Wolf RPG

Having crossed from one forest to another now, Sulukinak found herself surrounded by trees but not so claustrophobic. Here was a younger forest. The salt of the sea wind did not permeate as far as this, so traces of the familiar ocean aroma were thin; but she liked it all the same.

She snaked between the trees with her head down, nose inches from the floor. Many wolf-scents crossed her path and each time she found it, she would deviate in her path out of habit. It wasn't that she was shy, exactly; her mother had never let Sulukinak or her siblings near any of the visitors of her home island, and it felt right to keep away.

Finally she struck gold—so to speak—as her nearness startled a small white-furred thing from hiding. It shot off among the ferns and the movement made her attention snap along with it; pulling her in to a sprint as Sulukinak eagerly sought dinner for herself.

 

Fallen Sun was a man of his word — or lack thereof. He'd decided to go exploring to figure where moonpack held their borders. Territory was often fought over, at least from the blurry memories left over from his youth. 

He was a simple man dressed in red evening wear, a white sock on a hind-paw. 

What was this, he wondered, a head tilt as he questioned the sight before him. An intruder to moonpack's borders?! That was the opposite of what Silver Shadow wanted!

As she ran, she gained upon the creature that she pursued. It was something small, nimble, and pale; Sulukinak was not used to such prey, but she would not let it out of her sight. When there came another obstacle to the creature's path, it bolted along another trajectory entirely—and Sulukinak could not compensate. Her target pulled itself almost flat against the forest floor and vanished among moss-hewn logs. The huntress was at a loss.

She looked around eagerly for the creature, but after pirouetting on the spot one way, then another, she had to accept that she had failed and the animal—the likes of which she had never seen before—was gone. The girl huffed and puffed, trying to regulate her racing pulse as the instinct to run and to hunt ebbed.

That was when she spotted a flash of red among the bushes. It was too late for autumn to drape these woods; this oddity drew her eye, and she realized with a jolt that this was another wolf. A cry left her lips (think somewhere between a wilhelm scream and a gasp) upon recognition, and she stumbled backwards.

The fur of her nape stood on-end, while her tail was low and pressed against her hocks.

 

Fallen Sun' head tilted at that. He did not act aggressive, just interested. This was a very interesting wolf, was she not? 

His tail flapped as it hit the ground, a playful bark coming from his maw. Hhwo yhu? he questioned, his voice a mixture of spring rain and scratching in the dirt. After all — it was still development.

The stranger spoke! Except, it was not in a way she could understand. Was it another language? Sulukinak was more nervous now, but curious too; she had only ever known her mother.

Her nostrils flare as she breathes deeply, steadying her spirit, but also gathering knowledge from the air. This wolf made of fire and autumn smelled of many.

Taking a brave stance, she utters her name and motions to herself: Sulukinak.

This was many, many syllables, too many for Fallen's underdeveloped knowledge of the words of other wolves. His head tilted very curiously, almost exaggerated. A whine that was a clear hm? came from the fire-pelted wolf. 

He'd gotten a tiny bit better at a simple, three-word explanation: Whurds...nho... tot. Words no taught, or he wasn't taught words.

Words were very hard. 

Nevertheless, Fallen's feathery tail wagged happily. A new friend? Ooo what should he name her?!

He was struggling to speak, from the sounds of things. It dawned on her that this wolf might not have the capability of speech at all — but he wasn't deaf, he had heard her speak her name; perhaps, then, he only failed to recognize that it was a name.

This was an odd occurrence. Sulukinak wasn't accustomed to speaking at length and wasn't eager to do so now, given that the autumn wolf could not communicate that way. It would be easier to use body language; that had always been the way of her family, so it was not a problem.

As nervous as she was of this person, Sulukinak delved close — at least close enough to gather scents from the man and find out if he was ill, and where he had been, and if there were others around him; perhaps he was something dangerous like the hungry men that her mother spoke of. She would be careful, and retreat soundlessly after.

