The broad creature swayed as his limbs carried him toward the strong scent that marked the borders of the woodland. It was thick with ancient trees that were stocked closely together, creating an otherworldly nature about the forest realm. Ghostly eyes traveled the length of the border as the soturi breathed in the scent of other wolves.
 
Lærke was a man of the northern wind and the moonlit wolves of the tundra enok. He had known only the brutal cold of the winter realm, but had heard tales in his travels of wooded lands and stretching expanses of sand that would lead to tumbling frigid waters. The warrior had not come across such things until he had arrived on those lands, but it was a marvel for his eyes and he felt the stirring of spirits inside of his chest – they urged him to go forward. His stocky frame stood rigid on the outside of the pack, but the soturi did have a great many doubts. The cocoa-coated man had never before left the far north of his home. He had fought and won many battles for his people there, but his skills were best shared with the world… at least, that was what the shamans had told him.
 
Knowing that there was no true honor in ambiguity, Lærke drew his head back and called in an echoing bass for anyone to meet him on the edge of the wood. His silver gaze peered into the depths of the trees with a bright twinkle and his hefty frame stood in a neutral position as he waited.

It took very little time before Lærke was met on the borders of the wood. His silver gaze flitted across the features of the dark male who approached, and the soturi lowered his entire frame toward the ground in a submissive state. The wolves of the north were a brutal kind in battle, but his people had shown him to be cordial and kind to those he requested favors of. With his torso dropped to the earth, the large brute peered upward at the pack wolf with a humble expression about his dark features. The silver of his eyes was trained perfectly for the chest of the male before him, and his tail wafted only slightly. In spite of his obvious submissive form, Lærke’s face carried a genial nature about it. There was a spark of amity in the warrior’s ghostly vision.
 
“Rakeet! I have traveled a great ways, comrade,” he greeted in a booming voice that held a sing-song lilt to it. “I come offering my strength and the ways of the soturi.” After he had stated his business, the bear lifted his skull upward slightly, though his torso remained firmly pressed to the hard earth. He was ever hopeful that this beast would grant him passage into such a beautiful new home. Lærke was still grounded by the very sight of it.

A short ways away there was a paler form of some silver goddess who peered at him curiously from her cover in the wood. Her spectral shape was concealed heavily by the thick shadows that loomed over her, but the warrior flitted his vision in her direction once before darting his eyes away. It was not respectful to stare. 

Not much time had passed among the three wolves before a fourth appeared – this one was almost ethereal in appearance, with a canvas of white and curious evergreen eyes. Lærke could not prevent his vision from straying to her and lingering for a moment longer than it should; the great warrior knew better than to peer at the wolves of the forest pack. Once the darker male spoke again, the bear reverted his gaze back to the stranger and recognized the acceptance of his submission. Though he was careful about it, Lærke drew his head back upward so that he might better serve their inquiries. It had seemed as though his language had fallen on the ears of those who did not understand him, and for a heartbeat he felt sheepish in his skin. Cheeks burning slightly, he bowed his head toward the ground and chuckled underneath his breath. “I beg forgiveness, dark one,” he spoke to the male. “The way of the soturi is that of a warrior.”
 
His people were all powerful warriors on the tundra. The moonlit wolves had seen a number of great battles on the frozen landscape they had claimed as their home. It had not turned the bear into a vicious brute, though. His nature was genial and his eyes twinkled with a love and humor that many had lacked. His round figure – while thick with muscle and sinew – was not short of fat. The wolves who had gathered before him were stunning in their own respects and very different from each other, but they had a kinship that spoke faintly of his homeland. Lærke could not help but to imagine that his siblings would have enjoyed the company of the forest brood.
 
Focusing his mind on the task at hand, he heard mention of their leader who would offer a verdict on his membership with them. “Ah, your johtaja! That is, how you would say… your leader,” he boomed in the rumbling bass of his voice. “It would bring great honor to be met by another of your kind. You are all fair to come to me at once… I am humbled,” Lærke then added with another bow of his head. There was a crinkling smile on his handsome face that lured creases to the corners of his silver eyes.

Aria comes quietly, waiting behind with a curious gaze. The stranger seems different, but kind. He acts friendly and submissive towards Constantine. She watches as Osprey reveals herself, doing the same. She walks with a tall posture-- regardless of her small frame. "Greetings," she says warmly, her pale gaze flitting between the party of wolves that gathered. 

