Heron Lake Plateau count me in unnanounced.

The white wolf licked his lips, a look of satisfaction on the sharp features of his face. Taking the half-eaten kill from the unknown coyote's cache had not been the most honest moment of his life, but it had by far not been the most dishonest either, which gave him the room to feel perfectly content with his actions. Not that he wouldn't had it been the most dishonest moment of his life, but we don't need to get into that one. The Demonte snapped a brittle bone between his teeth and dug at the marrow momentarily before tossing it aside and aiming for more easily attainable scraps of meat elsewhere on the carcass.

The sun warming his back was comfortable, even as it grazed the less-than-pretty wound midway down his back. It had come from his former alpha only a week prior - a man who had been oddly displeased to find his mate enjoying the company of another far more than she'd ever enjoyed his, the other being Trouvère, needless to say. In his professional opinion, the encounter had been worth it even though the wound stung from time to time. Her mate had been old and stupid and she was far too pretty to be wasted on a man who complained of joint aches when he climbed on top of her. Really, he'd done them both a favor. Maybe he'd appreciate his girl a little more now and strive to be less dull.

In any event, Tru swallowed the last bit of meat and stood to give his coat a good shake. His hair was wily and unkept as always, giving him the rogue-ish appearance he preferred for himself. With an almost lazy sigh, he turned his head to gaze about him thoughtfully. What, oh what, would he do with himself today...

He had only begun by gradually ranging out, bit by tiny, painstaking bit.. but he had rebuilt enough courage in following herds across the Tuktu to make this a whole lot easier. Silas had traveled further than he had planned, but once out here, it did not feel so bad--and he stayed at it, day after day, letting his nose lead him wherever it needed to. He hadn't been back to the Glade for quite a time now, not that he had ever come to make a presence for himself there, all awkwardly ill-fitting to their aspirations for bold warriors. All the same, he liked the lushness spring brought back to the lands and the prey alike. Hours would burn away just chasing, tracking.. doing what exactly he felt like he just should, somehow.

When he lost track of a trio of deer he had been tailing for a morning, he realized they had started to carry him a path towards the Glade. He began to head back towards it, but felt a twisting in his gut when he did; would he be welcome at all? They had been busy with a misplaced Tapat, last he had known. There was the allure of.. just not doing that, suddenly. Maybe this way would be easier? Maybe he should just roll with his distance, and not look back? Although it made him feel bad for thinking that way. He felt a sullen ugliness beginning to creep up on him, but thankfully, scenery granted him distraction. He jogged faster, and then even faster until he started to spy the shape of another wolf ahead. This drew him in, ears up and eyes wide.

Silas did approach all on his own, but it was done so very carefully the second he identified the wolf as the inevitable stranger. His tail gave an uncertain little wag when his steps slowed down enough to creep up closer towards the older male. He wondered swiftly, should he say hi? Everything about his posture suggested a neutral, hesitantly friendly, greeting.. so he went with that getting his message across for right now.

OMG MY BBY <33333

Tru heaved a sigh as he stared off at an empty space between two trees in the distance. He was considering heading in that direction, but there was nothing on the breeze that told him that this path would prove to be of any interest to him. He let his eyes become unfocussed as he mentally began to map what he knew of the territory, hoping this thought process would assist him in making a better decision about what he would do next. He had never been in the area before, but he did know about landscapes in general that told him there was a large water source probably somewhere nearby for a coyote to make a cache in this particular location. That could be of some fun, and it could even lead him to his next pack...

His ears flicked upwards as unexpected sound came to him. The DeMonte turned his head to settle his gaze upon a dark shape heading towards him. It was a wolf, but younger than he, dark in color with a sturdy, healthy frame. Tru quirked a brow at the boy who regarded him with wordless friendliness. Figuring there was nothing better for him to be doing, the pale wolf shifted to face the stranger. "Hey there," he said, offering a grin.

*a creepy candyvan rolls sloooowly by*

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Grievous was a different wolf in warm weather. Quieter. Lethargic.

Less dangerous.

His paws felt heavier, and his jaw seemed consistently slack. Leaking. His formerly luscious coat now fell from him in thick clumps, and he would briefly clog the skies with each shake of his lean carriage, his hair billowing around him like a noxious cloud.

These things, cultivated by a proverbial feeling of stickiness, made him feel less superior by appearance alone; though his loping swagger certainly didn't betray it.

Following his nose, he traipsed upon the scene of two wolves; a pale ruffian, carved into his prime, and a young vagabond, just nearing the cusp of his. The subdued gatekeeper approached but kept his distance, establishing his presence without yet joining them. It was first for him to know if the air was right for three males— and it gave him to moment to gauge how best to collect them at his side.

His tail lifted and flagged slowly— a storm, yearning to approach.

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OOOHH <3

He felt his heart-rate quicken when the stranger looked at him, regarded him, and seemed to take it all with an alright enough expression for Silas' worry to not go sky high yet. The wound he spied on his back was a little perplexing although he seemed fine otherwise. The tracker didn't make a big habit out of approaching others without reasons to and even still, somehow, here he was.

