Wolf RPG

Midnight had come, and with it the winter’s cold and a light dusting of flurries. Light and flaky, they drifted to the ground lazily, swinging and swirling in the faint, whimsical breeze. The air smelled of cedar and ice; a refreshing combination of earth and water. 

He felt himself drawn toward the area by the taste of the air, and how the faint swimming lights in the Northern horizon flashed like fish swimming below the surface of a lake. Aurora borealis- a faint show at best, but admired nonetheless. It reminded him of the previous winter though he tried not to dwell too hard on that memory.

He wasn’t quite himself when he staggered toward the borders. Unwittingly he had consumed several over-ripe crabapples in a last ditch effort to appease his hunger and regretted it already. His mind was addled and while his spirits were light and merry, he was not sure how he might be received by any passers-by.

the dance of the northern lights along the sky, faint but present, draws towhee jr's gaze; a pleasant distraction from the borders she diligently and vigilantly patrolled. ghost, her wingman, dips in and out along the river of lights overhead as if joining in their mystical dance.

until, the young peregrine falcon stops.

jr watches as his body language changes, the carefree soaring of his wings turns into harsh flaps. he dives down to her shoulders where he perches, a bit painfully as he grasps onto flesh and fur, and gives a small yank.

he hears something. or someone.

jr is alert; her joyful break over. she follows ghost as he takes off from his brief perch to fly recon overhead, drawing up and steeling her shoulders as the staggering shadow of a man nearing their borders. her lip curls back in a soundless snarl, a low, strange sounding growl rumbling in her throat.

a warning. the best she could muster. and though jr does not hear it, ghost offers his own warning: a shrill cry from above.

The panther too was watching the sky. His days were full of patrols and wandering. He left his scent at the borders alongside those of Kilgitsuk and Fallen Sun, so that strangers might count the men that guarded this place. And he rested, and he hunted, and he ate often and plenty.

He awaited Chakliux's call.

Instead, he heard the call of a bird. This was no strange thing, of course — but he recognized the species even if telling individual falon voices apart was beyond him. It might be nothing, but it might also be a girl with no voice of her own to cry out with. The worry was enough to draw him from his bed and toward the borders once more.

He swaggered lightly, a droll smile lighting his lips as he craned his neck back to watch the faint lightshow overhead. His lips moved, as if he was speaking to himself, mirroring the thoughts that raced through his mind. His ears cupped forward, as if searching for the faint hissing sound of the light singing on the air. 

His nose, however, quivered when it detected the scent of other wolves. He dropped his head, a motion that sent his world spiraling as he staggered sideways. He drew in a breath and steadied himself as he hovered his drifting muzzle above the ground. A quiet hiccough caused him to lurch, though he managed to keep his paws from stumbling forward. 

He lifted his bleary gaze when the sound of a growl came from the darkness, punctuated a moment later by the shrill cry of a hawk. He was more curious about the latter- having never known hawks to be terribly active at night. He searched the frosty wilderness until he saw a faint dash of white against the dark backdrop- and realized a moment later that it was a show of teeth from a protective pack member. 

He steadied himself as much as he could, while lowering his posture to show he meant no threat. His tail waved, as if in an apology, and he finally began to feel a wave of dread creep in. Those crabapples might have filled his belly, but he was definitely paying for it now. It was the first time he'd ever experienced what it was like to be intoxicated, and that effect had not been intended. 

"I'mmmm...Sorry," He blurted. "I diddddun cross, I'se promise!" He'd give scout's honour if he had to, but he felt so deeply ashamed to be caught in this state. He wobbled lightly. It was hard for him to keep track of where Jr's face was when his vision was swimming. "C'you just like....Stand still? Please?" He beseeched.

towhee jr's lip reading isn't good enough to determine what he is slurring. even if it was, there was a good chance she'd have not been able to make out but a few words anyway.

though jr is immediately appeased by the lowering posture, the truth is, she finds it hard to focus upon the movements of his lips slurring his words when his stance is wobbly.

her first instinct, assuming he is unwell, is to recoil back: not interested in catching whatever ails him. her stronger instinct tells her to push forward, to reinstate that she is in charge here, for the moment.

she scents at the air, hoping that it might tell her something about his jerky movements. there is a sour smell to the air and unsure of what it is, jr is weary; gaze hawk-sharp and countenance her natural prickliness towards strangers.

The only thing that remained still and stark in the darkness was her hawkish gaze. She said nothing and continued to study him. "I jusssst- I w-thought I'd just've...A snack," He said thickly, incapable of explaining himself properly. He felt a gurgling in his throat and assumed that it was going to be another hiccough- but when he tried to swallow it back down, he realized abruptly that it wasn't just gas. 

