Swiftcurrent Creek i won't tell you how i survived the wreckage.
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Joining 
random but the dice have spoken. throwing her in the thick of things. XD



Momotzli simply wandered. 

Was it freedom or loneliness? The halfling could not have said. 

She woke in the morning. She broke her fast. She scrounged travelling herbs and concocted balms for the frayed skin of her feet. She hunted. Sought water. Bathed. Rested. Picked a direction in which to set her feet. Slept. And she woke again. 

But when the lessons came back to her, in her mother's clipped lilt or else accompanied by the booming laugh of Matias (even grown now, she always imagined him as a huge and looming presence), it felt like the latter.

She did not stop. Not until the scent of the others came to her and she realized this must be claimed territory she was drawing near to. 

For a long time, the golden wisp merely stood in silence -- deliberating from her position within the safety of no man's land. Her mismatched gaze assessed the forest as if the glen might whisper its secrets to her. Electricity crackled through her bloodstream and into her heart, setting it to pounding like the sight hound's own gait against the earth. Lightning in her blood, she realized, drawing in a sharp breath.

What else did she have except for possibility? 

The acolyte howled. 
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Eventually, and at a pace slightly slower than how she typically travelled, Moss made her way back to Swiftcurrent Creek from Kvarsheim. She left quietly, still wary of contributing to any sort of trial they might hold for the man who harboured the witch, in spite of her death sentence. She’d shake those responsibilities from her shoulders as she would shake raindrops from her pelt, and move on.

After all, she was cursed; whatever remained of her life would be spent quietly, just waiting for the next hammer to fall. 

As she approached the borders, she caught the scent of a stranger and sighed softly. She’d return to her life as it had been before, a quiet, stern guardian who tried to ignore both heartache and the aching of a heart attack. She felt spent, but at least having a job gave her some purpose. 

A howl sounded, and Moss didn’t summon the energy to respond, and merely approached nonetheless, even though she was only just returning to the Creek herself. 

The woman reminded her of another, and this similarity- the golden, wheat-hue of her fur caused Moss to frown. She could only hope there was no relation between the newcomer, and the golden woman who had just left them. 

”You are?” She asked, albeit somewhat tiredly.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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A howl at the borders summoned him, but it was Moss who held his rapt attention at first. His eyes studied her as he came to her side, testing the air quietly, scenting for unseen injuries or sickness—he could see by looking at her the weariness that clung to her, but only from his familiarity with her.

The woman was still a statue in nature—injured and tired or not. “Rest,” he suggested to her, his eyes speaking volumes should she know to look for it—he would catch up with her momentarily. They had much to discuss.

And then, his eyes sought the visitor, studying her with the mask of a stoic—unwilling to offer much to a stranger when the past few weeks the creek had been emotionally split bare by those they had once trusted. “What do you seek?”
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A woman came first, grey and weary. Momo's chin dipped, mismatched gaze lowering instinctively. Her wine-splotched lips twitched faintly in an attempt of a smile but it soon faded as the dark male joined the first. Her wispy auds drifted back, her gaze focused securely upon her paws -- as if she could remove herself from their intimate exchange.

Her eyes flitted to the man briefly, unperturbed by their abrupt mannerisms. "I'm Momotzli."

"Jus' a home. Nothing out there for me anymore," Ix Chel murmured softly, reluctant to explain exactly how she'd come to be alone. Or that she had no idea how to answer that question. 

She just didn't want to be alone anymore.

"My mother taught me to heal, how to be herb-keeper. An' I can hunt. I vould not be useless but if'n you have no room, I'll leave youse be then." Silver and gold flashed between the pair, her flaxen crown dipping again in acquiescence. 

It was not completely lost on her that the air between them was heavy.

She was half ready to apologize for the intrusion and melt back into the wilderness. 
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Moss stiffened slightly when she heard the sound of another approaching, though she was relieved to see that it was Akavir. Her gaze did not linger on him long, so that the newcomer might not try to race to any assumptions about what was going on. If she was here to join the pack- which seemed to be the case- she might get spooked by the recent turn of events. 

She barely acknowledged Akavir's suggestion, as though to imply that there was no reason for her to need to rest. She didn't want Momotzli to be suspicious, and gave her little sign of there being any reason to be concerned at all. The woman's gaze had fallen the moment Akavir arrived; Moss assumed she recognized his scent from the borders, or perhaps she was a bit more bashful around men. 

She blinked, noticing the woman's accent, which was a light surprise. It was pleasant, something Moss found an enviable trait. She uttered a light chuff, and turned her even gaze to Akavir, who would be the judge.
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There was much that could be questioned—his trust in others had begun to wane over the years and had all but been obliterated in the few weeks prior. Why was there nothing out there for her? What was it about the creek that drew her? Were they simply her first stop of many?

Yet, the word healer and herb keeper seemed to be the true determining factor of this. It was something they needed—and as his eyes raked over her, he wondered if there would be a cost to this one, as there had been with the last.


“Akavir,” he introduced briefly, a tilt of his head to the stubborn woman beside him. “Moss.”

He paused, eyes continuing to bore in to her. A pretty thing with an intriguing accent—youthful. “I don’t expect you to express you’re undying loyalty to a pack of strangers you know nothing of,” he finally offered, shifting his weight. “But it would be nice to know your ambitions or plans for your future. Our trust has been given easily here before—but it’s been tested recently. Hence my curiosity.”

A sideways glance was given to his Gamma. “We are closely allied with the two neighboring packs within this valley. We act as one of the forefront guardians here, given our proximity to the taiga and the mountains. A healer is something that would be quite useful to us.”