 He decided to blame being on his own for a bit in the sudden pull towards other a fellow wolf--stranger or otherwise. Perhaps not a habit he'd be wise to keep around, he thought... but so far, this instance wasn't landing him anywhere foul. "Hi," he said in return, having felt it easier to follow the guy's lead in greetings than really forge the ground all on his own. Since his grin had cued him into a good-natured sort of standing, he went on: "I'm Silas. I didn't mean to.. uh, interrupt or bother anything. I did just kind of come up on you and all." He gave an apologetic splay then. "Do you know this place much..? I was tracking and I.." his words cut short when he noticed the other male, and he forgot what he was going to say when he got a full look at him.

His approach confused the yearling for a halfstep, and he felt his ears wilt to angled back now as he grappled a new wariness at the sight of his whole.. everything. However, the Ostrega stayed rooted where he was, closer in proximity to pale stranger but eyes mainly on the menacing stranger as he realized how much more experienced both of them had to be, to contrast him--drifting and borderline aimless on most days in the grand scheme. As per the usual, Silas felt out of place and with nerves winding tight fast. The waver of his tail had stopped, and stuck tensely to the back of his leg, and he watched what may unfold carefully, certain not to fuel anything unnecessarily.

A simple greeting seemed to be the only queue the yearling needed to allow a flow of words to spill from his tongue. He quirked a brow as he listened and considered, but was quickly distracted at the approach of another male. Apparently this day was going to be a bit more interesting than he'd anticipated. Tru gazed at the additional stranger with a nuetral, assessing eye.

This one had definitely seen better days... He looked rather worse for wear, but something in his countenance told Tru there was alpha-like strength hidden beneath the crumbling edges. The DeMonte glanced back at Silas to see him shrinking slightly. He smirked slightly at this before looking at the other male.

"You coming to join the conference?" Tru called to the other, inviting him to come nearer if he so chose. He was not one to shirk from the more dominant of his species. Actual danger, oh hells yes. He was a terrible coward when it came to his life actually being threatened, such as an entire, angry pack. One on one with other wolves was nothing to him, though, so he didn't flinch at the grizzled appearance of the other loner.

He twisted his head back to Silas shortly after speaking, intent on answering the question that had been at least halfway posed. "I don't know the land at all," he replied, "This is completely new territory for me, though I've seen plenty like it. You started to say you were tracking - you lost or did you lose something?"

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The events unfolded quite naturally to Grievous; the younger wolf had fitted himself with a collar of mild insecurity, but the older wolf— with the wry glint of an experienced maverick— found no immediate threat in him, as he’d meant. The basilisk perked up as he was addressed, rearing wordlessly to begin his descent in a slow, easy plod that brought him into the tail-end of their conversation.

His eyes, with their shadows like old gold, met the inviter’s champagne gaze first. His tail wagged evenly, meeting the man briefly on a level of respect as he came standing to form a misshapen triangle between the three of them. His slender jaw angled towards the young adult then, and he fixed the lean agouti with a critical gaze.

Besides the temperature of his eyes, the wolf seemed completely relaxed.

“Comrades,” he greeted his fellow vagrants in a sonorous drawl. “I am Grievous.” He noticed that they did not smell of one another, which made him ask offhandedly: “are thee well-suited to the Casanovian lifestyle?” He looked between them both, everything about him even, commanding, and almost impish. A bleak and daring wolf uncrowned.

“Or dost thine blood call for more than the singleton’s plight?”

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Gladly, he forfeit the lead of this to the older males but concern kept him from excusing himself entirely. They gathered, and he continued to feel his typical uneasiness, so was more than willing to leech off the pale male's confidence and continue to follow his lead. "Oh.. no, not lost-lost. I was tracking some deer, but lost those for now," he explained as he shifted his weight uncomfortably and glanced between the two, wary of the scrutiny of the second stranger and fessing up to his dead trail--some tracker he was with that for a piece of a first impression. He didn't want to say too much about the Glade's claim not being very far away, considering the distance he looked to put himself between it and himself now that he had a decent enough opportunity to do so. If anyone even still remained, they shouldn't miss him, anyway.

Grievous, though, he. When he spoke, Silas' ears couldn't decide what to make of it all. He had never heard a manner of speech like that. Perhaps some of the overall meaning was lost on him, but he was made tense because of it all--yet this was nothing new, nor unexpected. "I don't know..?" The Ostrega would need to know more. He hoped that the older males would fill in the blanks more appropriately so he could figure out what he was doing here--and how he was supposed to actually answer something like that. He just wanted a life, something peaceful, and something worthwhile. Something that somehow suited him. So far, it seemed an elusive goal; he was not sure where else to look.

Tru could feel the eyes of the other wolf upon him as he turned his attention to Silas. He ignored it, trying to pay attention as the young wolf explained his plight. He hadn't scented any deer around here himself - at least, not recently. He was preparing to inform the youngster about this when the other came near enough to speak and Tru found his attention divided.