"I welcome you to our borders-- and forgive me if I'm making you repeat yourself, but what skills do you possess that would benefit for my pack as a whole?" She asks. She heard him say warrior-- and some other word she didn't understand. But she was curious-- what exactly was he capable of? Was this the type of wolf Constantine had wanted before? She took this into great consideration-- feeling as though she'd harmed him in some way in the previous days. 

She gave deirdre a quick glance and a kind smile before glancing back to the stranger. 

A fifth!
 
The pale woman stepped from the wood with her head held high and her vision trained on the wolves who had gathered around Lærke. This woman seemed to lack any color in her coat or her vision; she was draped in white and silver and nothing more. She was smaller than he, but overall an average creature to lay his eyes on. When she had come forward, the girl offered a pleasant greeting to all of them. Lærke nodded his head to her before she was introduced as their johtaja! The bear’s silver eyes lit up and he managed to lower his skull further to offer the due respect. He never would have imagined such a small creature could lead the wolves of the forest – not when they had the dark male among them, and the beauty with the green eyes. Still, his intentions had not been to offend the pale johtaja. His imagination was wild, and there were times that he anticipated far larger things than realistically possible.
 
“Terveisiä, good woman,” he greeted her with a jovial tune in the bass of his voice. “I am Lærke of the Tundra far to the north. I come offering my body. I am a… warrior in my home – a great one at that – and your wood is so kaunis that I would only hope to lend you my skills,” his heavily accented voice was nothing more than charismatic as it fluttered through the air toward her. Though the bear was large and fierce in build, the twinkle in his silver gaze was nothing to fear; it was warming to the soul.
 
The dark wolf had spoken and assured Lærke that they accepted many cultures into their home. This small token had lifted his spirits and his confidence. He was a bard and a beast with brilliant control over his overly large physique. The bear was more than this, though – he came with stories and songs of his home and his people. The moonlit wolves would have been pleased by him. He could feel their spirits smiling down on his broad back.

Her heart warms as the man speaks, he is respectful and appears passionate. About what, she's not positive, but soemthing about the way he speaks and how he holds himself just tells her that there is a fire burning in his soul for something. Perhaps it is his culture, which is clearly something different, or for his rank as a warrior. Regardless, she is rather fond of him, and dips her head in a polite manner. With a quick glance to Constantine-- who also appears to accept the man-- she lets a small smile play at the edge of her lips.

"Donnelaith would be grateful of the skills you have to offer," she tells him, tail waving once. "I too am from the north, I know your travels were lengthy. You are welcome within my borders." With a final glance at her packmates, she offers her name. "My name is Aria January-- Donnelaith's johtaja," she adds.

Lærke’s passions stemmed from something quite simplistic: life. He had found that merely living and breathing was cause to celebrate. Having visited the battle grounds of many great wars, the chocolate brute was surprisingly uplifting. He was grateful to have walked away with all of his limbs and with the breath to tell the stories of his conquers. While his nature surprised many, Lærke found that he made comrades easily and had a way of charming the locals. Though he was large and rotund, the playful glint in his pale gaze was welcoming enough. He was crafted like a bear with a belly-shaking laugh that could tame even the most vicious of hearts.
 
And he had been accepted into the forest.
 
A smile crinkled the edges of his eyes and he nodded his head in gratitude to the pale woman who had called herself Aria. The other wolves of the wood seemed to be pleased with her decision and they began to depart to tend to their own needs. The youngest one with the eyes of the greenest emeralds had stepped forward and offered to allow the bear a place to rest. He fixed his ghostly gaze on her for a moment more before he nodded his head. “Yes, beautiful child… your kindness is ihana,” he lowered the volume of his vocals just so that he could answer her.
 
Before they should depart, Lærke cast his broad muzzle toward the leader of the trees in a questioning manner; he was not certain that the small Aria would want him to depart without her formal dismissal. The January wolf did seem as though she was quite the formal beast, after all. The bear was not keen on offending her on his first day.

Formal indeed, but for many reasons-- fear being one. Fear of losing something she'd felt she worked so hard for, especially. She prayed she could live up to Lasher's wonderful reign, but there would be no telling just yet.

She smiles to him, stepping forward to exchange scents by pressing her muzzle to his shoulder. She steps back, her tail wagging a few times to show her friendliness before dipping her head. "You are welcome to go where you please... Thank you, Deirdre," she adds, nudging the girl on the cheek before glancing back to the male one more time. "Welcome, again, to Donnelaith. Feel free to seek me out whenever." 

Without another word of order the pale girl turns and pads back into the territory, excited to have added another member to their ranks.