Ever since @Arric had unleashed on him about staying home, Akavir found himself doing so—for the most part.

Today, though, with the quiet and solitude that had descended upon the creek, the swarthy Mayfair found himself skirting the fiery forest, pale champagne eyes eyeing it with a certain appreciation. The valley was becoming crowded now—not that he minded neighbors, within reason…

But the fact one of their original allied pack members had attacked one of their own didn’t sit well with him—and he found himself idly considering the potential of relocation.

Distance from the drama.

Distance from the memories that haunted him.

His tongue pressed to the back of his teeth as a shadow caught his peripheral gaze—his body stiffening, an ear tilting to the direction of a snarl, stirring his own lip to curl up.

Muzzle ducking down to sweep past brush, the shadow hunter found his eyes locking upon another dark wolf—decidedly female. Not the wanted wolf with a bounty on their head… Pity.

Instead, he studied her—not willing to break the silence first between them.

Black-tipped ears would swivel to each noise on the breeze, were it the chattering of songbirds above or the idle scampering of rodents along the earth, she kept herself well attuned to the nature of her surroundings. One noise however, would captivate her more than the rest; the crunching of leaves suggested an intrusion beyond just rambunctious squirrels. A pursuer from her homelands, perhaps? She'd halt her pace to scower the area before her, head lowered and ears pinned back. She bore a defensive glare, flame-touched and perceptive.

A pause—her words drawing a small smirk to the man’s lips, though quickly masked as he creeps forward more—an attempt to appear non-threatening in his stature, though a rugged cheek brushes against the bark of a tree as he eyes the she-wolf.

“Define 'unnecessary',” he queries—curious to her definition of it. He held no desire for a fight—assumedly, she didn’t, either.

Still, he held little trust in strangers, and such a thing is apparent in the pointed gaze and the tentative relaxation of his muscles—still ready to coil and spring to action should be needed.

Peering around the trees, her eyes would fall onto the figure of another cloaked in the embrace of stygian hues—A man, his presence slightly daunting. She'd give little physical invocation of her uncertainty, careful to mask it beneath a stoic, unmoving expression. Nanou trailed his every moment with a hawkish gaze, suspicion gradually fading as he'd offer words rather than the pouty snarls and jeers she'd grown so used to.

Off to a better start than most of the strays she'd encountered since her departure from home—save for one.

She reclined back onto swarthy haunches to further convey her intention—not seeking hostility. It was a risk, to settle so casually, though she had faith she could weave her way around any issues. Her tail coiled neatly around her hips and she'd tilt her crown to speak to him, thinking on her words a moment. I suppose...If you have no reason to chase me off these lands, I'd count a fight as 'unnecessary.'

A pause, she'd flex her paws against the ground, raking an indent in the soil and raising her gaze, the spark of fizzling embers meeting with his own, sun-kissed hues. ..Do you? Have a reason to? She posed her query, waiting curiously for what words would befall the scarred jaws of the other.

The shift of a breeze stirred the fur along his cheekbones—the scent of mulberry grazing him. But it was the bright burn of her gaze he watched now—unyielding in presence, ungiving in her thoughts.

The careful mask of a lone wolf.

Still, she threw a hint of welcome with the shift of her hips, settling upon the cool ground. He did not follow suit—not yet. Instead, his dark form remained still, the casual lean against the tree offering insight as if he held a carefree swagger of a man who had no cares—

—a fucking lie, really.

Her words were carefully selected and a question placed before them—a blatant ask of his intention, and one that drew a derisive smirk from him—if only because of a colorful past. “I don’t make a habit of chasing wolves off lands if they don’t cause trouble,” he offered in turn, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Particularly unclaimed lands. But my pack is just a little south of here and you should know we don’t take well to those with ill intent.”

He paused, his grin turning a shade darker than intended—but hell, he had a lot of disappointment these days. “And we don’t just ‘chase’ those wolves away… Otherwise, you’ll find us quite amicable, I think,” he ended, allowing a lighter tone near the end. “I’m Akavir, of Swiftcurrent Creek.”

A pointed gaze was given, his next question a silent one: and you are?

     A short, smooth laugh followed at the confirmation of intention—this land was unclaimed, a suspicion she'd drawn at the lack of activity, and the faded scents of others come and gone. Unclaimed however, didn't mean that had stopped others before, those unwilling to share the spoils of vast swathes; and herself, unwilling to compromise with the overzealous. She'd had her fill of instability. 

