the early morning is overcast, the chill of the overnight hoarfrost settling into his bones as ingram paces through the trees of blacktail deer plateau. thick, heavy clouds block the stars from his view and only an occasional sliver of moonlight illuminates the chaotic veil of cloud coverage where they thin.
grasses, browning and coarse are covered in a layer of frost that crunches under his heavy steps as he draws nearer to the stream that acts as a sort of natural border for the plateau. it gurgles and trickles as it runs over smoothed stones and pebbles, rough edges made sleek over the constant motion of the water and time.
a pearlescent moonstone catches his eye as he laps at the water and though he has never been much of a magpie he steps into the chilly water to scoop the rock up from the stream bed, thinking to himself that it might, perhaps, make a nice gift.
The plateau reminded Taliesin of one of his childhood haunts. He had never stayed in one place for very long as a child, a trait that translated seamlessly to adulthood. It allowed him to constantly discover new marvels and meet new people. He was contemplating that when he spotted a lone figure stepping into a stream as if to retrieve something. Intrigued, Taliesin moved to greet the other wolf.
Hello there,
He said when he was in earshot. The wolf appeared alone but smelled of others, so Taliesin hung back, instinctively wary of a possible aggressive encounter with a pack wolf. He was curious about what the other wolf was doing, though.
ingram's focus was on the moonstone, on the process of retrieving it while getting as little of himself wet as possible and carefully cradling betwixt his jaws that he did not notice the other ( a foolish mistake for an aspiring warrior ) until words break the quiet tranquility that had settled over ingram.
his guard hairs bristle upon instinct and his grip upon the moonstone tightens before he relaxes his jaw and it falls with a dull thud to his paws in the grass.
what do you want?
ingram asks of the gold-wheat and ebony colored male; weary and rude as always around and to strangers.
Sorry,
Taliesin offered out of habit when the other wolf looked bothered by his presence. He noticed that the dark male looked fairly young and a little gangly, like one still filling out his frame. Not a man yet, then. A boy, one who smelled of too few others to be a pack wolf.
I'm a traveler, I was hoping one of the locals could tell me more about this area,
He continued. He figured that maybe the boy's youthful tendencies would offset his surliness enough to make for a worthwhile conversation. If it turned out to be a lost cause, Taliesin would just find someone else to question. If this boy was any indication, it wouldn't be too difficult to find someone else living around here.
the older male apologized; a strange reaction to ingram's question as it did not explicitly give him any sort of answer. easily annoyed, this caused ingram's nostrils to flare like a bull's; the saving grace being that they were far enough away from neverwinter forest that he did not feel the urge to chase off. though the moonstone was certainly pretty enough to trigger his instinct towards possessiveness, this is assuaged before it can take root if only because ingram does not notice the older male's attention wander to it.
a traveler, the stranger then replies, looking for a local. as far as they went ingram was far from the friendliest; young or otherwise.
and, truth be told, ingram knew little of these lands beyond ursus. he did not know the other packs that lingered in the wilderness beyond the other that touched the southern border of neverwinter forest and even then he had no solid information beyond that they existed.
i'm not local.
at least, not by the standards of the 'helpful guide' local. the teekon wilds were vast and he had a long way before knowing all of it's secrets and exploring all of it's too numerous territories.
It didn't take a genius to recognize that the conversation was going nowhere fast. Taliesin hadn't seen anyone for days, though, so he wasn't about to give up without a fight. He could probably get some information out of this boy even if he wasn't a local or friendly. Information was worth as much as a good conversation.
Right. So your group is just passing through, then?
Taliesin tried to sound nonchalant. He was prepared to leave any moment, just in case his questioning was taken the wrong way. Even a passing group was a threat.
while ingram would not call the little twosome ( perhaps trio, i'm not sure if ingram knew about morgana at this point or not ) a 'group'; but he does not bother to correct. perception was everything, he knew. the larger they seemed, the less likely they were to be squashed out — or so, this was how ingram's thought processes went anyway.
yes.
he replies simply, offering no further explination. that seemed true enough. they had no real home, though for the time being they haunted the neverwinter forest. he suspects they will not stay there forever, as close to ursus as it was.
it provided shelter and food and freshwater and that was enough for the time being. not to mention, he has no real idea of where his shadow intended to go. all he knew was that he would follow.
a conversationalist, ingram was certainly not.
Yes. That was all the response he received, following the pattern set by the beginning of the conversation with frustrating consistency. Taliesin had never met such an infuriatingly reticent youth before, but he wasn't too concerned with it beyond a moment of wanting to dropkick him off the plateau. Alright. Good luck with that,
He said simply. I'll be on my way, then.
And with that, he was. He would just have to find someone friendlier to answer his questions. Where there was one, there were usually more, so hopefully that wouldn't be too difficult. Hell, it would probably be easier than trying to draw a conversation out of this kid.
ingram did not budge, offered no sort of apology or attempt to re-start the conversation as the older man accepted that ingram was like talking to a brick wall and moved on. it was truth enough: he was not familiar with this area and he was never chatty to begin with. the ( soon to be ) keeper was reluctant to share anything about those he travelled with. an instinct to protect ...even if it was a bit misguided.
his paw moves off the moonstone when the older male had vanished out of sight and he scoops it back up betwixt his jaws and heads back the way he'd came, squirreling it away in some hiding spot or another when he returned to neverwinter forest.