The journey was arduous and far-reaching, only manageable by the lack of harsh weather. Until now. The sun had reclused into the clouds and left time for light rain to soften the ground. Combined with the brisk air, the ground started to freeze, at least that what it felt like on Etephyrs paws. A relief to say the least, her cracked and crusted pads cooled from their feverish temperature. The mountains she had to clamber down left a number of contusions, cuts and abrasions. Visible cuts, patches of missing fur, stories of missteps and short falls. Etephyr knew for next season, she was not to wait out her cycle in the mountains. There wasn't much of her body left unscathed and it showed with each gingerly placed step.
.
Etephyr spotted cover within a nearby forest, its trees towering her more than normal. Dare say it felt formidable for her but Etephyr crossed into the forest nevertheless. As she explored, the woman could feel the weariness of travel creeping into her brittle bones. She yawned with a small whine, stretching her sore forelegs in front of her. The sun was far from setting, still hung at its peak but that did little to keep the woman's internal clock ticking. Etephyr decided it was time to search for a snack and then bed down for an afternoon nap. The woman stuck her muzzle into the gentle breeze and engulfed her lungs in whatever aroma the forest wore. Hooking on to something mildly edible, Etephyr followed. Her gait giving away her intent.
Further east was where her gut had told her to go, and so she did; sinking deeper and deeper into these unfamiliar lands, young and dumb and anxious for a break in the monotony. Her muscles ached from the days - no, more like weeks - of constant walking, fur ruffled and oily and begging for a dip in a body of water, eyes pale and sunken in. A mess, was what she looked like.
And a mess was not what she wanted to look like when she came across her first wolf.
How pathetic.
A stiff frame approaches a strange, feminine silhouette at a slow pace. Whether or not she had anticipated Wren's arrival from far away, she didn't know. Thunk-thunk-thunk went that little heart inside her chest, body rigid and muscles involuntarily flexed. The stench of stress probably radiated from her. She did not get too close. Only enough to where she could squint her eyes and make out the eggshell-colored peppering across the chest of the stranger; big, dark eyes that felt as if they went right through Wren's soul.
I don't suppose you're from around here,
she whistles in lieu of a 'hello', thunderous feet meeting the earth in awkward moves as she begins to form somewhat of a circle around the misty vagabond, lips parting to drink in the foreign scent she carried with her. Her tone was light, yet monotonous, laced with wariness and suspicion. I don't suppose I know you, either.
Her search was fruitless, the scent lead to an abandoned den of a fox, the stench of after birth hanging in the air. It wasn't like new mothers to move their kits so quickly after being born but Etephyr didn't care to stick around long enough and investigate any real reason. Sticking her nose into the breeze once more, the wind brought her a scent that sunk her heart. Another wolf. Etephyr hadn't seen another wolf over a week. Vehemently preferring solitude but as the initial pangs of fear wore off, curiosity took ahold. It was bewildering to see a wolf and it sounded like the feeling was mutual as the stranger awkwardly introduced themselves with
questions.
.
Etephyr turned herself to meet the stranger head on, her expression quite unfazed. Watching quietly as the unfamiliar woman creates a semi circle around her. Noting how unkempt and discombobulated they are. She wasn't entirely judging, Etephyr saw the hypocrisy, her own fur and stature was disheveled.
.
Etephyr nods her head, agreeing that they did indeed not know them. "I suppose," Etephyr teasingly mimicked. "I am not from around here. You are not from around here either I take it?" She paused. "If you were, then you would have likely known I do not inhabit these lands. What are you doing here?" The woman questioned calmly, lightly enunciating.
I'm not,
Wren's lip curls up in some form of a quirk, a flash of teeth shown in what must have been an attempt at a smile, though it looked awkward and unnatural as if she didn't actually know what to do with her mouth. I'onno, why does anyone venture out?
Her movements slow to a halt as she edges closer for a cursory sniff. The stranger smelled earthy, yet there were remnants of an odd sweetness; indicative of something Wren herself could not quite put a name to.
