Wolf RPG

This time when Antares went out this way, the weather was a little better. The skies had cleared for an instant, so he had pushed his travels into a hotter pace and set out to reach the riverside where he knew a pack once reigned. Suspicions on prior scouting attempts had already led him to believe that the pack was no more, and neither had he unearthed any sign of that youth's lost sibling. None of it was boding all that well to him, and it was looking more and more like they had accidentally welcomed a young charge into their lot. And now, of all times. Antares was feeling like an entire mess about the whole thing, and so, it manifested in restlessness.. which at least he put to good use by getting out here on it.

Still, it would likely be another trip back with no good news, but he would try. After he traced a lurking trot beside the river and continued to find nothing interesting, he raised a low note of a howl up to ask if anyone knew about Kaistleoki, Connor, Howl, or Shiloh. He only had vague names to go by, so it was the best he had, though it really felt like wasting his breath on the wind.

Other than that, once he quieted, he returned to looking around the snow-coated landscape while he was here.

Melaine's head popped up out of the sweetgrass, listening to the call. The caller sounded vaguely familiar, as did the names being requested. Lane didn't have a great memory for names or voices-- smells and tastes were really more her forte. 

She wandered toward the caller, her curiosity getting the best of her. The tall sweet-sedge shoots rustled and bent as she moved through them. Her fur was beyond sticky with their sap, but Lane didn't mind in the least. The sap was actually medicinal, and cleaning it off of her pelt later would help her paw heal further from its recent infection. 

As she exited the clump of sweetgrass, the Glen leader's dark silhouette came into view. Oh! It was Antares. As soon as she recognized the man, she also remembered where she had heard the other names before; they were the people that kid, Ryn, talked about sometimes. 

So then.. Antares was trying to get Ryn home. 

With all the misfortune that had befallen the Glen recently, you would have thought that assisting the lost pup would have been far from the first thing on Antares's schedule once the blizzard cleared. It warmed Lane's heart to see her leader out here, trying to do right by the child. 

She chuffed a greeting to Antares, although the sweet-sedge shoots in her mouth muffled the sound slightly. She knew she ought not interrupt, but she couldn't help feeling invested in the outcome here. That poor kid really tugged on her heartstrings. 

Lane lingered at the edge of the river, continuing to collect sweet-sedge shoots as she walked. She kept half an eye on Antares, in case someone appeared to answer his call or he decided to approach Lane to talk.

It didn't surprise him any to be met with silence. The land spanning around him was peaceful, and other wolftracks had been few so far. If Kaistleoki had moved on, he was not sure where to begin to look and that did nothing for the probably misplaced (and possibly dead) sibling Ravaryn had mentioned. For maybe a second, it had seemed like maybe something he could help with. Maybe. Especially with any leads on Atlas, his very own misplaced brother, being completely nonexistent.

He didn't want to have to be the bearer of bad news once again. Until now, he had tried to instill some sliver of hope. So when did he tell the girl what he was finding to be true? He wondered, knowing he was stewing properly when he felt his paws get heavier. Antares huffed a sigh, thought about feeling prickly about it, but slowed up a bit more, until realization clicked into place; he wasn't alone, and he opted to appreciate the diversion he had moseyed by.

Melaine chuffed at him, and he noticed the grass at a greater length. Hey. seemed to be what he could get himself to say, once he tried to blink off what was hopefully not too wild-eyed of a look. He drifted over closer to her, though divided his attention still. Likely she had heard his howling about, and well--his solo flight spoke for itself. None of it was all that hopeful for today. What's that for? he assumed, at least, meaning the grass she was.. probably gathering, right?

"Herrf," she responded, returning his greeting through the reeds in her mouth. She waited a moment, watching as Antares as he wrestled himself back from.. from wherever his mind had been. Everyone here was like this, it seemed-- the whole Glen was infected by this lingering, communal PTSD response that had the pack moving in achingly slow motion. The blizzard hadn't helped matters at all, as it brought all activity to a standstill and prevented the Glen wolves from returning to any semblance of normal life. 

Lane let the grass she had gathered fall to the ground, freeing her to answer. 

"It's the sap on 'em," she said, flicking her tongue a few times as she wrestled with the sap's bitter aftertaste. "Fights infection, supposedly." Smack, smack. "Not my favorite, but we'll take what we can get, yeah?" Lane was fairly skeptical of using oral remedies to treat external injuries-- she much preferred the topical antibiotics for open wounds.

