The Heartwood Edge control

This time her hunt had brought her farther.  The river was massing with fish, and though some had gone towards the lake closer to Sunspire, she had backtracked along the water's edge while looking for a better place to hunt them and had ended up following the greater mass of them towards a different lake (still quite a ways ahead) that she was vaguely familiar with from when the days were short and the world was locked in ice and snow.  The charred forest she was in looked not quite as bleak as it had back in those days -- there were some plants, but obviously no trees could have grown in the matter of months between visits.  This was definitely going to be a trip that would take her long to return from, just based on the distance covered.  But hell, at least she'd be very well fed, wouldn't she?  A little bit extra walking for much easier fishing.

Treason had found a spot she was happy to try to fish from, a nice rock that was enough out of the water that she didn't have to be eternally soaked as she watched for the best opportunity -- she was still damp from a few previous attempts, though.  She was doing a pretty good impression of a small and oddly-colored bear, finally splashing into the water and coming up with a large fish flopping in her maw.  Treason sloshed her way back through the shallows to shore, settling down to devour her catch.

Staying sharp was a warrior's best asset. Let the claws and fangs dull, the mind wander, and all is lost. Gwynedd had become too complacent, too comfortable in his position in life, and the crown had been stolen from him, right under his nose. His breath, too. Should Ioan's warriors come to the borders of Moonspear and ask for his head, Llewellyn would have no answer for them should he idle too long. He must stay focused--he must not live to survive, but to thrive.

Lest he become too complacent on the mountain, Llewellyn engages in sporadic scouting trips; today's small adventure took him to a forest in a sad state of affairs, charred from some long-ago blaze. His mouth pulls tight in something almost--but not quite--sadness at the sight, eyes wandering over the blackened trees. Though he had preached to Speedy that water eclipsed fire in terms of potential damage, flames were not without the power of destruction. These woods alone are proof of that.

Still, there was life here, if one looked beyond the wreckage. Greenery here and there, sprouting from the ashes. And movement ahead--a woman with a fish in her jaws, freshly caught, water dripping from her muzzle. His eyes linger over her body in frank appreciation; she is built like a warrior queen, large and muscular, and her pelt a gleaming white, marked curiously with ebony.

Llewellyn gives a chuff to let her know he is passing through, hoping to engage in a conversation with the woman. If she be a loner, she is an excellent potential recruit to add to Moonspear's fighting force. And if part of a pack, well. . .he hopes to remedy Charon's explanation that they have no allies living close. For who will bail you out in times of trouble, if you have no friends nearby? His sapphire eyes are uncharacteristically warm as he approaches, stopping several paces from her.

Stepping onto the shore, she shook out her pelt and set the fish on the ground.  Placing a large paw on the still-wiggling fish, Treason was about to sit down and enjoy her meal when the other wolf announced his presence.  Her head snapped up and her cyan gaze quickly locked on to him.  It wasn't like he was inconspicuous -- the color of his pelt stood out at this time of year, as did hers.

Though she was always the sort to give everyone an once-over with a critical eye when she first met them, perhaps it was because of some of her recent plans that she took a little bit more time to look him over.  She wasn't exactly subtle about it, but why would she be?  Anyone worth their salt would make sure they weren't getting in to any trouble.  First impression, he didn't seem hostile, so if he was after her catch, he was being sneaky about it.  Was he also a soldier?  Scars said probably, build echoed that.  Hm.  Given how things were going, perhaps she should be a little more inquisitive than usual when it came to actual interaction...  Just in case things went wrong or very right.

Though he might be warm, she in comparison was a cold and calculated machine and it was hard for her to seem otherwise, even if for once she might be curious.  The fact that she wasn't going to give anyone or anything a chance at taking the fish away from her didn't help.  With a tip of her head back towards the water, she spoke, More in the river, if you want.  Treason's voice was even and not sharp and sarcastic at this point.  Give that some time.  Apparently she was going to make 110% sure he was either not hungry or was busy getting his own before chowing down.

He did smell of a pack, and though she knew that Sunspire and Moonspear weren't exactly on the best of terms, there was one problem with this -- she didn't actually know what a Moonspear wolf smelled like these days.  Or, really any other pack, as she didn't particularly get out much.  He was just some pack wolf, as far as she knew.  Thus she had no reason to be nice, no reason to be cautious, she would just be herself, which didn't always end well if they had an entirely different set of expectations.