Well- I suppose now I know where I'll direct my next raid. She offers a risky joke, a museful grin teasing the corners of her mouth, an attempt to shake the last of the tension from the air. ...Kidding, of course. Don't worry yourself. I have no ill intent... Not much intent at all, these days. She sighs, her words wrapped in the boredom and monotony of a lone wolf.

    The nightly backside of a dark mittin dusts gently along the soil, short nails raking muted indents across the earth. Nanou, of... wherever I happen to be at the time. She'd respond in kind to his introduction, crown slightly tilted at an angle, and offering a simple shrug to the casual air between the two—strangers no longer. 
    The detachment of titles felt strange as it rolled off her tongue, and sung of a heart still yearning for a home where one had never truly existed. She wouldn't allow herself to linger, and wrenched her mind away before it became muddied with futile—no, pitiful longing. A solitary trail had offered her plenty of time for that.

Unperturbed by his truthful response that the Creek wolves handled their trespassers with more force than a simple frolicking run, Akavir idly wondered if she considered him joking on the matter. It was purely a ‘fuck around and find out’ notion the pack held—though he didn’t get the feeling she would be one to test their boundaries.

Instead, she sounded bored—impassive. His eyes swept over the rogue before him—poised in her own manner of impeccable presentation—and then a shrug given toward him.

“Emberwood,” he supplemented for her, offering insight of the forest she currently found herself. “Nanou with no intent at all of Emberwood,” he corrected for her, feeling the flash of a small grin trace his lips before disappearing. His own stocky form slipped to a seat—a shoulder still propped upon the trunk of a tall tree. “So, what… You’re just a bored drifter? Exploring?”

That would earn a near cackle from her, and she'd take a sharp detour from the well-mannered attitude she often upheld when regailing him with her answer.

Aha! Bored is a fucking understatement.. She remark with a roll of her eyes, and pause only to let an amused chuff fall from from shadowed jaws. ..But, for the most part, I suppose that's about right... Avoiding, moreso than exploring, though I have done a fair bit of that as well. 

She'd swipe her tongue across her jaws, pearly ivories exposed to air for only a moment before they were cloaked once more. Nanou, the ever-digilent soldier and wall of stoney indifference, fell quiet for a moment and simply breathed in the serenity of the colourful forest around them, as if it would vanish were she not distinctly aware of every little thing that made a noise, every hue that dotted the canopy and forest floor.

She was here, and nowhere else.

After a short moment, she'd speak, once again addressing the nightly man who stood before her, slouched so casually against the tree trunk near to the little clearing. She wondered about him, but wouldn't ask so blatantly. It was unsurprising for a pack wolf to boast confidence, especially within an area so near to their own claim. A trace of vulnerability would linger in her next words, her ears flicking to offset such a thing. ...I'm... Unused to this er....status. Her paws flex against the soil. It's as freeing as it is purposeless. She'd let out an empty sigh. 

She still yearned for some manner of function, ideally the kind that fulfilled herself, rather than the blind orders of those too prestigious to do their own dirty work. She hadn't quite shaken the dutiful drive ingrained into her very being.

Groomed into her very being.

It created a profound restlessness, it challenged the state of her mind. Could a lonesome trail drive one mad? It certainly could to her.

A certain air of relaxation seemed to settle over her as she laughed—that rigidness beginning to ebb from her and drawing his own smirk of amusement, as if her cackle were infectious.

She spoke—his assumption of a ‘drifter’ being rather apt as it became apparent that she seemed to simply be floating through life, if only for a moment. Her words alluded to a story—but he was never one to truly pry into the private lives of others, unless he felt it necessary.

As such, his cheek brushed down the try idly, considering her words. “Can’t say I relate,” he replied honestly, considering the chaos that ensued the day to day life of the valley and the creek. “But it sounds to me like you just haven’t found what you’re looking for.”

He paused, then, his nose scrunching somewhat, his pale champagne eyes stemming over her. “You’ll have to forgive me—I’m not the one to impart words of wisdom or any such bullshit. But maybe you need to figure out why you don’t seem to be fully enjoying this 'freedom,' as you say?”

A drifter, a rogue, an apostate. Alone. These were the titles of which she held now. No longer mercenary, no longer warrior, no longer a daughter nor a sister. She drew her tongue across her ashen maw, lingering and drifting across the canines she'd sheathe only a moment later.

