Hoshor Plains a place and a people

After meeting with Rusalka, the panther caught a second scent and traveled cautiously into the flatlands. Gradually, his tail began to wag, and he picked up his pace until he was bounding by the time he reached the borders. There, he lifted his head to howl for @Nephele. He could smell her husband, @Arktos, and @Fjall, too. He was glad to find the young man here amongst friends — or, as Nephele seemed to prefer, something like friends.

He found himself thinking fondly of the young woman. Her enterprising mind was a treasure, and he was sorry, sometimes, not to have been able to captivate it. It would surely serve her pack and her people well in the future.

As promised the dark shadow kept the borders walked. Red eye glittered, while white milky one stared unseeing.

He didn't speak much it hurt a little too much. There had been too much damage, but he could speak and pain was only temporary usually. Perhaps he deserved it.

Hello?

Voice roughened from ill use and injury rasped. While fixed eye moved across the man in front of him. Handsome, Dreven bet easily pleased. In his hey day he could have made the man scream in all good ways. But well now, dreven had lost the taste for it.

That thought alone turned bitter in his mouth and he cursed Atka again for loving him and then leaving him. When you got too close to the sun you burned and he had.

the brutal beast had beaten the wrangler to the borders where dutch's call had risen — primarily for his wife. though he understands the logic of it: dutch knew nephele better, it rankles him just a little bit. perhaps that their marriage had come about out of attraction and loneliness and practicality rather than sentiment picks at whatever insecurities arktos pretends not to have.

dreven, a greeting and grin offered. this is dutch. he's a ...friend. friend was used loosely, if only because the two of them knew each other's names and faces and once, for a brief few days, dutch had been his leader.

nephele's on a diplomatic tour, makin' nice with our neighbors, an easy grin paints itself upon arktos' lips though it's clear the warbear has no taste for such things. what brings you to our parts o' the wilds?