magnetism. it lures him to the glacier territory like a moth helplessly to a flame; though the youngest whitemane would vehemently argue that he — the moth in this scenario — was not helpless. that he considered himself a helpless moth was insulting to his own self as it was. yet. there was something about the glittering white peak of the glacier trapped inland that fascinated him. it was a curious phenomenon; a beautiful oddity and he set off to investigate without a second of hesitation. the territory was unclaimed, he found, and vilkas strode in — though not without the consideration of would he have stopped even if it was claimed? it was hard to say, especially when he had his magpie eye upon something.

he found the cavern entrance by complete accident and though untold dangers could have easily been lurking ( though he did not smell any bears or other potential cave dwellers ) he stepped into the swallowing dimness and darkness further in rather comfortably; lured in by what he suspected was the sound of cascading water deeper within the cavern.

vilkas's ears cup forth and stand, alert, as he detects a secondary sound over the cascading water despite as it grows louder the further into the cavern he ventures. footfalls. not heavy enough to be a bear — the cavern had not held the musk of any sort of ursid at the mouth and it was doubtful that one would suddenly decide to make it a haunt at the exact same time that vilkas had decided to make it his ( temporary ) haunt. no, these footfalls were much lighter but far from light enough to be a stray, lost ungulate either.

the rust and copper whitemane stops, presses against the cold and rough wall of the cavern slimy with condensation that dripped from the stalactites overhead and levels a look over his shoulder, seaweed colored gaze assessing the darkness as the wispy hairs at his nape bristle and his upper lip curls back over his teeth. it's a fruitless gesture — for while his fur color, brightest of his siblings, does not blend in with the shadows all that well he is still, more or less, swallowed by the cavern's darkness enough that the physical detail of it would no doubt be lost.

the cave is musty and its odor could almost be described as pungent: of moss and crude, wet stone but over those, as the stranger draws nearer, he detects the scent of another wolf. female. her scent laced with the scent of others. a pack wolf, certainly. she is the first to brave breaking the silence that exists between them and it becomes hard, abruptly, for vilkas to determine how close or far away she was from him as her voice echoes off the cave walls. "nobody." the nord replies, sneering in the darkness at his own joke. the story of odysseus and polyphemus was not of his own culture but vilkas could not pass up the opportunity while it was there.

he moves abruptly, pushing off the wall and ventures further in, heading towards the waterfall below and the light that illuminates the cavern ...where he would be his most lethal ...if lethal force was necessary. he had yet to deduce if she was a threat or not and his instinct was to draw her into open ground and out of the shadows. he turns towards the incline as he steps off of it, stepping into the light, moving around the waterfall's pool waiting to see if she followed or retreated.

vilkas' ears cup forth and swivel in an attempt to discern her exact location as the sound of her footfalls is carried and echoes along the cave's inner mouth and cavern walls. he knows she is coming from the same cave he did, at least, but he cannot switch off the instinctual reaction of his body as his gaze sweeps the darkness looking for a silhouette — anything. he finds her gaze — the burning orange of twin setting suns — in the darkness and a very vague, shadowy outline of her muzzle. the rest of her, however, remains blended well into the shadows as if she is one with the darkness of the cave.

she speaks, to vilkas's surprise, drawing his attention — which had turned to the illuminated pool he stands so very close to with vague interest — back to her fiery gaze. there is a soft, very slight tremor to her voice that did not escape the warrior's notice but he does not capitalize upon it. this encounter doesn't have to go sour; but he understands the weariness. "for now." the jorrvaskr native responds coyly. he has nothing to hide and though it might present itself as such: he's not trying to hide. "what about you? are you a nobody as well?" vilkas inquires, curious as to if she'd play his own jest against him ( which would only be fair, he allows ) or give him an actual name.

at her question, vilkas lifts his seaweed green gaze from her to analyze the cavern, the broken bedrock that filters in sunlight over the waterfall, back to the waterfall and pool that must lead back out or else the cavern would no doubt be underwater. "i haven't the faintest idea," vilkas admits, returning his gaze to her fiery orange one. "i'm not from around here." and as a result every territory was foreign and a new discovery for him.

vilkas watches her move from the shadows that conceal her and yet as she steps into the lit cavern he understands why the shadows favored her. she could easily have been born of them with an inky pelage such as her's. if his copper and rust pelage was a gift from the fires of the sun her's was a gift from the darkest abyss of night. his seaweed gaze sweeps over her in an appraising manner quickly, not too studious and does not linger despite that he thinks — rather simply — as if it is matter-of-fact she is pretty. her tone, when she does respond to his jest of a question, holds an edge of ruefulness. it leaves vilkas to wonder if he unintentionally struck a nerve.

she does not elaborate on her slightly sorrowful response and the nord does not pry. their conversation smoothly makes the transition to her affirming that she was from around here only to be added that she's never been to these caves before and the youngest whitemane sees no need to hash up what they put behind them despite his curiosity. at her inquiry as to where he was from he considers telling her 'not here' as he'd already stated but he's already been coy and evasive in their conversation and as he truly doesn't have anything to hide decides to offer her an honest answer. it's unlikely, he thinks, that she'll have ever heard about jorrvaskr. "a place far from here called jorrvaskr." and because vilkas was feeling generous added, "it's where i learned to fight and over time i was entrusted to oversee the cubs training." he doubted the information would be overly valuable to her: this wasn't an interview, after all; which was why he offered it in the first place ( and because he did feel partially guilty about potentially striking a nerve with the whole 'nobody'/'somebody' instead of names thing ).

