Swiftcurrent Creek deadly light

The poor girl had returned to the hollow to find it vacant. The scents were still fresh but the absence of any familiarity made her stomach churn and her limbs feel weak, especially after all the effort it had taken for her to climb down to the valley below and back again.
She found the trail through the mountains that Sif had taken—alongside other sisters, and Wardruna, which did not sit well with her at all. This had been home! This was where they were going to stay. What about Refurhol? What about -- What about Rheia? The girl pined for a day or so, listless and alone within the hole Sif had dug.
When she grew tired of this, she made her way in pursuit of her sisters.
So it was that Rheia found herself within this valley. The path had been obscured by monumentous snowfall and the occasional howl of the winds. On more than one occasion the girl thought she'd gotten turned around or, at the very least, stuck in a dead-end. She was tired, hungry, freezing cold, and missing her sister to the point where she thought her heart would stop.
Finally she came upon a sluggish river—and though Rheia was tired she remained skeptical here, for her previous experience still had her wrattled.

Winter was in full swing, bringing with it snowfall and frigid winds. Oftentimes the weather was relentless, free to cut through the wilds with few landmarks shielding their inhabitants from it. He appreciated his valley for many reasons, though the weather was, perhaps, one of the biggest; the walls broke down the force of the wind, keeping it from whipping across the bodies of him and his followers. It was chilly, still, but far less windy than the areas beyond his home—this, he believed, was surely appreciated by more than just himself. And whilst Bearclaw was a true safe haven, he still found himself pulling away from its protection, often needing to go into the surrounding territories and check things out; luckily for him, his northern genes were strong, his body providing him with a winter coat far thicker than the southerners.

Alexander travelled northwest that day, cutting through the meadow and glaring in the glade’s direction whilst doing so; long enough has passed since his last encounter with an unwelcome fox in his home that he was sure they’d finally gotten the message. The presumption put a slight swagger in his step, proud to have defended his home—even if the assailants were fairly harmless scavengers, he viewed it as a win.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the riverbank; he was quick, even when trekking through the snow, body accustomed to it thanks to both experience and his build. He approached the water’s edge, eyes peering into the seemingly calm waters, but he went no farther than that. He was mildly interested in reaching the other side but, knowing that he could just go around, he didn’t bother with making the trip through the river. He glanced to his right, considering making the trip to the other side, but ended up turning to his left instead. Xan walked in that direction for a fair amount of time before coming across a pale mass, which caused him to slow but not stop. Chuffing, he tried to draw her attention towards him, not wanting to scare her; he was too close to the water’s edge and didn’t want to take a risk and startle her.

The water of the creek was moving quickly enough to not have frozen over yet, although winter's icy touch had still attempted to form a old upon it. The edges—where it was placid or nearly so—were frosted in the deeper portions and a few inches solid where the water was thin. She could spy upon some of the river stones poking their tops through the ice and it was, in a way, charming. Aside from the twinkling sound of the creek's central pulse, the area was quiet. It was still and calm, and all she could hear aside from this was her own racing heart.

Rheia was panting hard as she traced a route along the creekside. Her ribs were expanding and contracting at quite the pace, and even when she assumed a lazier pace, things did not settle. The stress of the climb had been too much for the poor girl; she craned her head low and drank heartily of the cold water with the hope it would soothe, but it only made her feel cold and empty inside. This was no good—if she didn't find Sif—

—a breath on the wind; it was so quiet she nearly missed it beneath her beating heart—

Rheia's head shot up and her eyes locked upon the silhouette of the white wolf and, though he nearly vanished among the snow, her breath hitched in her throat and she felt her heart skip a beat. It was not due to any serendipitous thing such as attraction or 
desire. The poor girlhad moved so quickly that her mind began to spin, and her fear got the better of her. She took a step and the next thing she recalled, she was deep among the snowscape looking up at the heavens.

