Arric had left Ricerclan and headed straght for akvarsheim. Luckily it was barely a stones throwcaway. So he didn't have a particularly arduous journey. Another weasel lay at his paws.

The scent markers at Kvarsheim were weak. But still presentm he was unsure what to make of it.

He lifted muzzle to the sky and called out for the leaderrs or someone to answer his call and take hia message.

Swiftlet was becoming less and less content within the bounds of his pack's range. Bored, with the same scenery and same day-to-day. He had a taste of what existed beyond their home and wanted more. He was making his way out to wander when the strange call went up. Something — someone — different. That was all he needed.

Yeah? What do you want? He inquired as he marched up to Kvarsheim's visitor, taking note of the unique ring of white fur around the other wolf's eye and feeling a pinch of envy.

It was cool.

Skáld coughed, clearing a bit of phlegm from his lungs, and cleared his throat a few times as well as he made his way toward the borders, in preparation for the visitor. Pneumonia had sucked away his energy for a couple weeks, and while he was starting to feel better, he still found his chest a bit rattly and found himself easily winded. The healing process was slow and tedious.

He wasn’t far behind Swift, but was happy to see the youth take an interest in patrolling the borders- until he overheard the boy’s clipped tone and unwelcoming greeting. He hastened his step, so he might approach and appease the much taller visitor if it meant keeping Swift safe. 

He uttered a slightly rattly, apologetic laugh. ”What he means to say-“ He interjected as he arrived, and cleared his throat one more time. The man smelled of Swiftcurrent Creek. Skáld was not keen on giving a bad impression. ”Welcome to Kvarsheim. I am Skáld, and this Swift. I am- under weather at moment, my apologies,” He said. He noticed the weasel, but made no assumption. He blinked up at the tall visitor. ”What brings you?” He asked curiously.

The first visitor was a snotty kid with a big ole chip on his shoulder. Were he not here on a messenger basis. Honestly he probably would have been amused, maybe even laughed. And truthfully he still thought it funny. But he didn't react thusly. Instead he blinked quietly. He was about to answer when another nicer onw came along.

Honestly, he wondered if they didn't deserve it a little. Things had not gone well when Gunnar had come. Yes the man was old, but well. Yea it was better not to think of the past.

I brought you some lunch and a message. He eyed the youngster.

Two wolves came to our border. Looking for a wolf that harmed one of their wives. Offering a bounty, but also I would make extra patrols if I were you. We are increasing ours. We don't plan on going after the man, but we will dispatch him if he comes near ours.

When Skald approached, young Swiftlet spared him a sidelong glance but the boy's attention was still fixated on the unique marking that their visitor boasted. Had the strange wolf been plainer looking, it would have been the weasel that caught and held Swift's interest.

Two wolves, a bounty, patrols...

Boring.

Where'd you get that? Swift blurted out, loosely gesturing at Arric's eye with one of his paws.

He tried to ignore the ambivalence from the teenager; having grown up as the only child in the pack, having younger wolves around was a novelty. Skáld was no expert in either reading or knowing how to properly guide the younger folk- not when they reached this age. 

He tried to maintain a friendly smile though tiredness reached his eyes, and the smile faltered when the kind but massive messenger came with news of an attack. Skáld did not understand what a bounty was, nor did he completely understand what Arric implied when he said that his pack would ‘dispatch’ the attacker. He felt his confidence wan as he fought to figure out what they were being advised to do. 

”We will guard,” He said with a nod, though the crease in his brow would show his concern. They were light on wolves with the brawn and fighting skill to protect against a wolf who had established themselves as being aggressive. ”Thank for news; we do appreciate knowing, from neighbours,” He said. 

Swift posed a question-and it was nice to see him interested in something. He perked his curl-framed ears to hear more from Arric.

The youth stared at him overly long. He was unsure exactly what to do with it. Not that he minded. But did the young man want something? Did he need something? Was he just curious. All too soon, he blurted out his question.

Arric chuckled and lifted a paw towards it. Got it from my mom. She had one like it. Born with it.

Arric nodded. He shifted. Listen I know we aren't on the best of terms. But if you need help. Please don't hesitate to come find me. I can't promise Akavir would come or even take to it kindly, but I will help you.

Arric wouldn't let a pack flounder especially at the paws of a cruel beast, simply because of bad blood. And oh it was bad blood, but he was fairly certain the old man Gunnar was long gone now.