He turned his head away and belched up the contents of his belly- a chunky, dark red mess that smelled of sour apples. He licked his lips and winced shamefully, but was relieved to find that he felt quite a bit better to be rid of the intoxicating fruit. 

He groaned, drawing back and cowering in apology. "I'm sorry- bad choice," He said with a sorry shake of his head. He felt weariness sweeping in, and given the fact that he was already crouching, he allowed himself to slide to the ground, hoping that it might help stabilize him and show enough deference.

as he expels whatever he'd eaten, and though she can't hear it, she can smell it. it's a rancidness that lingers. jr does recoil back despite that she is no where near him. knowing that he's retching is enough to make her own stomach turn.

she scoffs into the shadows.

her scarred shoulder tenses for a moment as ghost perches upon it. she twitches her shoulder and sends him into the air again, signing with her paws for ghost to go search for @Ariadne. jr is stalwart but her inability to hear and express herself beyond her limited ways of communication she is unable to do much as she looks at the stranger's slumped form.

Ariadne was fast asleep when Ghost arrived at her ulaq, and she woke quickly once they started squawking. Although it took a moment to orient herself, when she saw the falcon, she realized that Towhee Jr needed her. Okay, okay, okay, she yawned, getting onto all fours as quickly as she could, You do not need to wake the entire village—I hear you! I will come with you!

They set off into the night, Ariadne following Ghost through the territory, and soon arrived at the scene. The stench of bile and fermented fruit caused her stomach to churn, and she looked at her packmate with concern as she stopped alongside her. Thank you, friend, she patted her packmate fondly on the shoulder before turning and stepping towards Leith with a worried expression.

I greet you, she said slowly, assessing the situation with tired eyes. You are not okay, she observed plainly. But that is okay. We can help. What do you need right now? Warmth? A place to stay? She'd never had fermented fruit before, so she wasn't aware of the effects the fruit had on the stranger’s body.

The panther came out of hiding, meandering slowly down the slopes. He wondered if the warrior child could take on this man — in his current state, it seemed likely. Perhaps earning battle scars would dissuade her from her chosen purpose, or perhaps she would grow in strength for having proved herself.

But the man did not act aggressively. Dutch waited for it, suspicious of his slurring speech, but the scent on the breeze was of poison and not of sickness.

Ariadne arrived before he met them. The panther further slowed his movements, listening in as he slipped silently into the background of the interaction — a visual reminder to the unknown male of his precarious position.

Her disgust rained upon his hunched shoulders like ice pellets, and burned within him like fresh embers. A brief flurry of movement caught his eye, and he looked up just in time to see the hawk descend toward the young wolf, claws reaching for her shoulder. "Oh no-" He blurted, unable to say much more in his state, but he fell silent to watch with wonder as the bird perched for a moment, before it was shaken off, and directed with a series of movements. 

It flew off.

"You-" 

It was a sobering moment. Or had he begun to hallucinate? Still- it piqued his very niche interest. 

"Peregrine falcon," He said, watching as it flew off. "IsssStill young, but- you c'n talk to it?" He asked, though he didn't expect a response. The wolf had said nothing so far, but given the fact she had communicated effectively with the bird, he assumed she might also be able to command it. Obediently, he remained where he was, looking up when he heard wingbeats again. The two other wolves were overlooked for a moment as he studied the bird, noting what he could about it, before dropping his gaze to the young guardian, who remained an enigma. 

Drearily, he tuned in to catch the calm reassurance that he wasn't alright, but that he would be. He nodded. "Bad choice, I just- I didnnn know," He admitted shamefully. Crab apples were sour, sure, but when they were fresher, they'd never caused him any harm. He was certain that he had been taught that they were safe- but his instructor had likely never thought that he might eat them once they were shriveled and old. 

There was a big difference between the cold silence he received from the guardian to the warmth and compassion shown by the sable-and-white female. The other male hung back, drawn in perhaps by the spectacle though he kept his distance. 

"Water," He said, his tongue feeling heavy, "Anduh, sssleep." He admitted. "I'll pay you back." He hiccoughed softly.

“Water, anduh, sssleep,” Leith requested.

We can do that, Ariadne replied, turning to her packmates. First, she turned to Dutch. Can you please go and get a turtle shell from my den, and then collect water in it? she asked. Then, she turned to Towhee Jr; it was time for her ptreo to be put to the test. -Can carry help?- she singed.

She returned her attention to the stranger and frowned, feeling bad that he felt like this. My friend Towhee is going to help you, and you are going to follow me to a den not far away. Do you understand? she asked.

When all was understood, she led the way. The den was no more than a minute from where they were; it was an abandoned bear den and was spacious enough for two wolves to fit inside. She stoood besides the entrance, and motioned for him to enter. Here. Sleep.