The DeMonte blinked at the stranger as he introduced himself and then proceeded to... well. Tru wasn't sure. He knew some fancy words being a poet aka terrible rake. But the way this guy strung those words together was just plain bizarre. By the end of it, the bard could only shoot a sidelong glance at his youthful companion before looking back at the Shakespear wannabe.

"Huh?" Tru asked, almost simultaneously with Silas's own I don't know..? Seemed they were on the same page about this dude.

Grievous knew well that the wolves of the south were unfamiliar with his tongue, but it didn't stop him from using his first brand of wolfspeak in the hopes that he wouldn't have to change it. Unfortunately, he was faced now by two true southerners; and though the snowdrift male's appearance suggested a northern heritage, he had not come from what Grievous considered the True North. Nevertheless, he didn't falter in his interest.

Bluntly, then, he said, eyes leaping between the dark yearling and the pale renegade as he continued. I've come to offer up a family, and a legacy in exchange for thy support. A secluded corner of these lands, near the sea and mountains and rivers -- a potential haven -- has drawn my attention as a place to thrive peacefully and I need others to make it so.

Knowing neither of them knew what the menacing wolf was talking about helped him not feel so glaringly misplaced. Marginally so, at least. Silas would take whatever he could get, although swiftly felt his mistrust looking to brew the more he understood. He had only barely separated himself from the Glade, and already, this was sounding an awful lot like another wolf looking to abduct him into a cause--even without a whole lot of prefacing. Fresh of the face of two failed instances of packhood and wolves that had been his comrades, the dark Ostrega seemed to tend towards wariness first of all. "But you don't even know anything about us...?" he asked, punctuating his words with a squint and nervous lick. Why would he want them? Or maybe why should they care? He hoped that his confusion would be obvious enough and that hopefully, pale-coated fellow might have a neater approach to this in mind.

The oddly-tongued wolf offered his words again, this time with the promise that they would make more sense to the pair that stood before him. Tru narrowed his eyes in a neutrally thoughtful way, listening to each word to try and discern the meaning behind them. By the end, he was officially onto the game. This dude wanted some characters to fall into line behind him. He wanted what every power hungry, testosterone-filled dude of his kind wanted - minions to do his bidding.

It was an impressively jaded, presumptive opinion. Fortunately, Tru was not one to begrudge the other male this desire. It didn't matter to him one way or the other what this guy wanted of him - it would only matter to him when the other male insisted on taking his lack of interest poorly. That, unfortunately, happened often. But, Tru was a weirdly optimistic wolf, so he simply glanced at his younger friend when he posed a very obvious question to the stranger, then glanced back expectantly when it came said stranger's turn to answer.

SORRY FOR HOLDING THIS UP ALL YEAR D: <3 <3 <3

Grievous was amused by the boy's apprehension, and could understand it fully, even if he didn't necessarily agree with it. If any of them were truly a threat to the other, he was sure it would've been known by now, and he had no particular interest in knowing where they were from or what they had been through. Most of that felt irrelevant to him. "Thy smell of no sickness, and appearances suggest thou art intelligent enough to at least survive alone... What more must I know? I suppose I could ask for thine history, or thine loyalty, but only time brings forth such things and I find little need to ask for them when it would be quite easy for thee to lie. Wolves come and go, and thy would either like companionship or not." He looked towards the palest of the trio, who had yet to lose interest himself, and he smiled. "It is all I seek for myself -- among other things, as I am a wolf who craves duty and those to protect... but all that will indeed come later should fortune smile upon me."

He knew both men had their skeptics of him, a very large and dangerous stranger, and he was not keen on begging either for their bodies to join his stead. Rather than wait for either to decide if he was worth the chance or not, he said: "I will not take any more of thy time. The forest I have come to want is nearer to the sea." He motioned in the direction of the shadewood, and in the same movement turned his body towards it. "If either of thee find yourselves in that direction, remember I would be glad to have thy company... and learn more about you," he added, looking pointedly at Silas, "if that is what thy wish."

And with a small incline of his nose, and a politely detached "gentleman," he turned fully to be on his way again.

<3 & god he's such an awkwardo v:

Silas forcibly kept his expression steady. The explanation.. certainly gave him more to listen to, but he was not sure if he could call it the answer he was looking for. Not that any of it was wrong. He just could not decide how he felt about this proposition besides the kneejerk unnerved he grappled with. It came to him suddenly and with an intimidating stranger for a figurehead, who could blame him? That only stirred unease in him, a yearling once more upturned from the closest thing to home since before winter had come. He felt far too unsettled to make any weighty decisions like lending his loyalty anew so soon.

"Oh.. well, okay," he eventually accepted with a steep nod because he couldn't--and wouldn't--argue with any of it. "Thanks.. for the info." And the offer, although he couldn't bring himself quite to say it, not while feeling weird about it. He still noted the direction he pointed towards and peered back, unable to say any more than that.

And, after watching the stranger begin to make for his leave, Silas was quick to parrot a similar momentum as his formalities tied up and all he did was stare back. The Ostrega then proceeded to mutter something about needing to think and just go someplace that wasn't here, then nodded curtly on his turning away. He slid from the scene to digest that alone.