"The sap tastes terrible, but it helps with carrying them," Lane said suddenly. To demonstrate, she pushed her paw (her good paw) down against one of the sweetgrass blades on the ground, and she lifted. It stuck fixedly to the bottom of her paw. Responding to some unexplainable impulse, she then reached out and pressed her paw against Antares's shoulder. She pulled away, and the large blade of grass remained behind, stuck firmly to his pelt. 

Lane stared at the piece of grass on Antares's shoulder, wondering what had come over her. Maybe it was just that the man seemed to take himself so damn seriously. It made Lane want to do something ridiculous, just to see how he would react. 

"Tag," she said finally, her gaze shifting to meet Antares's eyes. Her expression was deadly serious. With her amber eyes fixed on Antares's, Lane reached down, slowly, for another blade of grass. Deadpan. She had every intention of sticking him with another one if he didn't move away, or you know, chomp her.

As the grasses fell, he followed them to confirm that at a glance it seemed like any other grass to him. Blade-like, smelled like plant, which all checked out. Melaine pointed out the sap specifically, noting that to be where the medicinal properties stemmed from. Supposedly. He had been able to get caught up in just mindlessly zoning out to the thoughts about who figured out this sticky plant could do this, if it really did, to what extent.. and whatever else. It wasn't noise in his head about dead packmates or dead-end searches, so it was welcome enough to him.

Her motions distracted him again, and he blinked as it stuck right to him, just as advertised. The sensation of its stickiness on his fur registered soon after. Hey... he managed, still looking at the plant before the quick shift was made to her. He was a half step behind on picking up the pace she was trying to set here, but he was coming. Tag she said, and it clicked.

First he thought about swiping a sticky blade for himself to retaliate properly, but she had said they tasted bad--and he didn't want to trash them in case they really were super useful or necessary, so, next option that came to mind was going to have to do. There was little warning but he was into motion in the next breath and aiming a playful nip at her shoulder, still wearing his sticky grass badge of it. He was most accustomed to playing with his brothers, but he didn't know how Melaine would take it yet so he was trying not to overdo it--but still show that he was dreadfully game to follow through if she was going to goad him.

It took a beat, but realization finally settled across Antares's features. The barest hint of smile broke through Lane's deadpan.

She was ready for his retaliation, but even so the nip found its mark. Her defensive dodge was just a hair too slow, since she was trying to keep weight off of the injured forepaw.  

Oh, it was on. 

Lane snapped at the air by his flank, not really trying to land a hit so much as just make him flinch. She then hopped backwards nimbly, rear end rising slightly into a play-bow. She waited, poised and attentive for his next move.

Now that he was keying in to what was going on, he tried to find the fine line he would need here. So far she answered him in turn, not letting him get away with too much either.. which was appreciated, even if his nip found her. He liked a challenge, and wanted to see what sort of one she could pose to him.

When she snapped after his flank, he moved to tuck his rump well out of her reach.. and since she didn't follow through massively on the pursuit, his gesture might've looked a little over-exaggerated in turn. But, he whipped his tail and considered it a small win anyway as he spun away, and after a second to flaunt it, he sprang into a prance to make for more distance between them--all to see if Melaine would chase after him, or if he would have to circle back upon her. Either way, he knew it was important to stay adaptable.

Now that Antares was clued in to what was going on, he wasn't going to let Lane land another free tag. He spun fluidly, pulling his rump out of reach, and then he added a little flourish of his tail just to goad her (or so it seemed to Lane). Antares was clearly practiced at this sort of thing. While Antares's motions were graceful, controlled, and flexible, Lane appeared much more static, and her movement was comparatively sluggish. Fighting-- even just playfighting-- was not her forte, but that wouldn't keep her from enjoying herself. 

Lane was easily lured into following. She lurched forward, aiming a nip at his ankles as he danced away. She continued to pursue as he initiated the chase. Lane was so wrapped up, she almost forgot about the pile of sweet-sedge shoots she had collected. She doubled back after a short moment, grabbing up the pile before pressing after Antares. She would chase and play until the pain in her paw required her to take a break and seek out her medicinal stores. 

In the middle of re-bandaging her infected paw, an idea struck Lane. The sweet-sedge sap would make a helpful addition to her usual antiseptic blend, as the stickiness would help the mixture adhere more firmly to the wound and keep the bandage in place. Lane stirred the sap into her mixture. The thought of discovering new and better medicines was almost as exciting to the yearling as the play session from earlier. Although the afternoon had not gone as she expected, it had unexpectedly turned out to be both fun and productive.