The early morning sun rises along the peak of Mount Everfall casting the mummer queen in a golden halo of light as she navigates the treacherous and steep paths with ease. It has been a many months since she has stepped upon elevated terrain but her muscles remember the way to move allowing her to keep her balance. Her destiny may have caused her to stray so far away from Sleeping Dragon and the wolves of her flesh and blood but the fires of the (thought to be) dormant volcano she was birthed upon had aided in forging her. She was a proclaimed dragon, once. That was when she had been naive, a child of innocence and luminance.

Thyri has parted from her titan companion for the morning, as when she usually does, Thryi does not intend to be parted for too long. By the end of the day she hopes to be reunited back in the bowels of the Shadewood. She scents a pack to the east of the Everfall and it draws her curiosity, driving the question: how many wolves have claimed a territory of the Hinterlands? More importantly, could she infiltrate them? The latter she would not do without speaking it over with Grievous first as her decision affected him as well so long as they remained a duo.

She draws in a deep breath, following the trickling streams off the mount that flow down to the Verdant Basin though she lingers at the base of the Mount once she has descended onto solid earth beneath her paws once more. The forested area of Mount Everfall bleeds into the borders of the pack that she has scented earlier on the breeze. She is careful to avoid crossing into the borders, leaving plenty of distance between their urine markings and her body. The champagne and cremé sylph has no intention of drawing attention to herself and believe that because she is clearly on Mount Everfall land — neutral territory as it is — that she is within her rights and continues on her …exploration though what she seeks she does not know; though she takes advantage of her current position to draw in the scent of the pack that claims the land just beyond and discerns what their borders willingly tell her.

Two packs - from one edge to the other, Vengeance traced their borders, picking appart their scents of the more prominent individuals and their possible numbers. From the markings offered to line their lands, it was safe for him to assume that one pack out numbered their neighbour - by enough members to be made obvious. Whether the one pack's number advantage made a difference if the smaller pack was filled with warriors, wasn't something he could find out just yet, but with a guess on their approximate numbers was enough for the time being.

Winding through the trails of these mountainous lands, the earth toned goliath smoothly made his way to follow a path of deer. With spring getting older, the young fawn of this season would soon be just ripe for the picking. Large enough to fill his belly for days, but still just weak enough to pose little to no threat for the muscular titan. Despite him being confident in his ability to over power many, there was a stupidity in thinking one would be left unscathed when easier prey were abundant.

It just so happened that the trail ran along the edge of a pack's claimed lands, still he kept just enough distance to feign ignorance of their presence. A heavy head held parallel to the ground to keep his eyes on the terrain and nose just high enough to keep the scent trail of prey apparent. It was the sight of another that caused him to turn his head away from the trail, raising it to see the woman better. She was small, but not weak by appearance. From what he could tell, she was not a part of this pack.. unless she was new and their marking was not strong uppon her flesh. But still he stood. Waiting for a reaction. A plush tail flicking behind him, the only sign of movement on the now still titan.

It would seem, Thyri thought with a hint of irony that, she had a tendency to draw titans — though it is not uncommon for her to be the smallest one in the area. She is female, for starters, and neither of her parents were colossal. Gavriel was of an average medium while Gyda was lithe, petite. Thyri takes after the latter but she knows that stature is just that: stature and that it could easily be changed by presentation. The mummer queen’s steps halt as she takes in the masked man, a dark earthen hue with a black mask that accents his ruby gaze. The sylph does not ensconce her light caramel gaze as inspects him from afar, noting his unkept appearance with a rise of disdain; his fur is clumped invisible mats and filthy. As a creature who takes her appearance to be important — if not because it will be a weapon of her trade — she cannot imagine what sort of despondent state she would ever have to be in to allow herself to end up so neglected.

