Wolf RPG

Maiken had traveled further than she had dared in some time. Though a longing for some sort of herb life that she could gather and take back to her new home, was what drove her. There was much to be done. She wanted it all to work out as well as it could.

Arlette had grown quiet since her child's painful hunt. And Maiken in an effort to not bother her, was trying to grow the things she wanted. So that this would make her happy. Give her a small bit of happiness during the turmoil in her life. For a moment Maiken briefly thought of the wolves from her past, her parents and the wolf beast @Jörmungandr . He had both fascinated and irritated her, so bias with their blood and last names. Last names that had no home here in these wilds.

She continued through the weld, searching for Rosemary or Thyme. Singing a norwegian folk song in a clear, high, voice. Hitting all the notes. Something she hadn't dared to do in some time.

Den store, hvide flok vi se,
Som tusen berge ful av sne,
Med skov omkring av palmesving,
For tronen. Hvo er det?

It had been many months since the dark wolf had crossed paths with the Svartravn healer. Their last encounter had baffled him to his core. He was still unable to comprehend the willingness to pledge herself to a pale-fur. It was not in them, to submit so willingly to the enemy. To Jörmungandr, it did not matter that they had left their homes and their blood. The dark wolf carried these things with him, ingrained in the fibres of his very being. Without them, the tradition would die. 

In the unfamiliar weald, the dark man believed he heard a familiar song. The voice called to him, a reminder of his home. The large figure stalked through the wood, eye hungering for the presence of the voice to reveal itself. It could not be a trick of the gods, he thought with a shrewd narrowing of his wine-colored gaze. Jörmungandr breathed a gust into the winter air. 

Just ahead of where the imposing figure stood was a lithe dark shape. 

Svartravn healer, he growled into the air. The gods must have been toying with him, then. The dark wolf could now smell the remnants of the pack she had joined. The stench of the unworthy, he mused internally as his snout was lifted to sniff at the wind.

The meeting with the brute of a male, had been hard to swallow. She had not wished to cause him unrest. Had wanted to make him an aquaintance at the very least, but she wondered if perhaps she had burned that bridge with her actions. However, she couldn't in good conscience allow him to speak ill of Fury, when despite all reasons not too, she had given Maiken something no one else had ever done. A home and the freedom to heal as she pleased. She didn't know how to make this common knowledge, how to share why this meant so much.

Maiken wound her tiny dainty body through the trees. Her fur had grown out with it's winter coat, giving her a glossier appeal than usual. And she had finally begun to put on weight, where before she had been bones. For that she was happy for. She was finally living a healthy life, even if she didn't get to have her family and her language so near. She could make those sacrifices.

A gruff voice called to her, and she cut her song off, mid sound and turned to meet the red eye of the dark wolf. Brown eyes blew wide and against her better judgement, her tail wagged just a bit. But then she frowned.

My name is Maiken, or Mai if you prefer, Jormungandr. How do you fare? The language of their people jumping unhurried and unbidden to her maw.

The dark woman remembered him. He was grateful to not be forced to endure reintroductions. When her name failed him, she supplied it - Maiken. It was not a common name among the Svartravn wolves of his home pack, but she carried their dark fur and name, anyway. As much as he looked down on her choices, she was the closest thing to home that he might find in those unfamiliar lands. Her mind could be changed, he thought. She was not beyond saving. The black raven would guide her back to reason. 

I am well enough, was the grunt of a response she received. Jörmungandr regarded her with a shrewd eye. He seethed, knowing the path she had followed. It was beyond his ability to understand. The dark man was a killer and Maiken was a healer. They did not share in likemindedness. The burly man had likely killed as many wolves as she had healed, if not more. He had not kept a running tally in many years. The lives he had stolen had once been a point of pride. He had aged beyond the need for boasting in that way. 

You are still pledged to the pale-furred dog. Not a question, but a rumbling statement. Disapproval hung on his features.

She wondered briefly if he even knew her name. Her's was not usual, and it had even been different than her siblings. More of a difference to show how she didn't belong. Perhaps that was the reason behind her choices of sorts. She had never felt as if she belonged even in the packs of her home lands. But here in large form was a piece of home, she could touch. Well, she imagined he wouldn't like that, but he was near enough. Though she hadn't been homesick, not really.