She does not attempt to make pleasantries, nor even feign the appearance of cordiality. He takes it with some affront--having been raised to use flowery words at the start of an interaction and save succinctness for later--but part of him welcomes the change. She is all-too real; she pulls no punches. In response to her remark, he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I do not care for fish," Llewellyn responds, nose wrinkling the slightest bit at the scent wafting from her kill. Saltwater creatures were fine, even sometimes refreshing, but those that swam in these inland waters are much too bland for his taste. "You are welcome to all the fish in the river, if you so choose." There is the barest hint of wry laughter in his words; the smile soon fades, and his tone grows more serious.

The woman smelled of crisp mountains and other wolves, and he regards her with a curious but measured gaze, pausing a moment before speaking again. "Where do you hail from?" he asks simply, pushing pleasantries aside--both for her sake and for his. An extended trip away from Moonspear is not much too his liking: he wanted to keep today's excursion brief and trouble-free. Extract relevant information, make an ally, leave.

The only way Treason would be able to keep up with more wordy sorts would be if she was busily trying to verbally eviscerate someone, so it was probably for the best she'd kept cutting to the point.  The less she spoke, the less things were going to go off the rails.  Probably.

To her, taste didn't matter.  It was fuel to keep her going, and even better was the fact it was so easy.  If you screwed up hunting a rabbit, the whole neighborhood would be wary for hours, but the fish were so plentiful and so dumb that waiting a minute before trying again might be unnecessary.  Mm, your loss.  I'd bring most of them home if I could carry them.  It was unfortunate wolves didn't come with backpacks.  At least it didn't seem scarcity of prey was everywhere, just located back on their mountain.  Thus far Treason's ventures elsewhere had been productive and she stayed at much the same level of fitness as she'd been before anyone noticed the change.

She watched him for a moment longer then lay down to start picking at the fish's now still form, apparently having decided that no, he really wasn't going to steal her fish.  If he wanted an actual conversation, it was always faster to not completely gorge herself in the middle of a sentence.  It wasn't like the river was going to empty in the next few minutes either.  Sunspire.  Yourself?  Somewhere west or he'd be really far from home.

"Your gain," Llewellyn counters, eyes glittering like the water. He ponders what she offers, the name she's given. Sunspire. It holds not the slightest bit of familiarity in his mind, though it bears slight resemblance to the name of his own pack, Moonspear. Perhaps this is what gives him a sense of kinship with the laconic woman, and prompts him to say the name of his new band in turn.

"Moonspear," he answers, "though I am new to that kingdom, having come from the south." His eyes linger on her face, watching each muscle, every facet. "Have you heard of a land called Mynydd?" Was there recognition in her gaze? Does her mouth betray prior knowledge of the place? His next move hinges on her body language, the way she answers this question, both physically and verbally. He is prepared to give the name he gave Speedy, if it comes to that.

She'd dipped her head for a bite as he replied, but as he did so Treason looked up, swallowing the chunk of fish before replying, Really, Moonspear?  It probably held the most emotion out of anything she'd said so far, as it was rather like dangling a string in front of a cat -- not that she was going to attack him or anything, but that it was a chance to speak to an "enemy" that she hadn't previously known.  She regarded him with renewed interest, she licked her lips, putting some words together to ask about this curiosity, but before she could follow up on it, he spoke again. 

She shook her head, No, I came from the north.  I've only been slightly farther south than this.  The lake.  The one at the end of this river, in fact.  She had no interest in his former home and it was likely impossible for her to have ever heard of it.  It was eons away, certainly.  Heck, it could be in another solar system.  Let's rewind and go back to the more interesting bit, The Moonspear wolves didn't say anything to you about Sunspire, then?  Given that he hadn't reacted negatively at least...

His mouth twitches once, the only outward sign of the relief he feels at her negative answer. Much more intriguing to him was her attitude toward the name of his pack, and the question she shoots him. Charon had not said a word about this Sunspire, nor had anyone else. The pale alpha had painted a visual map for him--no allies or enemies, nearby.

Had he been deceived?