it does not come as a surprise to vilkas when his companion concludes that she never heard of it. he hadn't expected her to but she'd asked and he saw no reason not to be truthful. the nord was far from his natal pack and far from the companions; besides neither was in any sort of particular danger. jorrvaskr and the companions were both more than capable of protecting their own even if she was trouble but he doubts that even as the thought briefly crosses his mind. if anyone in the cavern was trouble it was the firebrand himself. she repeats what little he's told her about himself: that he was a warrior and that he taught pups to fight. "that's right." he confirms in a low murmur, unable to help the slight lift of his head as he feels her eyes observe him. he doesn't preen beneath her gaze but he does not mind being appraised nor subtly communicating such with his body language as he does now. in truth, vilkas liked kids. he liked their innocence and their unbidden curiosity about the world and all the endless and outrageous questions they come up with while they discover the world around them; but that doesn't make the youngest whitemane soft. he's got a reputation of being a hard-ass and when it comes to training he doesn't play games. he's effective.

"nah," vilkas replies carelessly with an airy shrug of his shoulders in response to her question accented with a soft giggle as it was from her. his name was definitely not 'nobody'. she offers her own name first and then her pack; a place called bracken sanctuary. it is, as expected, unfamiliar to him. "lily from bracken sanctuary," vilkas repeats offering her a small curl of his lips upwards into a grin. "i'm vilkas." the nord finally gives her his name.

'that's wonderful' his inky companion responds with and vilkas can only presume that she means that he teaches pups to fight ...or taught, rather. as a lone wolf there are no pups to train and the talent is utterly useless to him currently. someday, perhaps, he would be able to return to it but for now he has become focused upon ensuring his own survival, judging when to let his combatant and raptorial nature control him and when to bite his tongue and know that he sits on disadvantage. fights were not overly practical for lone wolves and hunting takes over as the most important ability in his arsenal.

the firebrand's ears perk and swivel to the side before one flickers forth at her next set of questions. was he traveling, passing through or looking for someone? "i've got an older brother lurking around somewhere out there," there being the vast teekon wilds, communicated with a general gesture towards the outside of the cavern. "but i figure our paths will cross sooner or later." in other words, the youngest whitemane was not actively searching for kodlak. their paths had separated along the way and vilkas does not worry about his eldest sibling's well-being; he knows kodlak is more than capable of taking care of himself. "i don't know what i am yet." he admits. he's a traveler and he could simply pass through but he could also decide to join up with a pack somewhere or stake a claim of his own somewhere. there were a lot of options and vilkas was in no hurry to choose.

her offer surprises vilkas. they just met, after all, but it occurs to him that it could just be a recruitment pitch even though it didn't actually sound like a pitch and vilkas' confidence about it wavered as she finished her directions with 'we take anybody who needs shelter, even if for a little while'. temporary pack status? that was ...brave, the firebrand considered. although as he thought it 'brave' didn't quite seem like the word he was looking for. in his general experience, though it did not expand beyond jorrvaskr and companions, most packs looked for members who intents were relatively permanent. offering brief shelter — what if they were a fugitive on the run and whose squatting in the pack put the whole pack at risk? — for a week or a month struck the firebrand as illogical. yet, of course, he did not state it out loud. it wasn't his place and she had ( kind of ) offered him a potential place though whether she had the power to do so or not vilkas didn't know and didn't ask.

"maybe i will," vilkas responds noncommittally. he doesn't want to make an empty promise to her and isn't quite sure how to communicate his gratitude nevertheless. gratitude isn't something he's accustomed to showing or verbalizing. "thanks." the word comes out abrupt and gruffer than he intended it to; tell-tale of a man who is not used to speaking it ( much like apologizes ). the gratitude feels lacking to vilkas as it hangs in the air between them and he averts his eyes from her pretty, gracious smile. his shoulders roll as he shifts his weight, his ears pivoting atop his skull before they slick back to rest at half mast atop his skull.

this was certainly an interesting twist of events, vilkas thinks as he offers her a sheepish lift of his lips; a twist that he would keep in the back of his mind and take time to consider.

her tone is warm as she continues to speak about her sanctuary to him, affirming that they are nice ( which is a strange concept to the flame-kissed whitemane ) and mentioning that they took her in when she didn't have anyone else. kindness, when applied to her sanctuary whereas other packs would likely do it simply to bolster their numbers. more capable wolves meant more meat in the caches, more presence, an extra set of teeth at their borders. it was a tactical maneuver so long as the wolf was contributing to the pack. at least, this was his experience. family, in his mind was children born of the womb and seed and of blood and bond of mateship. it's obvious to vilkas that his views are starkly black and white and absent the grey that lingers in the space between where the two meld and blend together. he doesn't see the grey, omits it from his perceptions of the world, allowing him to do what he does as effectively as he does it.

the lovely creature of shadows mentions that she should get back and admits to him that she does not like to be out of the sanctuary's borders after dark. the self imposed curfew is almost amusing to the firebrand but perhaps she has legitimate reason to fear the dark and what lingers in it. "see ya." he calls after her because whether he chooses to go to her sanctuary or not he knows he'll see her again. in fact, he intends to make it a point to. there is something about her that he can't pinpoint: that lures him a bit like a moth to a flame. perhaps because she is so very different from him and thus she is an intrigue.

vilkas lingers even after she is gone, deciding to bed down in the cavern for the night since he is already there and it seems a relatively safe place to catch some shut-eye without too much worry about what's lurking at his back. he settles in the far corner, pressing his back against the rough stone wall and stretches out like a regal sphinx where eventually after a few moments of resting his eyes, his head lowers to his front paws and he drifts off to sleep.