He stares at her, unmoving, except for his tail which flicks behind him, Thyri watches. She does not close the distance between them but she lifts her muzzle slightly to draw in his scent with a flare of her black, leathery nostrils. He smells lone. She wonders what Grievous might think of him but does not linger upon that contemplation for long. Perhaps it would not matter but perhaps it would. Only time and the tide of this meeting would tell, she thinks. “Why do you stare so adamantly, Aðkomumaður?” The mummer is not uncomfortable as she asks her inquiry aloud, instead there is a coquettish cant of her head and simper tugging at the edges of her lips that is beguiling.

He continued to smell the air, the boundaries were clear and she continued show no markings of a pack upon her perfume. The demeanour of her question and she reacted to someone being so close to the borders, continued to indicate that she held no ties with these lands other than a simple wanderer like himself.

Your beauty is not the reason, if that is the answer you seek. A back handed compliment, words slithering from his mouth like warm bubbling tar, smooth and velvety with a certain deadly charm. Lazily he shifted his weight from one side to the other, muscles rippling with the movement underneath the thick grungy chocolate coat.

I was merely assessing if you were going to defend pack lands. The baritones of his vocals continued their assault of the airwaves, his pool of liquid rubies moved from the female and onto where the borders of the lands were marked for a moment, before resting on her once again. If you are not here to protect their lands, then what are you doing here? He asked out of meer curiosity.

“I wasn’t,” The words slip from betwixt her lips sharp and satirical, a slight curl of her upper lip to flash gleaming, pearly white canines as she twists the words and her expression to press and emphasize the illusion of insult. Whether he thought she was beautiful or not mattered little to the mummer queen though she cannot help but think that she would be better off for it if he didn’t find her attractive. She suspects he would not be so easy to intimidate as she had Ashton and she had no interest in putting herself in jeopardy by sparring without the support of a pack should she sustain wounds. She does not travel alone as she first had upon returning to the Teekons but she doubts Grievous is skillful at healing (and perhaps he is and it would surprise her) as he does not strike her as the healer type.

The stranger offers a further explanation and Thyri does not respond: at least to the first statement. Clearly, she has no intentions of defending the borders and the sylph does not find it necessary to reiterate upon what he has, surely, already discovered for himself. Her ears cup forth at his question, her lips terse as she contemplates her response, playing Grievous’ words about tact (and her lack thereof) back in her mind. If she is to be a true mummer queen then she will have to implore tact …even when she does not wish to. She has to play the roles. The truth was she wants to retort that it is none of his concern but refrains. “I am merely exploring.” She offers with a dainty rise and fall of her shoulders. It isn’t a complete lie. She is, in essence, exploring; but the mental map she makes of the packs that lie in the Hinterlands is far from naïf.

A short laugh huffed from the beast's nose at her response, mildly amused by her response and the subject was dropped. By her responses and body language, the woman was either clever in her interactions, or cautious - both were positive in their own rights. But also boring. For someone like himself, these meetings were dull and uneventful. These lands were new and not knowing who to talk to about what made conversations fruitless, especially from a loner who may or may not know any more than Vengeance does at this very moment.

I see. Was all he said before turning his attention back to the trail he was on before the mild distraction. He had no business with the pack, nor this woman. Once again his posture was parallel to the ground before he continued on his journey, the only change from his posture was his ears were drawn back in attention, keeping tabs on the woman for the time being just in case she chose to be silly and try to come up with a strike from behind.

Thyri is unperturbed by his decision to end their meeting and depart and the mummer queen watches him go with a quiet blaze to the light caramel irises of her gaze. She does not call him back and keeps her gaze steady upon the place where he has melded into the shadows to ensure that he has truly departed from the base of the mount; or at the very least her general vicinity. Their small interaction did not leave her much to work with on the front of her status of mummer. She had tried exploring it and is left with the uncertainty whether she was successful or not. A terse frown tugs the edges of her lips down before the champagne and cremé sylph let out a low noise before she turns abruptly and makes her way back to the Shadewood figuring that regardless she will have to definitely work on her skills some more before she tried to actually infiltrate lest that become a disaster she cannot charm her way out of.