Wolf RPG

dawn broke across the early morning sky, chasing away the dark navy hues of the night. arktos had gently extracted himself from @Nephele's side in an effort not to wake her. she claims they are close to morningsong but arktos had pushed for rest. he was more travel-weary than he'd initially thought, and it had felt good to rest thru the night.

he attributes this comfort to nephele's presence in the bed of pine needles beside him.

arktos, unbothered by the fact that they were newly wed strangers, as if his life had come a season of married at first sight, was a stranger to even himself.

he stretches, feeling more rested than he had since ... well ground zero. which was the first time he felt more rested in however long.

he follows the freshest scent of rabbit, wanting to surprise his wife with breakfast in bed. it felt, to arktos, like a thing a good husband would do.

masa surveys the land. he gets acquainted with the ground beneath his feet. its different and the same. traces of it remain but faintly. he isn't sure if he's going the right way. all he knows is that it is here.

but all of that is left behind when he spots another man sharing the same space as him. a local, perhaps. he too seems to be searching for something. though that something is absolutely different than masa's.

hello. he speaks politely to the man up ahead, but his face remains still as stone.

stealth wasn't particularly arktos' forte. he was too large, each step too heavy upon the earth for any sort of guerrilla warfare: in war time or ... in hunting. no doubt, the rabbits — if nearby — had heard his heavy footfalls and retreated to their warren.

but determination holds steadfast within the warbear as he follows the trail all the same, noting that it crisscrosses with the scents of other rabbits.

babies, perhaps.

movement catches his attention from the corner of his eye, and head snaps towards the ink draped man up ahead, moss green gaze assessing. tail sweeps across his hocks, salmon pink tongue drawling across his jowls. he is loathe to be distracted from his mission, admittedly, but tucks it aside in the interest of formalities.

hello, parrots arktos, left ear twitching. with any luck, nephele will remain asleep for some time yet, giving him time to make some small talk with this stranger and still surprise her with breakfast. can i help you? he asks politely, a soldier settling into the routine of falling into line. nature, would not allow him to ignore a greeting.

the man ahead stands at full height, and his eyes met with that of the stone. the stone now drags his weight a little closer, but not too close so as to intimidate. conversations with strangers was always a delicate game of balance.

the offer. masa ponders on it. would he need help with his mission? probably, but involving strangers is tricky, and the man before him seems noble, good-hearted. precisely the wrong person to ask such a task of. a moment of silence. no. he finishes, but then adds. i was just passing.

and you? i can be of some assistance, if needed. he remains distant despite the chit-chatter, his voice as dry as the dead grass yet to be enveloped with the fresh, blossoming spring grass.

a brief moment where the warbear considers telling the man then pass, thinking of his wife where he left her sleeping on a bed of pine and the swelling of protectiveness he feels towards her, despite their newness to one another. it feels bone marrow familiar, this urge. but arktos refrains. though he suspects he has the ability to be incredibly rude, he does not believe the man before him has warranted it.

i do not need assistance, arktos says, declining the offer. he would be enough to take down a rabbit. two, perhaps, if he was lucky. a second might just force them further into the warren where they would then be safe and inaccessible. the offer is appreciated.

and this was where arktos can feel the softness within him give way to a stony exterior.

my wife and i will soon be on our own way.

the birds ahead must've been on the edge of their seats, perched as they watch two men of stone speak. it felt as though a storm could pass through and neither would move. then, the raven-colored stone tipped his crown. a younger masa would've smiled at the thought, perhaps. he isn't sure anymore.

i won't be here long either. a married man, and clearly urgent. no pups however, otherwise this encounter would've taken a far different turn. it'd be rude if masa held him any longer — something he only learned by force. very well. a sharp inhale through the nose before he prepares to move again. my apologies for keeping you. may you and your wife have easy travels.

with that, masa continues. he never gave the other a name but neither would've needed it anyways — their paths only crossed here for now, the hunter had no clue if they would meet again.

to artkos, the awkwardness that lingers between them was nearly painful. he can see it, as if it were a palpable thing hanging like a sharp, jagged rock suspended betwixt them. it is, perhaps, why arktos makes no moves to stop the dark pelages man when he takes his leave.

not a name is uttered between either man, and arktos is arrogant enough to believe it unlikely their paths would cross again.

he does not dwell long, returning to his task and with a plump rabbit fattened for winter still between his jowls, he makes his way back to nephele.