Alexander was no fool, he did not expect every wolf that he encountered to feel so inclined as to strike up a conversation with him. Some ran and hid, others tried to stand their ground and fend him off, but to fall out? That was a new one. As soon as it happened his muscles tensed, wary but curious—and that curiosity triumphed over all else, pushing him towards her with slicked back ears. He kept his body low, cautious, as he advanced towards her, the reason for her sudden downfall not yet discovered; to even think that he was the cause was something he could not do, thinking it to be an impossible scenario.

The closer he crept, the more he wondered if she was even alive. Perhaps some mysterious force had struck her down, killing the poor girl before she could realise what was going on. The thought stuck with him for several more steps, up until the point where he could see the quickened rise and fall of her sides. So she wasn’t dead—not yet, anyways. The discovery increased his interest tenfold, drawing him so terribly close that he was all but standing over her, nosing through her fur as he inhaled her scent; he sought the tangy fragrance of blood and anything else that might suggest she was wounded, but came up empty. Externally, there was nothing wrong with her—so why the hell did she just fall over like that?

Shaking his head, he took a step back—he continued to hover over her, staring the girl down with a hawkish gaze—and said, “Hey.” He was quiet, the word stretched out, trying to get her back up and moving without startling her. Although, that same soft tone didn’t last for very long. “Hey, get up,” he ordered, taking a step forward and lowering his head so that he could nudge her. “What happened? What are you doing? Get up!” He might as well become a nurse with how wonderful his bedside manners so clearly were.

The crunching of his steps alerted her to his approached and yet, like a rabbit caught in a snare, Rheia could not move. She found it oddly pleasant to be on her back like this - even if it had been by accident - and stared up at the falling snow in a manner to suggest complacency. Her limbs were tucked close to her chest, her tail wrapped awkwardly against her hocks (which themselves occasionally twitched when any small flake landed on her sensitive toe-pads). 

When the man was nearest she didn't feel safe at all, nor contented, for he began to shout. Rheia's calm hastily evaporated. She rolled and kicked as if to defend herself, dragging forelimbs through the snow and causing an uproar of white that briefly hid the stranger from view (and likely herself in reverse). But she did obey, scrambling to her feet during the kerfuffle.

When the mess died down and visibility was improved, the snowscape was mangled to pieces and in the center of it was Rheia - head ducked, ears back, trembling and useless.

A sudden kicking of her legs took him by surprise, forcing him to reverse a few steps so as to avoid being hit. He didn’t know what to make of her or what just happened but, with each passing second, he realised that she was even more peculiar than the last. So when the snow was strewn about, hindering his line of sight, he felt almost disappointed by the inability to see her; however strange she was, it wasn’t enough to make her seem like a danger, but just enough to make her interesting.

The snow settled back down and, again, he could see her. She looked like a child that had just been struck, cowering beneath his gaze but too scared to move. He took a step towards her, and then another, each slow and drawn out to try and keep from spooking her—it felt like he was trying to approach a deer. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her, slowing to a stop. “Why’d you fall over like that?” His voice was quieter than before, smoothed out by the questions he needed to ask and the understanding that one wrong word could very well send her scurrying away.

His body-language was throwing her off. He was very large compared to her and that was intimidating but, he was slow in his approach and had a soothing tone in his voice. All she felt was cold and afraid, and neither of these things would abate when he was so close; then he stopped, but she scampered back a step or two so that there was more of a gap, and a sense of stability could finally be fostered. 

Some of what he said made sense - he sounded almost like Sif - but Rheia still trembled and could not look at him for more than a glance. He was the embodiment of the snow and to catch any glimpse of his strange red eyes made the fur at the back of her neck stand tall.

Without thinking she began to blurt, Adelfí! Adelfí, thélo móno ... Thélo Sif, thélo tin aderfí mou. Although her teeth were chattering in a manner to suggest she was some voracious beast, the words came out cleanly and carried across the snowy expanse; it was doubtful this pale creature would understand her but in her fear, Rheia did not think and merely acted.