Her gaze travels, passing over the wiry fur of the stranger's shoulders and down to her legs, the curve of her ribcage as it met her underbelly. Pretty, Wren had decided she was, though she tries to hide her observation with a flick of her head and a dart of her eyes toward the ground. Not everyone was tolerant of such thoughts, and she was not particularly eager to test the waters with such a subject.
Her eyes meet hers once more, a crease having formed between her eyebrows. I'm gonna assume the folks of your homeland give their kids names?
The stranger smiled. Though, in a deranged sort of way. Etephyr raised an inquisitive brow but didn't protest when the stranger tested her scent. It was all a touch confusing but with the increasingly clear accent, Ete assumed their customs dictated personal space was nonexistent. She seemed harmless enough, although Etephyr was sure her smell was somewhat offensive.
The stranger confirmed they were not from the nearby lands and further questioned why a wolf would be out this far. Something Ete wasn't sure herself, she assumed she managed to aimlessly wonder this direction with no real plan.
"Fair." She stated.
What the stranger said next made Etephyrs lips curl into a tight smile, even hiding a chuckle, although her efforts were in vain.
"Etephyr." The woman breathed out in between small laughs. How long had it been since she had laughed? Days? Weeks? To her, it felt like months. Etephyr breathed out and composed herself, embarrassment growing as she calmed. Clearing her throat, she spoke.
"And your name?" Ete sought the strangers eyes and gazed at her with, surprisingly, genuine curiosity.
Mid class post, not entierly proof read! Sorry ^^
Wren,
she replies, a little wrinkle to her nose. Aquilanera, if last names mean anything to yah.
She mirrors the smile with something of her own; less clumsy than her previous attempt, more genuine. A canine tooth pokes out from under her upper lip, pearly and not yet yellowed with age. Your parents must'a had a knack for names. S'pretty. Mine just picked a goddamn bird.
She visibly relaxes to a degree, though her weight shifts from one side to the other, a nervous expulsion of energy. She takes note of the rigidity Etephyr shows, the nerves that hung in the air around them, and takes a few steps back. A difference in social customs and values was growing ever apparent, and if Wren was to make her home here, she mustn't throw it away so quickly by pushing boundaries.
So,
she drawls, ears pressing to the sides of her skull. if you're not from here, where do you come from, then?
They meant everything to her. Holding her own last name high above the rest, fit for a king; because it was. It was her fathers name, an idea from her mother, the sole thing she had left of her parents. Ete took an oath to never rid herself of her fathers name, not for a single soul. Husband or friend, they could never amount to her parents. Foregoing any explanation of her thoughts, Etephyr rested, sitting herself down; thankful that Wren finally settled down as well. Ete gave a fleeting smile in thanks.
S'pretty. Compliments. With them, the fur on her nape pricks up and sends tingles down her spine. Without hesitation, Etephyr smoothed the fur back down with a rapid shake of her neck. Pretending to be bothered by a fly, hoping Wren would be bought. Ete never knew how to take niceties. She didn't like them to start. They churned her belly, made her feel vulnerable. She didn't understand how to process or return them. Rarely did she return them, if at all, ever.
"Truly. They did." Ete reminisced, quietly forlorn.
Etephyr thought carefully about her words. Sparing a moment to construct her lie. "North, far north. A place we called Prail. Paradise on earth but everyone must leave moms teat eventually." She explained. "And you? Fresh off the milk, it looks, and ready to explore the world are we?" Etephyr flicked an ear, a cheeky, know it all, grin pressed firmly onto her lips.
I'm not a baby,
she retorts, a somewhat offended twist to her lip. She could not possibly look that young, did she? Sure, her limbs still held youthful lankiness to them, awkward and still adjusting to newfound adulthood. But with it came curves; muscle and padding that had not been there this time last year. Etephyr could not possibly be much older than her, anyhow. She herself still had some semblance of a 'youthul glow', however withered by personal events and time she may be. What are yah, a fuckin' grandma? Get outta here. You've still got some good years left in yah, by the looks of it.