Hm. I suppose I haven't. She replies with a solemn air, sitting up straight.

Like drifitng through fog, she'd found herself with few goals beyond the promise of work. It was like catching glimpses of fireflies lighting up the smog, only to watch them flicker off and disappear a moment later. Idle exploits, empty words, and meaningless actions. Rinse and repeat.

Was this doom? Was this the punishment for the crime of merely wanting change? She wouldn't allow herself to be punished like this; and yet, until this moment when the thought had crossed her mind, it was she herself who had been the harbinger of her own misery, the one who kept her tied to such a mundane existance.

Enough of self-pity. Enough of this self-immolation, for who would see her when her fires finally fizzled to a mere spark? Who would mourn her, out here, far from home? 

None... That was the answer. She knew it, and it disturbed her in a way she didn't realize she would be so fragile to. 

She'd forgo answering his next query. She knew well why she didn't. She knew it was not a lonesome trail that she desired, though when it is the only option between that and a demise befitting of a traitor, it certainly seemed to be the more appealing outcome. Instead, she'd circle back to the words which had caught her attention earlier.

She hadn't found what she was looking for, if she was looking for anything at all. Trial and error, she supposed, would have to do. Perhaps something would click, and satiate some deep desire she didn't know she had.

You mentioned your pack was nearby? ...I do not usually... ah... Impose myself onto others like this, but I'd be interested in meeting whoever you call your leader, if your pack is open to outsiders, that is. She takes the stride and gazes back at him, anticipation lingering on the breaths that fall from her jaws.

She seemed lost in thought—contemplative, maybe. Perhaps, she was trying to come up with a way to politely disembark from his presence—it was a certain effect he had on many.

Instead, her question draws a rugged smirk to the man’s mouth. The Creek was in no position to turn away abled bodies—nor would he want to, if they were willing to contribute. “Ah,” he murmured. “We’re the pack of assholes,” he began—and then looked her dead in the eye. “And I’m its ring leader.”

The smirk stayed—but his gaze softened, a soft shrug given after the terrible introduction. “I’d like to say that’s a joke, but it’s kind of our reputation,” he offered. “Swiftcurrent Creek… We inhabit territory closer to the base of the mountain before you enter the valley from that side. Because of that, we tend to act as guardians of sorts to the valley… Or, that was going to be our purpose. If you’re willing to contribute and aren’t a complete asshole… You’d be welcome.”

Quite the stroke of luck that she'd managed to stumble across the very leader of this pack, and his amiable extension of an offer only furthered the ghost of a smile to begin tearing at the corners of her maw.

Pack of assholes? A part of her hoped she wasn't about to get more than she'd bargained for, and yet another part battled against that very thought, exicited, anticipatory at the element of the unknown.

..Aha.. It can't exactly be much worse than where I'm coming from. She chides, flicking an ear. I'm not entirely sure where I sit on the asshole meter, but I can certainly be of some use- I'm fairly well-rounded in my skillset. Contribution might do something to ah- squash my boredom. 

Nanou would rise from her seat, serpentine tail flicking the dirt and dust from her haunches; she'd drift ever closer, a confident air in the step of one carried by stilt-like limbs. ..If you'd have me, that is.

She'd look on through a studying gaze at the man draped in a blanket of obsidian, not dissimilar from her own; Akavir, of Swiftcurrent Creek, a name now committed to her memory, though she continued to know little of him beyond that, nor of his pack beyond his intruiging introduction; one that beheld a mere glimpse into what she was walking into. 

She hoped this wasn't a mistake, and yet, she walked into it with her head held high; for if it was, she'd simply add it to the list of those which came before.

His extended invitation was met with agreement, and Akavir straightened himself, eyes skimming over their newest recruit—“C’mon, then, 'Nanou of Swiftcurrent Creek,'” he offered, trading her prior title of ‘wherever I happen to be.’ “I’ll take you to your new home.”

With an arched brow, and assuming she trailed after him, the Swiftcurrent guardian turned, paws sweeping across the forest floor to lead them from the Emberwood and to the direction of home. “I’m sure someone will let you know where you rest on the meter,” he murmured—his smile widening. A joke—assuming they weren’t truly as bad as he was saying.

“We have another few guardians and warriors in our ranks. A healer.” Their only one—given his ex-mate had up and left them all. “A ranger. A couple of hunters…” He paused, casting her a sideways glance. “Probably a litter coming the next few months, courtesy of our Beta couple.”