As she scampered back, his first instinct was to close the distance between them again, but he resisted the urge to do so; she didn’t seem like she wanted him close, which he was fine with. He settled for just waiting where he was, staring at her expectantly—but when she finally spoke, he had no idea what she was saying. He frowned, his brain replaying her words whilst picking through each of them, only to stop after hitting one in particular: Sif. Although it could be a word in whatever language she was speaking, he had to look further into it.

“Sif?” he questioned. “Do you know Sif?” Was this another one of Wardruna’s wives? No, couldn’t be. He’d seemed awfully protective of his girls, he wouldn’t let one be separated from his group—right? Really, he didn’t know the man well enough to say either way with full certainty.

Everything was happening quickly now. Her babbling, his response, the sudden halt of all thought and then as Rheia registered what he said, confirmation. She nodded slowly at first and then hastily with her deer-in-the-headlight eyes returning to normal. This lasted a split-second only and, as the surprise sank through her, Rheia tried again.

S-Sif, Sif, is sister! That this pale wolf would know of her was fate, surely. That or perhaps both Sif and Wardruna were nearby. Was this another husband? Was Wardruna the type to share his wives openly — was Sif the type of girl to cater to so many men? Along with Rheia's realization that her sister might be near, she also concluded that this world, this new thing she had discovered since leaving the Labrynth, was absolutely confounding.

Sister—where Sif? You, you know? Um, it was irritating that Rheia could not communicate fluently but, if Sif was nearby that could only mean Wardruna too. Know — know Wardruna? Sif's... Sif's husban? She licked her lips after speaking and her ears shot back as if the mere mention of the large man was enough to unsettle her; that wasn't far from the truth for Rheia was nervous of what he represented, but she knew to find one meant finding the other.

Alexander’s ears perked at the mention of the word sister. He was unaware that Sif had any sisters but, with the way this new girl spoke, it was difficult to not see a relation; of course, anyone could have trouble with speaking, they didn’t have to be related to Sif for that, but there were a few too many similarities for him to question the relation. “Calm down,” he said shortly after, wondering if her relaxing might better her speech. Whilst he could understand her fairly well, the panic in her voice bothered him and he suspected that it made talking more difficult for her.

“I know Wardruna,” he responded, brows pinching together briefly, only to smooth out as he continued. “They both live in my valley—they’re members of my pack.” Did she intend to be reunited with them, or was she trying to avoid them? He wondered about this to himself, falling silent for a moment before outright asking, “Are you looking for them?” Reuniting family wasn’t something he generally concerned himself with unless it was his own, but Sif was… interesting. He wanted to help her if he could, even if that meant leading this sister of hers back to the valley.

At the absolute least this pale man seemed knowledgable and recognized what she was saying. He knew Sif and he might've even known Wardruna but, he was a stranger all the same. Rheia was trying to calm down even as he spoke, and when he mentioned that they were part of his pack — and in her mind that meant a part of his family — it stung. Had Sif abandoned her on the mountain? Had she left her there with Refurhol as her only refuge and singular memory of her sister?

He asked her a question but it felt like he was asking it through a fog. Then, before anything else could be said she was hurredly backtracking through the conversation — N-no, no, Wardruna, no, she was shaking her head and skittering backwards as if the mention of the man was what frightened her; in truth, it was the realization that Sif had abandoned her. That her new sister had given up on her. That she had chosen Wardruna over her own sister. It was a pivotal moment for Rheia even if it was based on false information and her own insecurities.

With a small whine passing through her lips Rheia was turning on her heel and bolting from the presence of Xan, heading north until she found a safe place to hide and calm herself down. Once she'd thought things over a bit more then things would be better. For now though, she was afraid for her future.

Alexander watched the girl, awaiting a response, but then panic ensued. Wardruna’s name, coupled with several no’s, slipped out of her mouth and his brows pinched together, utterly confused. Had the man done something to her? As she put more space between them, he took a few steps forward to try and take it away, but his movements were done in vain. All he got was a whine before the girl took off, leaving him behind to stare after her retreating form. Confused and having no true attachments to the girl, the male did not wait for very long before turning and making his way back towards home, her face soon to be forgotten.