The dry humor makes a return, a dimple creasing her cheek as her voice picks back up.
Wren mirrors her sit with her own, neatly placing her rump on the ground, awkwardly flicking away a twig on the ground with the tip of her tail.
She took note of her body language, oddly attentive to it as she twitches and shakes off an imaginary fly. Rigid, awkward movements; reserved. She could not judge. Wren was reserved in her own right. Niceness was not something that came easy to her, yet something about Etephyr told her to try. She got the feeling that they were not too dissimilar.
Sounds nice,
she nods, exaggeratedly moving her eyebrows to show she was listening. wish I could say that.
A shudder creeps up her spine and lingers in her bones. She'd just left her home, and frankly, the last thing she wanted was to think about it again. M'from Montana. If you know what that is.
It seems she's struck a nerve. While not entirely her objective, it did tickle Ete's sides. The woman shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes. Wren was a good sport, plucky. The word came to mind, the more Wren spoke the more she loosened Ete's guarded personality. It made her want to change, Etephyr wasn't oblivious to her beastly demeanor, but the idea of change seemed so dangerous.
Feeling charitable, Etephyr admitted, "Some days, it feels like I am one," She paused, sighing. "But, anyone who looks younger than me is automatically a baby." Ete stuck the tip of her tongue out and back in, in a swift motion. Leaving behind a genuine grin. It was to show she wasn't serious, only teasing. Slowly, the grizzled woman was beginning to learn not everything had to be so solemn or grim.
Etephyr didn't let her acquaintances' shudder go unnoticed, but not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to such a small detail, she opted to remain an ear. Montana. Ete practiced the word, rolling it around in her thoughts like a martens kidney in her maw. Squishy and hard to keep in one place, Wrens accent didn't fit the older womans own dialect. She kept squinting, forming the word in her mouth, contorting her tongue in all manner of ways. Ete was sure she was beginning to look strange.
"Muhn-tena?" She tried, testing the waters. "What is such a place? What thrives?" She asked, unfeigned curiosity present in her voice.
Wren barks out a laugh, something along the lines of a hyena's cackle, loud and haughty and full of genuine amusement. She found the thickness of her accent endearing, in a way; refreshing, compared to the sharp tongue that lapped at her ears as a child. It's, uh,
waving a paw around in front of her, she slowly pieces her thoughts together. It somewhat boggled her mind that a wolf would not know of Montana, but perhaps that was her own ignorance. it's a place, it's what those two-legged things call a 'state'.
She pauses again, watching for a reaction. Two-legged creatures did not exist everywhere, she'd recently learned. Wren had yet to notice any trace of them during her short time in Teekon thus far, which was a relief. Wren could not gauge whether or not Etephyr knew what those were, either. Lotta really, really tall mountains. Kinda like these, but... if they were more brown. Not a lot of easy food, it's really fuckin' cold, and everyone's kinda mean. It sucks. I don't really miss it.
A momentary silence drapes over the pair, coating Wren herself in a thick blanket that drew an awkward shuffle of her feet and a straightening of her posture from her. In a moment of rare vulnerability that she would likely regret, her lips part to speak once more. It's also got my family in it, which makes it suck even more.
If she had hands, she would have taken a drag from a cigarette in that moment, flicking the embers on the ground and watching as they cool on the forest floor. Or perhaps send the whole thing up in flames. But hey, it's in the past for a reason.
The boisterous laugh took Ete by surprise, but not in a negative way. It was pleasantly surprising, her ashen tail thumping absent mindedly against the forest floor. It was surprising to see someone happy because of her, everything felt a bit overwhelming but whether Ete knew it or not, change was taking hold. As Wren began to explain, Etephyr settled down and listened not only with her ears but her eyes. Brows furrowing with concern and confusion, head tilting, unable to comprehend the idea of two-leggeds. Then brown mountains, a little more believable but the image wasn't all there. Etephyr gazed at what distant mountains she could see and compared them to the bark of a tree. Her eyes squinted to try and blur the colors together but it hardly worked.
