The dove had been laying by the edge of the crystal clear lake, idly watching the schools of tiny fish dash and weave in-between the plant-life at the tips of her paws, her pale body remaining partially hidden amongst the dense, flourishing reeds that kissed the waterline. The morning had brought over a certain calmness that the pair hadn't experienced in a while, and Goose cherished it, closing her lids briefly and lifting her nose to the air to take in a deep breath of the crisp, morning breeze. It smelled so wonderfully of Spring, and the wraith sighed in response, thoughts briefly wandering back to the journey that had already endured upon entering the Teekon Wilds. Although their entry into Easthollow had been a successful one — albeit extremely shaky — the pieces had just not fit into place. They'd kept their distance, with Goose noting how frequently Oath seemed to be on edge, and eventually the cons had outweighed the pros. The wraith, at first, had not been entirely sold on the preposition of leaving what appeared to be a sanctuary, but she would always trust Oath's judgement. Much more than she'd ever trust her gut feeling. And seeing now, how much more relaxed the russet fae seemed to be as she gleefully hunted her prey, allowed the pale to see that their exit had been more than worth it. They'd made it this far already - a little longer couldn't hurt.

Goose didn't need to see what was going on to know whereabouts Oath was in her hunting 'routine' — she could point out each grunt and thrash in her sleep; the dance was so familiar now. When the commotion settled down and the russet seemed to be retreating back to dry land, only then did the dove pull herself to her feet. Goose already had a smile on her face before she could even set eyes on her friend: a plump, limp duck, right at home in-between that cheeky, devious grin. Walking upwards towards her at a lazy pace, she watched as Oath got to work on her prize, unable to disrupt the hearty chuckle that bumbled up from her stomach at the sore spectacle of her. As wonderful as Oath was to look at on the regular, she was a sight to see when she was sopping wet. All long limbs atop an even nimbler form, she looked even more feline in nature than she usually did. "I'd think you were a mountain lion if you had been any further away," the dove teased as she stood by her plopped form, briefly leaning down to run her tongue up alongside her soaking wet cheek before moving to preen at the smaller girl's ear tufts. She couldn't help it; cleaning Oath was one of her peculiar past times.

As she moved to settle by the russet's side, the cool breeze that had been so welcoming before brought forward the scent of something, or rather someone, very unfamiliar. The muscles in the pale's legs tensed almost instinctively as she drew her attention quickly from Oath's coat to the horizon in-front her, eyes squinted in retaliation against the harshness of the reflected morning light. Brown orbs danced frantically around the edges of the lake to find the source, the dove audibly gasping when they fell upon what appeared to be another being. She couldn't tell what story the stranger's stance was telling with the way the brightness distorted her view, and despite her desperate attempt to focus her eyes, it was to no avail. They shouldn't have sat facing the sun. Goose lowered her head to utter softly, her voice cracking with bubbling anxiety, "Oath?"

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Oath's casual responses in these kind of situations never ceased to amaze the pale, and for a brief moment Goose felt silly for getting so internally worked up about a situation that hadn't even unfolded yet. When the russet greeted the stranger, unfazed, voice drawling with it's everyday tone, the dove relaxed a little and once again turned mahogany eyes back to look at the other further down the water's edge. When he spoke in return, Goose couldn't stop her sudden curiosity from revealing itself in her now shifted stance: she took an inquisitive step forward, head raised and ears pricked forward, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

What a peculiar accent. Eyes finally adjusted to the bright light, the dove visually drank in his form, relieved to see that it held a friendly disposition, despite his words already surrendering such information. She could never be too sure, words could often be deceiving in the mouths of strangers. Swiftcurrent Creek. They'd heard the name in passing, knew it was the neighbouring pack to Easthollow, but had yet to run into any of its members. If this male was their common representation, she came to the conclusion that they mustn't be all that bad.

Snapping back from her wandering reverie, Goose became aware that it was probably her turn to speak. Her cheeks flushed pink underneath her porcelain coat, suddenly flustered at her lack of social awareness. 'U-Uh, hi, she squeaked, the words coming out too suddenly, too unplanned, and she cleared her throat to try and counteract the rising embarrassment within her. "I'm Goose, and this, this is, um...-" the sentence tumbled out before she could stop herself, a nervous habit, in attempt to occupy the silence that most likely only she found awkward. She frequently landed herself in trouble when she blurted like this, and had failed to consider that Oath might not be willing to yet relinquish such personal information. Gasping gently, she snapped her head back to meet Oath's eyes, embarrassed, watching to see if the russet would offer her name too.