"What is Moonspear, to you?" Llewellyn asks, an edge to his voice. He did not appreciate being given the run-around by a woman, no matter how capable she might be. Especially a woman he did not know or trust, and who insisted on digging into this apparent connection. "Where is Sunspire? How far have you traveled?"

Treason took another bite of the fish, figuring out how to answer the questions before deciding that she was going to do so in reverse order.  She tipped her head towards the distant range, That way.  Took a while to get a good patch of stream.  But hey, at least she did eventually.  The easy food was welcome.

Don't know the story firsthand, but my alphas came from Moonspear.  I was given the impression that the pack hated them after.  She shrugged, I'd expect that'd be a thing that'd last -- but if that wasn't the case, then perhaps I was misinformed... And then I have to wonder what else I might have been misinformed about in turn.  As she'd spoken the tone had turn, ending darker and more serious, though not pointed at him -- instead, at history.  Her expression had followed suit, going from neutral to a frown and her eyes drifted back down to the fish for a moment.  Treason made no move beyond that.  They were far enough from any pack land that there wasn't any point of fighting from her perspective, if she had even wanted to in the first place.  It wasn't her history, it wasn't her war.

To a certain point she almost wanted a reason to find out that the wolves she followed weren't worth it.  It would make her decisions much easier if her idea of the pack was built on a lie.  Treason looked back up, gaze snapping back to the man with a cant of her head.  Did he know?

Like pieces of an intricate puzzle, things begin to come together as the woman speaks. He watches her, eyes narrowed, realization slowly blooming over his features. Loyalty and betrayal. Charon had given him a lesson when he had first arrived at Moonspear, a story. Wolves who left, and took half the pack with them.

It is too much of a coincidence for him to ignore, and when she is finished, Llewellyn seizes upon it with alacrity, a slight snarl in his voice. "My leader spoke of treasonous wolves," he begins, utterly unaware of the irony in his word choice. "Now I have a name to include with the tale." His frown deepens as he stares her down, eyes raking over the firm muscles, the marks of battle.

"Were you one of the warriors they stole from Moonspear?" he accuses, decorum forgotten entirely in his anger--springing solely from his newfound loyalty. "Surely not, if you still stand before me. Unless you have no shame," he added, a derisive snort escaping his nostrils. Silently, he prepares himself for a fight. What a treat it would be, to bring home the head of a traitor and lay it at Charon's feet.

He could paint himself with her blood, present himself to Hydra. . .

Treason, however, didn't seem impressed.  She didn't stir.  She wouldn't be provoked by him.  She was better and didn't really have a horse in this race any more.  Treason saw herself as a Sunspire wolf perhaps only in name, now.  For that was part of her quest, wasn't it?  To look elsewhere.  But my, my he was starting to get riled, wasn't he?  It's not like it was a secret.  I'm pretty sure others have crossed paths.  I'm pretty sure the rest of your pack know.  Shrug.  It wasn't her fault if they didn't feel like telling him.  She'd leave him mentioning her name out for now.  If he was going to keep fussing, he hadn't earned it.

As I told you before, she said somewhat curtly, I only went as far as the lake.  If Moonspear is one of those mountains that way, nose towards them, then isn't that quite impossible?  Ugh.  She hated it when they didn't listen.  Treason wasn't a big talker but did her best to at least be attentive.  Not to mention, it made him far less attractive.

You're the only Moonspear wolf I've met, so unless you're wanting to prove them right, perhaps you should focus on proving them wrong instead.  At least for now she'd stay posed over her fish.  No one would dare steal me, anyway.  I'm sure I'd cause plenty of trouble for anyone who tried.  Okay, that was more amusing to her -- enough so that the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.  Hell, it might almost be fun.  Putting on an act but actually leaving willingly would be a fair enough excuse to leave Sunspire as well.  So just how easy was it to plan your own kidnapping anyway?

For all his merits, Llewellyn tends to be a little narrow-sighted. Battle tactics? Sure, lay them all out. But he is notorious for missing details in a conversation, especially focused on other things--like he had when thinking of Mynydd--and he has forgotten that she mentioned her travels. He'll be damned, though, if he lets the slip show. He doubles down on the scowl instead, waiting until she exhausts herself before speaking again.