"Brown mountains and two leggeds?" She repeated quizzically. Her head tilted once more, eyes squinting with suspicion this time. "I've never seen any creature walk on two legs and call land a state. It sounds outlandish, preposterous." She challenged. Etephyrs mother used to warn her with stories of such things but it was merely an attempt at scaring her child self into behaving better. At the time, it rarely worked. Now with a complete strangers testimony of those stories holding truth, it brought unsettling questions to her mothers tales.
As silence began blossoming between them, Ete could feel the build up to something of great importance. Wrens aimless shuffling cued her in easily. The older woman was keen on listening, her heart even seemed to slow, desiring to hear but anxious its beating may impede. It's also got my family in it, and there it was. A scornful past. Ete softened, though she did not understand what transgression could have transpired between her and kin, family was important enough to elicit sympathy.
"I'm sorry." She spoke quietly, a somber tone encompassing her voice as she speaks. "I know not what your family has done but I hope it was not enough to permanently ruin any relationship you have with them." Etephyr paused for a moment, thinking somberly. "Although, you have come this far to separate yourself from them." She left it open, not really needing to finish her sentence to convey what she meant. Ete breathed deeply, occasionally seeking Wrens gaze as she waited for a response.
The conversation had gone from light and airy, childish curiosities about past lives that quickly spiraled into something that made Wren stop short, eyes flashing wide open and face instantly dropping into a ghostly frown.
I'm sorry.
Those simple two words hit her like a giant sack of bricks, a crushing weight that consumed her all too quickly and brought a ringing to her ears. She couldn't breathe for a moment, having gone completely silent aside from a momentary, desperate gulp for air, followed by a quick exhale. She physically shook herself off, as if that would erase the disgusting feeling that was now creeping up her veins and into her bones. The idea that someone had to apologize to her for having been born into such a pitiful situation - or for having been born at all - was almost worse than thee fact that it happened. Pity was the last thing Wren ever wanted. Etephyr surely meant well by it, but that sickly feeling was seconds way from making her vomit, and so she quickly deflected, forcing out a noise not unlike a nervous laugh.
Montana. Tell her about Montana. The parts of Montana not yet tainted by her father's hands.
It was normal for us, I guess,
her gaze had locked onto a bird that perched among the sprawling branches of an alder. Anywhere but Etephyr, she would look. it was less brown in the winters. A lotta snow. The snow's the only reason I'd go back home.
A weak, lopsided grin stretches at her face, though it leaves as soon as it had shown.
I'm guessing you didn't have brown mountains where you're from.
Fading here. It was lovely threading with you, I do plan to keep an eye on this one to see how her backstory progresses. Lovely character <3
Stealing away a glace, Ete was aghast with what she saw. It made her visually stumble, doing a wide eyed double take as she more intently studied Wrens face. Ete leaned away from the increasingly panicked looking young woman, extending a leg away and pulling herself to the extended leg. She wasn't sure if Wren was about to lose it or cry, neither of which Etephyr wanted to deal with. She extended her sympathies and was nice to her, to boot, but being a shoulder to cry on or bite on was out of the contract. Ete would quickly pass if either situations came to fruition.
Although Etephyr felt responsible for short circuiting Wrens brain, she wasn't about to bring up what happened and was glad to move on with the conversation. The awkwardness of Wren desperately trying to move on and vehemently avoiding eye contact wrote in bold letters that Ete needed to get the fuck out while the conversation was still somewhat pleasant.
"Yes, I must not have. Well," Etephyr stretched and fake yawned.
"I won't keep your time entangled with mine any longer. Thank you for the company. I wish you a safe journey, perhaps we will meet again someday." Ete gave a cursory bow of her head, sticking around to hear anything else Wren might want to say but departing if she didn't.