So he got it from his mother. Why didn't Tauris give him one? This was something to be thought more on later.

Disinterested entirely in the business, Swift ignored the ongoing conversation and took a few small steps toward the visitor, his mien nearly that of a cat creeping toward a mouse, with his gaze still fixed on the white ring around the other wolf's eye. But just as he drew just-near-enough and all-at-once, the young predator swept gracefully downward, seized the weasel that lay at those dark paws, and sprang away with a rascally cackle.

If he was a stalking cat before he was a scalded one now, tearing off as fast as he could and laughing with every rapid beat of his feet.

Skáld smiled faintly as Arric explained the marking that curved around his eye. He tilted his head and craned to hear each word as he began to speak about terms between the two packs- but frankly, Swift’s body language distracted him. 

If he rebuked the boy, he knew he would end up humiliated in one way or another. At the same time, there was a chance that Swift was looking at that ring like it was a target and if he didn’t say something, then the man promising to help them was going to get punched right in the eye!

”Swiftlet!” He barked in surprise as the boy moved suddenly- but to his relief, the youngster simply snapped up the weasel and dashed off with it. Any authority he might have had faded with every step the boy took as he withdrew. In resignation, Skáld uttered a heavy sigh. 

”Apologies for, ehm, Swift,” He said, wincing. ”Is not…Good manners, and…At ‘that’ age,” He enunciated with a shrug. The boy’s laughter followed him. ”I am not knowing what to do with him,” He admitted. Swift wasn’t his son, but he was still a ward of the pack. 

”But what of…You say, our packs,” He said, hoping a change of topic might distract Arric from the rude child’s actions. ”I am in agree, past is past. Now and future…Hard enough, with children like this; so we be good to one another, yah? Make terms better.”

The young pup was nearing closer and closer. A wolfish brow was raised at his perusal. He waited patiently wondering if it was his face or the weasel the youth was after.

And ah yes it was the weasel. Arric had to hide a grin and turn a cough into a laugh. He knew he shouldn't find it amusing, but fuck if it wasn't hilarious. He actually wanted to give the little ass wipe a high paw.

Arric have a shrug. Its alright. We have one of those at our pack. Though she doesn't laugh so much. Alright. So friendlier terms it is.

Skáld breathed a sigh of relief, and sheepishly gazed after the disappearing figure of the boy, his ears slightly airplaned out to the sides. An eyebrow raised and his pupils contracted at the thought of Swiftcurrent Creek having a child like Swift. 

He uttered a laugh that was both thin and weak as he shook his head. ”I not being like that, at that age,” He said. He was fairly certain he’d not been that way, anyway- Taurus might have a different story, but he couldn’t recall being that bold. He blinked back up at the tall man. ”New generation are different,” He said. 

And with reference to Arric’s terms-

”So can we be too. I will make it known to others here.” it would be easy enough, he supposed- he couldn’t even remember why their terms hadn’t been friendly to begin with.

Arric laughed then. The gentle bewilderment on Skalds face. 

I was different too.

Arric hadn't been at the borders the day it had all gone to hell. But it had something to do with the Patriarch of here. Who to his understanding wasn't here anymore.

A soft nod. works for me. Maybe we can come by sometime and have a hunt or something ir on neutral territory.

Skáld could see no reason to allow an old grudge to persist- not when the ambassador from Swiftcurrent seemed amenable enough, and tolerant of the boisterous Swiftlet. Times changed, he thought- and so could they. More wolves had come to the valley, and he felt it was in the best interest for all of them to be agreeable, especially when it came to their resources.

A pack hunt would be educational for the young ones, and Skáld nodded eagerly. ”Ya, this would be good!” He said, though he did feel some wariness regarding the obedience issues the pack seemed to be facing. Maybe an operational hunt might show them how much better things worked when they worked together.

”This would be good. You come, bring packmates, we introduce young ones and hunt together, ya?”

Arric perhaps wasn't the best ambassador. And truth be told he was a bit of a pushover when it came to pups. He often wondered if his children would be little hellions because of his tolerance.

Arric smiled at the enthusiastic reply and he was always willing to have a hunt. And if it could strengthen bonds that Wren had severed and Arric completely blamed Wren at this point. Because if she had been guilt free and only did what needed done. Would she have leftlike she did?

He nodded. Very well. Will do.