"You could have been lying. I don't know you from anyone else," he counters. "And I have better things to do than gossip about traitors. Out of sight, out of mind." Though now, perhaps, one of them is clearly in sight. Even if she is telling the truth, then she is at least partially devoted to them--these wolves, who took so freely from a kingdom and left it bleeding.

The wounds of Ioan's betrayal are too fresh still for Llewellyn to let this past injustice slide.

"It is a grievous fault, to support those who would betray their leader," Llewellyn says coldly, looking down his nose at her. "Perhaps you should steal yourself away from that kind of company." He knows not why he is telling her what to do. His words come from emotion rather than logic; pathos and ethos hand-in-hand, with logos cast aside.

This dude was a few cards short of a deck, wasn't he?  So determined to make her the villain when she was especially innocent in this case, How do you expect to punish actual traitors if you don't know who they are or anything about them?  It seemed pretty obvious to her, but she was a cold creature who operated on logic than emotion.  Though, just imagine what would happen if he screwed up.  It'd be kind of hilarious to watch from the sidelines if he went and started a brand new shiny war because he was too fanatical about his newfound home.  Yeah.  If this dude was a good representation of what she'd find in Moonspear, she'd probably do best to cross them off the list of opportunities.

He seemed so dead set on there being some horrible betrayal, but was there really?  Did the Moonspear alpha think that everyone who joined their pack were their slaves for life?  From my understanding, they left to start a family, as is typical -- as is nature.  Would you have preferred they stay and the pack balloon past a size where the land couldn't handle it and make everyone move?  If they broke promises when they left, then by all means, inform me so I can make a choice.  Otherwise there's nothing to hear but biased opinions.  She shrugged her shoulders, dipping her head for another bite.  Maybe every pack was pretty useless.

Her tone is far from agreeable, to him; his face sours even more as she speaks. He tries--and fails--to see the merit in her argument, ending up shaking his head, the fur along his spine bristling. She clearly comes from a different understanding of loyalty than he. Even if they were on the same wavelength, there are flaws in her argument that she does not--or refuses to--see.

"I know nothing of any promises; I did not receive a comprehensive history lesson when I joined the pack," he responds, voice cooler and calmer than before. Where there once was fire, there was now only ice. "I did not need it. What I do know is that according to nature--" he apes her tone, a little nastily-- "you only need two wolves to start a family. Not an entire group of warriors."

Llewellyn rolls his shoulders, a gusty sigh escaping his lips. "Like I said before, I have no desire, nor time, to talk about traitors," he rumbles. He dips his muzzle at the stream. "Enjoy your fish."

Without another word, the golden prince turns tail and leaves, head held imperiously high. No minds were changed in the course of this conversation--how could they be? These were clearly two very different wolves with very different opinions of the world. So polarized were they that persuasion was all but impossible. Perhaps, one day, she would see the light, and return to Moonspear as a sort of reparation for the wrongs her chosen pack had done them.

Llewellyn was not confident of this outcome, so he instead forgets her entirely.

So did he not like knowledge or what?  Wouldn't that be something to ask more about, especially if the topic had come up?  What a weirdo.  From such a promising male to such a... complete and utter unredeemable member of her reject list.

And wow, that's what they told him?  An entire group of warriors?  Maybe if they considered every wolf from the group a warrior, but a few of them certainly weren't.  Treason stifled a laugh into sort of a snort.  His irritation seemed to make her more flamboyant in tone, Ah yes, an entire group..! Of, uh.  What, like two fighters?  Okay, maybe three if they counted Rannoch, but that wasn't his forte.  The guy was acting like they'd taken like ten wolves or something -- Moonspear had certainly done a number on him.  Poor sap had been brainwashed with a history that was rather lacking in the facts that she knew were true.  

As he turned to leave she replied, quite sugary and chipper, Enjoy your tentative grasp on actual history, I guess!  Yeah, of all her options on the table, she wasn't going to go join Moonspear if that dude was a fair representation.  She wasn't into joining cults unless she could rip them apart from the inside, and that sounded like more effort than dealing with Wraen talking higher than her station.  It had on paper sounded like a good thing to investigate -- for if one was wrong then certainly the other was right, but it turned out that one might be wrong, but the other wronger.

With a bit more bemused snickering, she goes back to her fish, then on to hunt more once it was finished.