Karst's wandering ways were rubbing off on Astyanax. Unlike his brother, however, the dark cub didn't roam for curiosity's sake. His stomach seemed to mostly guide his paws. The bones and hunks of rotting meat at the altar their foster mother tended to had satisfied him for a time, but his hunting instincts were developing and with them came a need to seek out living prey.
So the boy left the relative safety of the valley early in the morning, loping casually towards a dark forest as he followed the trail of some unknown creature. Only, as soon as he was enveloped in the pitch darkness of the woodland, he was bombarded with a variety of scents, and he quickly lost track of the singular trail that had led him out here in the first place.
Unperturbed on the outside, though inwardly overwhelmed, Astyanax set to work sniffing about the gnarled roots of trees and along the forest floor, desperate to pick out the most dominant of scents so he could begin following it.
Lane thought the kid seemed a little young to be out hunting on his own, but far be it from the half-grown yearling to judge anyone's parenting. His folks were probably very important people who were very busy doing very important things.
Or... maybe Lane was projecting? Two months and counting, and she doubted her parents had even noticed she was gone.
“The pine marten?” Lane asked, rising to her feet. She had been stalking the little morsel since daybreak, which came hella early when you were sleeping on the side of an east-facing cliff. There was a mournful note evident in her tone; if the kid wanted to take over her marten-hunt, she would have to give it up. If she told him to get lost, he would probably go tattle to his pack. Last thing Lane needed was for someone to come looking to teach a lesson to the Blackfoot Forest Bully.
So focused was he on his task, Astyanax completely missed the fact that he was being watched by another. The sudden paw steps and voice caused him to spin in a quick half circle to face the woman who had appeared, a rather plain looking timber with an inquiring honey-brown gaze. His ears pricked at her question, though he did not fully understand.
Perhaps...it was an introduction? He took a moment or two to find his words while staring blankly at the stranger, before swiping a tongue over his lips and replying at length, "mmn...Abigor." That was what that strange shadow of a man had called him, right? He offered a small, uncomfortable wave of his tail.
There was a long pause before the kid found his words, and his features were so absent of understanding that Lane wondered if he spoke a different language. His odd response did nothing to disprove this theory.
"Abi-grrr?" Lane repeated, drawing out the word. "That's a new one for me. What's an abigrr?" Maybe it was a regional term? With luck, an abigrr was something other than a pine marten. The kid gave a small wave of his tail, and she returned the friendly gesture.
She parroted the word back to him, though with an added growl, and followed it with more words. Thankfully she didn't seem to pose a threat, evident by the wave of her tail that caused Astyanax to beam in response, glad that body language had a universal understanding.
Instead of answering right away, he stretched out his neck cautiously, nose wiggling as he took in her scent. Like the forest around them, her coat held a myriad of smells, unlike the rest of the Ursus pack who each held the strong stench of the valley.
The boy was clearly puzzled. Another long moment passed as the cogs in his brain slowly turned before he spoke again. "Name." It was both a statement and a question — what was she called?
Going to just close this one since Astyanax's account has been inactive for a while.
The kid smiled. Again, Lane returned the friendly gesture, head tilted slightly to the side as she waited for him to respond. Instead of answering her, he sampled the air, seemingly in an attempt to sniff out Lane. The yearling moved closer, assisting him in his endeavor while also allowing her to more easily do the same.
He smelled strongly of other wolves-- his pack, no doubt. He hadn't been away long; no more than a half-day. So they must live fairly close.. although most certainly not in these woods. He smelled of valley grasses, and maybe a few oak and maple hints.
The boy finally replied, although Lane wasn't sure if he was answering her question or asking one of his own.
"I'm Lane," she offered, which seemed like an appropriate reply regardless. She still couldn't tell whether they were trying to communicate through some kind of language barrier. The kid was friendly enough, but something did seem kind of off.
"Okay kid," Lane began, voice lilting upward in a friendly way,
"What's got you charging into this forest? Are you running towards something, or away?" Lane glanced pointedly in the direction the kid had come from, just in case some nonverbal communication was required.