "you are the selltooth pledged to my cousin. she spoke highly of you," natshana assumes that renard will have no issue assuming who she is talking about. "we both fly the same banner, which means we are from the same kru. it is good to finally meet you." another bob of her head, this time more respectfully, is offered. praimfaya had painted a great image of renard, and thus far, they seem to live up to those expectations.

"i only recently came to join the commander," natshana reveals to renard, all thoughts of small-talk and herbs banished from her mind. she now wants to get to know the wolf praimfaya put so much trust in, in their own words. it does not matter if they provided answers she already knows. "would you like to walk with me? i am curious to learn how you came to serve under my cousin's banner."

Natshana

Renard

Natshana

Renard

Natshana

Renard

Natshana