Wolf RPG - precious and fragile things

All welcome- can be used as a trade thread for counselor if needed!

Something had died here. Whatever it was, it had left a pungent stain on the grass, criss-crossed with coyote tracks who had scattered the bones and rendered them unidentifiable. Dovev's muzzle lifted from the ground, his gray pools almost colorless in the hazy day. Clouds were billowing in almost every direction, and they were moving quickly to blanket the valley in a thunderous sheet of rain.

He stood on a ridge, his paws gripping the slanted earth that was steeping far above his head in a wall of rock. The mountains had always been an object of abject fascination, having remember traversing the entire range in his first few years of life. But the north was void of any spiny peaks and rambling mountains. The tundra was flat, tough, and was permanently frozen just a foot or less underground. But the Teekon Wilds were set high into the air, especially where this concentration of wolves were found. It wouldn't be long until this wild became just as cold as the spring Arctic.

As he scanned above, he could observe glaciers looming in the dark sky, forever frozen in any season. The Swiftcurrent creek was a thread far below him. The valley was a large crevice covered in meadows and forests, and the mountain ridges halted and opened up onto the wide plain where the creek snaked towards the valley which held Arrow lake at it's center. It was a pleasant, majestic area, and the air was cool and humid by the approaching rain clouds. It was an easy sight on the eye.

Hover for translations :)

The welsh prince missed the sea so much it hurt, he missed the calm waves that crashed against the shores, that soothed him and made him forget his problems but he also missed the churning waters that crashed against the beach, flinging sprays of salt water into his face and often, the welsh wolves stood by the shore, watching the sea with fascination as it churned and stirred and rolled around. Just as the elders of his pack use to say: “Mae'r môr yn hardd ond yn beryglus ar yr un pryd. Mae rhai bleiddiaid fel ni yn dysgu i werthfawrogi a chariad y ddwy ochr, ond mae eraill, ond yn gweld yr ochr peryglus ac yn aml yn ofni ac yn casáu yr union beth sy'n ein bwydo."

Swiftcurrent Creek was a nice place but it would never be able to replace the hole in his heart that only the sea could fill besides he felt as if he wouldn't stay at the Creek for long. There was tension in the air, it had began to fade but he felt it nonetheless even if he couldn't actually see it or know what it was. If he had known that the Roman had been here before he was banished, he would have left without a second thought. Not because he didn't like it here or wasn't loyal, he was actually loyal and kinda liked it here but because loyalty and brotherly love to the Roman overruled the pack that he had only joined for a week?

Today he left the Creek behind him, eager to do some exploring. Steady paws led him up onto a ridge where a scent touched his nostrils. It was a wolf from Swiftcurrent Creek but one he had not met yet. Quietly he approached and spoke in his soft and calm voice “helô" before remembering, sighing and switching to english. "Hello, you must be from Swiftcurrent Creek." he spoke in his lightly accented voice.

The brute's visage was positioned facing north, out where the valley opened up into Swiftcurrent's realm. Slowly he picked his way down the steep grassy terrain to the nearby pine trees. His white fur was rubbed up against the rough bark, and his eyelids closed over his pale orbs as an itch melted away underneath his soft fur. Small droplets of water were beginning to trickle down the needles and discolor his muzzle as cold rain began to roll in.

Something blurry moved in the distance, a figure climbing up the steep grassy hills that led to the alpine levels that Dovev stood on. At once he stepped away from the shade of the tree, his legs falling into a confident stride. With parted jaws he extended his nostrils, scenting the approaching wolf, and slowed to a stop. He smelled like Swiftcurrent, and the white beast lowered his tail and watched the dark-hued male cross the meadow. He spoke a greeting in a strange, accented word, and then reiterated again.
Hello, you must be from Swiftcurrent Creek.
Dovev shook out his pelt, the rain picking up intensity and cooling the air several degrees. This male was the second one of his packmates he had met who carried some remnant of a natal dialect. Not that it bothered him, as more over he was entertained by the range of characters in the pack. The arctic creature met his eyes and his tail flickered slightly, the base raised as if to preclude his seniority in the lower ranks.
I am. What brings you up this side of the mountain?

Keen blue eyes did not miss the way the arctic creature's tail lifted ever so slightly and he would have scoffed openly if he hadn't been one to do that though he did not doubt that the Roman would have done that. He wasn't afraid of other wolf's opinion and he supposed it was a flaw and a good point at the same time. Instead the welsh prince merely dipped his head slightly and spoke in a quiet but strength filled tone "Exploring," he said. "What is your name?" he asked politely.

Bright blue eyes surveyed the other male with expressionless eyes, his tail flicking from side to side amiably but for those who knew him well, it meant that he was either going to fight, or ready to merely leave. He wasn't really in a mood to socialize now and to be honest he didn't even know why he approached the other Creek wolf in first place.

