Cassiopeia's View understand that i’ll wait for thee, i’ll try to catch up if you move quickly

upward they went, two souls bitterly marching against the coldness of the mountains. imrathil thought back to something that he knew he had heard once — but where? nothing wounded moves uphill.. it sat on the surface of his mind, an oft repeated phrase he knew he had heard time and time again. 

but they were wounded, weren’t they? he was still favoring his front leg, and wardruna was not getting any younger. he wondered if these miserable mountains reminded the old and sovereign beast of his homeland — jotunns, sleeping under a pale blanket of snow. 

they would rest soon, but not yet - imrathil’s goal was to hit the shelf just a little higher up. he sensed rather than knew that there might be something worth discovering, and soldiered on through the bitter press of snow.

The boy avoided the natural pathway which led the long-way-around to Nocturne Summit, although it was some place he hadn't tried to climb before; instead his route kept to the lower segments, the alpine level of the endless mountain chain. He was alone, which was becoming increasingly common, but Revui was no longer afraid to be out and about like this, having become confident in his mountaineering skills (and as always, eager to test his many teeth). His tongue habitually flicked over the empty gap where one of his teeth had been knocked out, and it still throbbed on occasion from the cold. The boy thought back to his attempt to test Dirge, and as frustration began to rear its ugly head at the memory he picked up his pace.

So it was that the silver serpent wove his way through the trees, until they could no longer handle the upper reaches of the mountain's exposed ridges. These he climbed with some determination until they evened out to a series of plateaus — from here, he could see the whole valley below. He felt worn from the hiking but exhilarated, and with the winter winds blustering at his dense coat he felt like a king. There was movement below him and Revui's gaze snapped to it quickly; it wasn't a wolf in the valley, but someone on a lower ridge climbing a more dangerous route. At first he thought it was Arcturus and a startling level of fear gripped him.

He moved to intercept, blindly clamboring along until the stranger was closer — and by size alone he could estimate that he had been wrong. This wasn't his brother.

a dark shape moved beneath imrathil, but he did not catch it until the wind sharply rapped against the stony mountain, carrying with it the scent of company that was not his own or wardruna's.

he paused, peering down along the rocky slabs: nothing but beaten, broken company -- he was about to continue his upward climb, but movement caught his eye.

what he had presumed was a stone was moving, and evidently, not a stone at all -- imrathil sucked in his breath and made towards the creature, measuring him carefully. in a past life he might have welcomed the company -- but now, he was worried this male might present him or wardruna with harm. he hadn't detected any scents, and hoped the male was here out of coincidence rather than malevolent intent.

hey, imrathil ventured, his voice entirely betraying his trepidation. he had never been a wolf with much of a poker face, anyway.

Although he realized it wasn't Arcturus, he did not stop his interception. The silver-clad boy swept towards the stranger and inspected him. His eyes gave one swift look-over but it was Revui's nose that did the most work; his tail went up like a proud banner, his scruff puffed out, and he looked more intimidating, but he was merely trying to convey that he was interested -- and a threat, if need be -- while he nosed through the stranger's coat and gathered his foreign scents. There were no traces of Blackfeather there, which was a plus. No sign of multi-layered wolf scent, but a wildness that was inherently appealing.

When they spoke - a hushed hello - Revui drew away with a soft chuff, as if the sound had deterred him from a more thorough strip-search. His hackles smoothed over as he rounded to the other side of the wanderer but there was still an evident swagger, a sense of imposing weight to the large teen. He huffed to clear his nose, and after his voice boomed with a too-loud quality (common to those without any social graces), Who're you?

it had been some time since imrathil had been inspected -- especially so thoroughly. he could not help the spooked raze of fur that stood up along his spine, though his ears remained flat and his tail limp as revui stalked around him, his gait full of saucy confidence that had long since fled imrathil's gait.

then, the question. imrathil's features drew in confusion, a mixture of frustration and hurt. who was he? wardruna's friend. a vagrant. some lost boy. the memories he had were thin as spider's silk, and when he grasped for them their webbings trailed away, pulled by an unseen and unfelt wind into the blackness.

"imrathil." he answered, though he knew he was someone before imrathil. but it didn't matter now, because whoever walked before imrathil had died the day the bear had attacked him - what was standing in front of revui was just meat reborn. just a wolf. just imrathil. "who are you?"