Blacktail Deer Plateau aitareya

his feet had grown restless of late. they outpaced his body, tired and worn. but the spirit followed the feet, and the two carried the body away from the glacier, almost mindlessly, as if he followed the ruts of an ancient, primal path.

they stopped at this border, at the most gentle slope of the plateau.

he'd fought with himself about coming here again. the memories could be too great. and yet, he was over-curious about the wolves that now called this place home.

did they carry on the legacy of love and light that the morningside pack had sprouted here?

what did they think? what did they feel?

questions continued to bubble up as he howled for leadership, comforting that slight sense of trepidation with the knowledge that he could cloak this greeting under the guise of a friendship mission from morningsong.

ॐ वाङ् मे मनसि प्रतिष्ठिता
मनो मे वाचि प्रतिष्ठित-मावीरावीर्म एधि।
वेदस्य म आणिस्थः श्रुतं मे मा प्रहासीरनेनाधीतेनाहोरात्रान्
संदधाम्यृतम् वदिष्यामि सत्यं वदिष्यामि तन्मामवतु
तद्वक्तारमवत्ववतु मामवतु वक्तारमवतु वक्तारम्।

tag for reference. <3

with they birth of the newest cairns, rusalka was loathe to leave his wife and newborns' sides ... but admittedly, there was nothing that rusalka could really do to help with them at the moment. blind and deaf and reliant solely upon @Solveig's milk to keep them alive, rusalka's a bit helpless beyond offering body heat, bringing solveig food and offering to keep them close to his chest for a few minutes so she could stretch her legs.

duty, that day, called him to the borders in the form of an unfamiliar howl that crested along the plateau's treeline.

rusalka is quick to make his way to it, tension filling each step until his shoulders are as tense as stone when he finally approaches. the scent is that of morningsong, and though it offers him some comfort, rusalka, despite it being his second rodeo, is still a father to four newborns and that stokes the fires of his protectiveness in a way that is both familiar and different than the ones he'd exhibited during her heat and pregnancy.

still, he has to remind himself he is a leader, now. and a king, father or not, has diplomatic obligations to fulfill.

hail stranger, greets the cairn, steps slowing upon his approach. i am rusalka cairn and this is ravensthorpe. what can i help you with?

a magnificent man approaches, broad and tall, muzzle marked with ruddy brown. aditya finds no trouble in giving the warrior deference, lowering his head and tail and taking the introduction in to heart.

rusalka cairn. raventhorpe.

greetings, aditya replied, voice steady but gentle. i am aditya—i come from morningsong, where my son, dutch, leads.

he dipped his muzzle toward the territory's interior, smiling slightly. i once lived here, alongside dutch's mother and her family, adi went on. many, many seasons ago. when i learned there was a pack here, i wanted to come to see who had settled in my old home.

not overly familiar with morningsong's diplomacy outside of their fellow moon-packs, he asked, do you know of morningsong? we're on the glacier just southwest of here.

the man introduces himself as aditya, from morningsong.

a strange feeling curls in rusalka's stomach when aditya informs him he is dutch's father. though unintended as anything other than it was, it reminds rusalka of the poor relationship he held with his own father, kraken; a soft swell of envy for what could've been ( proud, knowing his grandchildren, helping ravensthorpe grow ) but what wasn't and never would be.

i know of them. dutch dropped by to introduce himself ... a few months ago. rusalka isn't sure he has the time frame correct but he's been preoccupied with tending to ravensthorpe, his wife and their newborns.

is there something i can do for morningsong? asks the cairn patriarch.