Dutch was embarrassed on this man's behalf, and embarrassed for himself to witness this drunkenness, and to know that two young woman were witnessing it with him. He wanted to send them both away and see to the man himself, but it was not his place among this people.

He dipped his head in assent and, casting one last, lingering look at the man, went off to do Ariadne's bidding. A word remained in his mind: Towhee. Was that silenthunter's true name? How had she learned it? What did it mean?

The mystery kept him from worrying too much over his packmates while he fetched the turtle shell, and then water to go inside it.

Not much remained by the time he made it back to their common place. Enough to wash the taste of sick away and wet a parched throat, but not enough to quench it. He would go and fetch more if needed, but for the moment, he thought the man might benefit from sitting in his misery for a little while. Perhaps he would learn something from it.

"Drink slowly," he advised when he had set his burden down before the man. He retreated a few steps to watch, leaning his gold-clad shoulder against a nearby tree. "What did you take?" he wanted to know.

The process of stumbling to a safe place was something he would not remember the next day, but the offer of hospitality was taken with gratitude. He followed the woman, still wondering how the hawk-eyed guardian had come to befriend a bird. Along the way, he thanked Ariadne with slurred but honest appreciation. For all of his fumbling and stumbling, he was at least a friendly drunk. 

The man reappeared, and Leith lapped up the water from the shell, and the cool liquid slipped like silk down his raw throat, and while it agitated his stomach for a moment, it calmed as the water warmed to his body temperature. He did as he was instructed, drinking with slow, careful laps. His eyelids began to droop as soon as he settled down onto the ground. "Thhank you," He said, for the umpteenth time. 

He lifted his chin for a moment to gaze toward the man with the thick pelt. "Crap-hic-babbles," His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, surprised at the word his drunken mouth had concocted. "Crab-applesss," He reiterated, speaking more slowly so he might pronounce it right.

Ariadne stepped back when Dutch re-appeared, giving the men space and not crowding them. She trusted her packmate to help, as he seemed to be a man of many talents, and she watched on silently as the cause of his sickness was: crab-applesss. She'd never heard of them and looked to the villager with confusion as her expression twisted in silent question.

It was around this time that Towhee Jr and Ghost left, and Ariadne glanced over her shoulder as the two vanished in the tree line; she'd thank them both tomorrow for their help.

When her attention was back to the two men, she was attentive and at the ready to help if needed.

Crabapples. Dutch had never much liked them even outside of their fermented state, but it was at least something that could be called food. Some of the flatness of his features eased. He stole a swift glance at Ariadne before deciding she had nothing urgent to communicate to him. The male didn't seem to warrant any extra wariness to either of them.

"Why crabapples?" he asked, his tone not quite absent of judgement, but at least coming close. "You've no hunting partners?"

He settled in further now that it was clear Towhee did not intend to stick around. The male didn't seem dangerous, but he was still wary of leaving Ariadne in his presence all alone.

He wanted the world to stop spinning. To shut his eyes and to sleep, perhaps without dreams so that he could rest up, and not feel too bad in the morning when he awakened. Another question came, and he lifted his chin to look up at the man, light pleading in his eyes. 

"No," He answered. "Thurr nutrishious, an' I like *hic* 'em, sour," He explained. "These'rrrr...Fermented. I shoulda *hic* known," He said, and shrugged. It was too late now. He thought it wouldn't be that bad- and that he could fill his belly and suffer only mild intoxication. His judgement had been wrong- and while he knew he wasn't in danger, he certainly felt as if he was paying for his lapse.

Ariadne felt for the man who had to rely on apples for food. She couldn't imagine being so alone that she'd have to rely on eating plants as sustenance.

It is alright, apple-eater, she assured the man, glancing at Dutch before continuing. You have nothing to worry about now. You will rest, and you will feel better in the morning. I will come and check in on you when you wake up. She nodded at her pack-mate, dismissing him should he want to go and get some rest.

Relief flooded him when Ariadne made to depart. He wrestled down a smirk at the man's expense when he was named apple-eater, and managed to appear dignified by the time cloudwoman looked to him.

"I will watch over him," he assured her, misreading the look. He was happy enough to do so, settling easily beneath the pine tree he'd propped himself up against. "He will wake sick and thirsty in the night," he predicted. Dutch would be there to nudge him toward the stream, or to fetch water again if necessary.

”Thank you,” He murmured as he settled down heavily on the ground, laying flat on his side with his head craned forward. The two spoke again, but Leith had passed into a deep, dizzying slumber- he would wake once or twice through the night to drink, before finally settling down to sleep the rest of the drunkenness off.