There was a certain draw for wolves to roam, tasting and sniffing out each part of the vast landscape. It helped to familiarize and become comfortable in their new homes. Dovev himself had found excitement in perusing the wide slopes against the mountain ranges, and wandering through conifer forest as he kept the image of Swiftcurrent far to his right, blurry in the distance. Now the white wolf had found company in a packmate, the young black wolf whose eyes held an unwavering shade of blue.

Rather than be his usual abrasive, frayed, self, Dovev returned the greeting with a light nod, a smile curled on his lips. Although the grin was meant to be warm, the soaked white fur upon his jaws made his lips ragged with tufts of ivory fur and pulled back to reveal his back molars. It was a brief expression before it faded away and was replaced by the intense stare of pale silver eyes.

That's understandable. I'm Dovev, and you? the beast responded, stepping off to glance back at the trees with flared nostrils. The air was beginning to smell of damp leaves. The grassy meadow they had met on was sloped sharply to the line of pine trees and ash, their floors covered in thick tufts of grass and rock. It was valley, and eventually, through the trees, would be the upper Arrow lake, in which the shadows of trees would dance upon it's surface. It was a quiet place, with only the sound of rain drizzling onto the earth echoed in Dovev's ears.

Good place for a pack, huh? he reflected lightly, glancing over his shoulder at the ebony male. Just out of curiousity.

"Cadfael but you may call me Ddraig. I prefer that." he replied with a slight tilt of his head and a brief smile. Midnight blue eyes scanned the arctic creature with concealed wariness wondering why he was here in first place when he could be sitting alone by the Creek thinking or searching for Hadrian. Talking to this useless creature in front of him felt worthless. Nothing would come out of this exchange here, nothing at all and he was here wasting his goddamned time.

The male broke the silence between them, Good place for a pack, huh? the creature said, silver eyes unnervingly similar to the Roman's. Although Hadrian's eyes had been pure silver, brighter, colder and harsher. Just out of curiousity. He had never really liked these places, preferring the cold and the constant crashing of waves against the shore but replied "Yeah I suppose, if anyone likes to live in these places." another brief smile.

The male had disclosed some sort of exotic nickname- Ddraig. Then again, coming from a culture that used names to delineate families, everything else sounded odd. He wondered if his own moniker sounded strange to the young ebony brute.

Well, what would be your ideal place? Dovev questioned his packmate, shifting his hind legs a bit. Dovev himself would much prefer open tundra to the sloping pine valleys that they were in now, and Swiftcurrent had been the closest option. But he had rather come to like the enigmatic shadows dancing under the conifers and aspens, and the cool breeze that emanated from them. Although the wolf didn't remember much of his birth territory, it had a similar look to Rising Sun Valley.

A broad grin appeared on the ebony warrior's features, midnight blue eyes glowing with a distant homesickness, happiness and melancholy all mixed together. "I have lived by the sea all my life, or at least the life I know and remember and if I could, I would've chose to live there again. But I doubt I will be able to with none of my family there with me and the ocean's waves reminding me of my home. Swiftcurrent Creek is an ideal place I guess, for they have a large source of running water despite not being the sea." he stopped, aware that he might have been rambling. But whenever someone had him on the topic of the sea, the waves, everything, it reminded him of Moroedd Dreigiau and he could, would talk nonstop about it.

The welsh prince did not remember much of his birthplace, having only lived there for a few weeks. He recalled the faint murmurs of a voice, probably his mother, his siblings pushing and shoving around and then it was all gone, replaced by the comforting crashing of the waves against the shore and an unfamiliar language which was now his native tongue.

His back legs went down first, and then his front as Dovev stretched his body briefly, tail straining to the west behind him. The cool droplets of rain seeping into his pelt were a welcome reminder of the winter, although through his thick coat, he wouldn't feel it. With such insulated fur, snow would stick rather than melt to Dovev's plush cloak, and his skin would remain warm and dry.

With the mention of his homeland, Dovev watched a transformation appear in Ddraig's eyes, starting with a small glimmer that flickered brighter with each word. It was hard to deny such passion when one reminisced about love; something this charcoal lad clearly carried. The mention of waves caused the arctic beast to ponder the fact that the northern bay had a similar look, although the Ykvev only strayed near it to hunt. This male had probably been born and raised in an ocean environment.

I think I prefer dry land, myself, Dovev responded with an arched wave of his tail. We hardly had such rain in the tundra. With a lift of his muzzle, he mentioned to the gray skies that were flinging small water flecks onto the bridge of his nose. They pooled and rolled down his white fur, leaving clumps of watered-down hair.