This wolf was everything she stood against. she was a healer, her mission was to do no harm and fix the harmings of others. However, she also was a Svartravn, and she had learned to fight and kill and maim, at a young age. Even if she didn't like it. She could do it. She utilized her gifts more for putting someone out of misery when their wounds were too far gone to heal.

Maiken sighed. I feel that pledged is too strong of a word. We have a mutual understanding. I heal for her, she allows me free roam to hone my craft with protection if i should warrant it. In case you haven't noticed, despite that I can hold my own. I'm not very large. So sometimes I need that little extra protection in the wings. You'll get wrinkles if you continue to frown that way. She admonished him with a gentle teasing lilt to her words.

I am hunting for Thyme and Rosemary. Would you like to keep me company?

Maiken described her arrangement with the white-furred wolf. They had come to an understanding of each other. She was allowed to practice her healing arts as she pleased, while also having the safety of her pack’s protection. Jörmungandr wondered what the white dog got from such a deal, but believed that she must have been too foolish to consider one for herself. This pleased him, the insulting of the white-furred abomination. It eased the tension from his shoulders and back. 

Maiken asked if he might join her on her hunt for herbs. He knew nothing of rosemary or thyme. The man could not have predicted their uses, if his life depended on it. He would also be little use to her in locating the plants. Jörmungandr wondered why she had asked. He considered that the gods had directed her to him for saving. Furthermore, he had no plans in the weald, beyond hunting. 

Fine. 

The one-eyed man motioned for her to lead their way.

Fury had gotten as much out of this as Maiken did. She was able to have a healer on hand for the scraps they were in. As well as a midwife for when she became due with babies. This benefitted her, not Maiken, other than to build her trade.

She didn't think he would know of herbs or their uses, but it was nice to have company of someone familiar. She liked the wolves in Hidibrandr, but there was just something about someone who was a small dose of home. It was nostalgic she supposed.

A soft chuckle stirred her lips, and she looked at him with amused eyes, but nodded. She moved through the trees and the shadows. The light dancing on the snow and then to her pelt. The soft crunch beneath her paws.

Rosemary grows near trees. It has a sort of rounded leaf shape, and it smells a bit strongly. But it can be used for infections, and wounds.

Thyme grows more near rock faces. It has star shaped leaves. It's scent is not a strong. It can also be used for infections and winter ailments.

She looked back to the hulking beast over her shoulder. Are you settling well enough?

It was only amusement that she offered in the form of a small chuckle. The dark man did not think on her patience, but she must have had a great deal of it. Even as they walked, Maiken offered him bits of wisdom. She explained how they might find rosemary and thyme. The little plants were described to him so that he could understand their importance.

Jörmungandr had been treated by healers. The Svartravn wolves had a few exceptional ones in their blood. If he knew more of her, the dark man might have considered Maiken to be one of them. She had mostly abandoned their beliefs so that she could chase the passion of a medic. It seemed a silly thing, to him. She could treat the wolves of dark fur and leave the pale ones. There were many wolves that suffered, anyway.

Is this the rosemary? he rumbled to her. Jörmungandr had fixed his wine-red eye on a round-leafed plant that had sprung up near the base of a juniper tree. Were it not for the scent of the juniper, the little plant might have made more of an aroma. While he waited for her to inspect it, the dark wolf considered their paths again.

I have not settled, yet. I do not wish to serve under a pale-furred leader. I will not submit to them. The one eye lifted to her features, resting impassively on her face. You should not, either. I could give you a place to heal. A Svartravn leader. A taste of home.

If she had garnered nothing from the sickening existence she had lived before, it was indeed that she had learned patience at her father's knees. She had learned when to wait, when to attack and when to let those around you implode upon themselves. She didn't like the dark aspects of such a thing as patience, but she understood them.

Maiken had not forsaken Svart, no. What she had done was find a place she could offer healing and learn more. And she still offered prayers to the dark raven, she still held her breath when ravens flew overhead. She minded them, respected them, and revered them. She was just not vocal in her prayers and her awe.