What she found was the scent of the man Dutch, which drew interest from Sulukinak. Her eyes brightened; she chuffed softly and said in her quiet way, Dutch? Is... brother? She had no word for friend or pack, only brother and sister and mother; so all men were brother, and all women were sister.

Fallen Sun did not understand the word, as he did not remember if he had any siblings, or what the word for such was. But pack was much better. His head tilted and his eyes looked curious. Who was this 'Dutch'? What even was a Dutch? Very curious.

The quiet one knew words he didn't? Wasn't that so interesting? It definitely was. Nahw. he whuffed in response to her question, tail wagging slightly. It was a word, was it not? 

mahoon-pahck. oh, look at him, doing a big ol' word all by himself. Such a good boy! But that was... not the word he wanted, no not at all. He tried again, but it yielded little better for his pronunciation efforts. 

His ears folded back, a small whine. Words were hard and he flinched when others held better words than him.

He smelled of the man Dutch, but did not know him? A perplexed spark overcame her gaze and then Sulukinak put aside that thought. It made little sense. Perhaps he wasn't so bright. Ice mother had told her about children dropped from too high on their head, or forgotten by the water, and a number of other accidents that might produce a stunted creature. She wondered now if this had happened to the autumn boy.

His whine made her worry, of course. He seemed distraught for his lack of communication skills and Sulukinak reacted to the sound as a sister might to a brother, as she was accustomed to that. When her brothers were hurting she would always be there—so here and now, she reached forward to nose at the autumn boy's shoulder and try to calm him.

She didn't know what to say, though.

Unknowing to either of them, Fallen Sun had simply been raised without being exposed to spoken words, thus his lack of being able to pronounce them. His tongue wasn't accustomed to communication and his vocabulary was very limited. 

But he talked a lot within his own head. He wasn't dumb, just burdened with catching up on a language he didn't understand and wanted to so badly. The black she-wolf had a name, no? He'd come to know the tonal utterings that meant an introduction, but her name was incredibly complicated for his brain that was barely beginning to understand how to say his own name, and he had to think of another name for her. At least, until his dumb tongue could pronounce the fresh, hot syllable soup she'd introduced herself as. 

Fallen Sun wondered this. She was timid, and did not give him a loud or commanding air like the wolves he knew - and neither did she smell of any packscent that his nose had gotten a whiff of. From her movement, he guessed she wanted to hide away in the background of a dark forest, a stranger in a strange land; one who, like him, did not speak much of the words that floated around them in an ocean of unfamiliarity. She was moonlight over a starless sea, lost and lonely and out of place. An everdark, where the fallen sun never rose. And it is in this train of thought, he gave her a name. 

A restless soul, one that touched his shoulder in comfort. Did Evening Rose finally trust he wouldn't hurt her?

When he did not retreat from her touch, Sulukinak felt at-ease enough to sit beside him and lean shoulder-to-shoulder, and watched as his ruddy pelt mingled with the dark sides of her body. This was familiar and comforting to her; she only hoped it did not bother him. She was not afraid of him. She was not truly afraid of anything after running from her home, with only the bloodied face of her mother as the specter that haunted her sleep; no, Sulukinak was only cautious because everything in this place was outside of her norm. It would take some adjusting to, some learning, but she was quick to absorb new things and make sense of them.

The red man's tail flopped on the ground behind him, a happy rrru-hhr! from his throat. Yay! She wasn't afraid of him! Or at least, the dark she-wolf did not give off fearscent. This was very nice, yes. He didn't want most any wolf to be afraid of him. Unless they were trying to hurt Cloud Ember and the rest of moonpack. 

But he never did give her his name, something he had practiced over and over in the shallows of pools until he at least made it sound decent. A lady should know the name of a man she'd decided wasn't a threat, didn't she? Blurry visions of his own mother would have her whacking him over the head with her paw if he didn't, if she could.

Fahallen Suhn.