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Oath brushing touch as she rose to her paws quickly snapped Goose out of her curiosity-induced haze, which frequently bordered on the edge of dissociation when something caught her interest that she just couldn't ignore. Coming back to her senses, the dove restored herself to her usual posture of a dipped head and pulled back auds, also taking two steps backwards to compensate for the one she had taken forward, and so she was aligned with the russet's lowered shoulder. Mahogany eyes never left the smaller's face as the pale remained intent on gauging her reaction, which alit with surprise when a humorous wave swept over her features. Oath, of course, was find this whole jig entertaining.

When the russet posed the question to the autumn-touched wolf, Goose finally tore her eyes from Oath and back towards him, letting herself get a good look at his features whilst he spoke. Soft eyes, she noticed. The dove felt herself relaxing, and chose to lower herself onto her hindquarters, plush tail wrapped snuggly around her fidgeting front paws. A sign of comfort, but expression still weary. He stated his business, and Goose noted how... casual his words were. He was just revelling in the joys of a crisp Spring day, simply in the same manner that they were.

"Nice to meet you..." Her voice was soft, airy, bordering on an undertone as she trailed off on the last word, her tone coming across almost unsure in manner. It was a stark comparison compared to Oath's bold drawl, that could easily demand and capture the attention of anyone nearby, and the dove often envied her ability to project.

When he posed the question of their living situation, Goose turned her attention to Oath, letting her carry on the conversation.

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Goose listened intently, genuinely interested in what this new acquaintance had to say, forgetting about her meal almost entirely. It had been so long since they'd had a civil conversation with another wolf that was talking just for the sake of it, and not with any planned ulterior motives or attempting to explain themselves out of a bad situation. This sense of inner peace was one that the dove didn't realise she had been missing, despite the fact that she was usually such a nervous wreck of an introvert when it came upon the subject of being socially involved. Maybe this surprise encounter — that seemed to be going quite well — allowed her to let her guard down just a little bit. There was a possibility that such an action would turn out to be a mistake that she would pay for in the future, but she was mentally strained from being on high alert all the time. She just couldn't help herself when the male offered his sympathies towards their plight; she was a sucker for kindness, or more likely, approval. She muttered a soft thank you under her breath whilst he continued to muse about his pack and it's leaders.

Oath didn't seem to agree, and this caught the dove off guard whilst she had been busy in the midst of her own thoughts. Goose noticed right away when lithe muscles at her side became tensed and hair raised from its place ever-so-slightly. She turned her head, an instinctive reflex in response to one certain riled-up russet, eyes locked on hers as she gave her 'the look'. It was never one that aired any signs of being condescending or scolding, but simply just a non-verbal reassurance. I'm here for you. We're okay. You're okay.

The dove was still unsure on what Oath was thinking which rarely happened, and she rolled back over their conversation and what the brute had said that had upset the russet, all the while feeling irrationally guilty at not understanding what could have internally set her off. Was it the accent? The female could argue that black was white when it came to her insisting she understood what someone was saying, even when Goose knew she absolutely could not. Most of the time it was hilarious to watch, but at other times it caused some serious misunderstanding, and the wraith was afraid this was one of them. Despite the quiet conflict the smaller's brain seemed to be going through, the pale studied her cautiously as she settled lower into the ground and continued to talk, her tone eerily balanced and nonchalant. As Oath snarked about Easthollow and consequently snickered to herself, Goose would chime in afterwards with a further explanation as to try and not alienate Benedict from the conversation, where as the smaller female was obviously not too concerned. They would often balance out their conversations this way, which many strangers might find peculiar. "They called themselves the Patriarch and the Matriarch, they didn't go by usual titles that you and I might be used to. It just didn't seem to be a good match, that's all." The dove explained, head cocked pensively.

But Oath's next words where to be ones that Goose definitely didn't think she could flesh out or spin into a more positive light, and she found her ears flattening slightly as the russet's tone progressed to one that was near confrontational and accusatory. It was not often she disagreed with Oath's course of action, but this line of questioning against the baron — that the dove had already mentally concluded to be pleasant — caused nerves to twist and turn in the pit of her stomach whilst frightened mahogany eyes assessed what could potentially become an escalated situation. "Oath... she murmured to the russet, admittedly unsure of what simply saying her name could possibly do to defuse the ticking time bomb at her side, but regardless it felt necessary to address her. Perhaps it would be enough to signal the smaller to pull back her roll just a little, or it would go the opposite way if she figured Goose was trying to question her motives or censor her, even though that would never be her intention. Goose found Oath could be a little unpredictable when in this frame of mind, but it was nothing compared to how unpredictable this stranger may turn out to be if he switched to find the russet a threat.

Even if the dove felt horrible for doing it and it truly caused her pain, she would always sacrifice Oath's trust and respect in her if it meant guaranteeing her safety and physical well-being. Every time.

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