A soft call to her and she turned towards it, pressing near his larger leg to sniff. It probably didn't even feel more than a pinprick as different as their size differences were, this behemoth next to the runt of her litter mates and pack. She wrinkled her nose at the scent that colored the air and then smiled and gave a nod.

Yes. She slowly dug around half the plant, only taking enough to grow. Leaving the rest to grow here. She placed it gently in her rabbit skins, being sure to wrap soft, wet snow and ice around it.

An ear went back to him as he spoke and she gathered her herb. Though when she was done, she sat to her haunches and looked up at him with bright brown eyes, and listened a knit in her brow.

She dipped he muzzle and placed a tiny paw at the edge of it for a moment. Then she nodded.

You find a place to settle, and a place for me to take half of my plants to grow. Then I will join you. If you can promise me the freedom to hunt for herbs and hone my craft. I also can offer poisons and toxins, though i don't like them.

For all that they shared, the two Svartravn wolves were considerably different. The woman was soft in her nature, with her words, and showed a level of care that Jörmungandr had never offered to another beast in all his life. They should not have gotten along. They should have voiced their disagreements and resented each other for their stark differences.

Instead, the one-eyed man watched as she inspected the herb. She confirmed that it was what she had been looking for. Jörmungandr nodded his head. It had not been a difficult search, for that specific one. He wondered how often she was seen mulling around in the dirt, pawing at leaves and roots to find precisely what she needed for her stocks. The dark man was a warrior. He had never known the appeal of plants and herbs. What had drawn the woman to them? Jörmungandr could not quite believe that her passion was sustained entirely by her desire to help others.

When Maiken agreed, saying that he would need to meet certain requirements, Jörmungandr squinted on her and then offered a cold smile in approval. This pleased the Svartravn man. He was soothed by the thought of surrounding himself in beautiful dark fur.

What made you journey down the path of plants? the one-eyed wolf asked.

Maiken didn't know much about this beast of a male. He was what Svartravn wolves should be, absolutely. Had she brought him home to her father, he'd have accepted him without question and claimed him better than she.

She was gentle to his hard edges, and she found he intrigued her more than seh cared to admit. Never had anyone gotten her to let her guard down so well.

His question drew her pause and she placed a paw near her face as she thought of the answer. She looked up at him with brown eyes and dipped a tiny muzzle down.

I was the runt. I couldn't fight or hunt as well as my family. My father wanted to kill me, but as you know Svartravn's always need healers. So my mother kept me alive, she nursed me to health anyway. Taught me how to cure ailments and fix wounds. Then when I couldn't learn from her anymore i moved on to others until I knew all i could that was offered in that little village. And I took solace in the plants after every beating and wound my father littered me with. Have you not seen all the scars?

They were everywhere on her. Tiny nicks and bits where her father had wanted to maim, and kill and wound.

Jörmungandr listened. His features were grim, unmoving. Only once in her speaking did he cant his head from one side to the other. Maiken had been the runt of her litter. Her father had wanted to kill her. She even referenced her scars, as though that should speak for the troubles she had suffered. It was not wise to mention scars before the black wolf. He was riddled in them, marred from snout to haunch with the memories of his victims.

Hm.

The noise was something akin to thoughtfulness. The dark man pulled his attention from her and fixed his single eye on the distant trees. His expression did not change. Runts were not common in his home. They would have been pariahs. It was fortunate that Maiken had been given the chance to be a healer. She had been able to live a life under Svart’s glory.

Everyone has scars.

The man’s single eye shifted back to her.

The man had very little facial expressions. Which honestly didn't bother Maiken. She had answered his questions. She was used to silent type men. Those that felt they were better than others, because of the glory of their gods. Her family had been riddled with them. So to her, he was no different than those she knew of. So his reactions amused her actually. Because she also knew, even if he said nothing. He heard every word she said.

Hmm. Very true. I suppose. You obviously have your fair share, but it just means you fought for the glory of Svart and your homeland.

She shrugged small shoulders and looked up at him, brown eyes seeking.

I believe I have everything I need. Would you like to part ways? Or would you like to take me back to my pack? Light amusement laced her words. She didn't expect him to walk with her anywhere. She'd lead him further into the woods and then cut towards home, giving him a kind goodbye.

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