Dawnlark Plains v. "hope is the thing with feathers - that perches in the soul"

The swamp had extended between the great monolith of Sunspire and the drastically smaller peak known as Redtail Rise. Skirting the periphereals of the bog with utmost care delivered her from the treachery of a watery mishap but the flaxen femme was not completely spared; Elve had tumbled into the depths after a slip of paw and arrived in Dawnlark thickly frosted with a coat of mud. 

The stench of the ooze greatly offended her pink little nose, scrunching the scarred flesh of her tapering snout and misting her cerulean eyes with a film of tears. It was her utmost goal at moment to find a body of water and take a much needed bath. 

The winter-dusted grasses did not immediately register as she breached the mini tundra, preoccupied as she was by her uncomfortable situation. 

Her gaze was fixated absently forward as she plodded along - a moist squelch accompanying each step - and it would not drift downwards until she drifted to a halt, vaguely noting that her paws had grown cold. 

Sluggishly, the muddy Sami's head tilted so that her watery eyes sought the ground. 

A tiny jerk tugged her body not unlike a marionette on strings, butterfly ears flying up in an oh! motion as her eyes widened a tic. 

The golden fae dropped her water-logged caribou pelt - which had been wrapped into a ball around her belongings and carried in her jaws as she navigated the marsh - with relief, straightening her bowed neck with a soft groan. Her bones popped as she shifted and stretched, taking a proper survey of her surroundings. 

The tundra almost reminded her of home - almost for it was still shades milder than Sapmi - a winterland of snow-dipped scrubgrass and cold winds. A hush presided over the vale, seemingly devoid of life. Yet, scents hid beneath the frost and tracks amongst the seared grass. A loose feather here, a cropped grazing patch there, the odd wallow or scat. 

The scent trails of prey beckoned but even more promising was the scent of freshwater. 

Reluctantly, Elve bent with a sigh and gathered her sodden pelt. With a great heave that quivered her thin muscles and ached her jaws, the cursed woman trekked determinedly onward in search of the source. 

Over-long ears scoped, tilting as they detected the burble of a shallow creek. 

Pausing only to place her caribou fur upon the bank, Elve plunged into the waters with a leap that was more doe than wolf as soon as the stream came into view. 

this seemed lonely! So I'm gonna pretend it takes place after she came this way <3

Kiwi would keep her word to stay away from Larksong Grotto, in the interest of upholding whatever tentative neutrality she and Dacio had.  She at least liked him better than his sister, who did absolutely nothing for her.  Definitely a bitch so far.

BUT anyway. She would keep her promise, but she definitely was going to check out the other surrounding areas just in case.  A few things she knew to look out for - prey, rival predators, and advantages.  The third could come in a number of different forms.

She didn't find much in any category on the plains, though it was promising for prey.  Too little cover for much of the others.  She'd spent a good portion of the morning searching and now heard the sound of the river with anticipation.  Running around scouting could work up a thirst.  Unaware that she had company here, Kiwi slipped down to the edge and began to gulp down the water.  She'd drink her fill and then hopefully move on, but she needed to be home before too late.

She plunged through the waters, cool liquid sloshing up and over to conceal her creamy form in its depths. Beneath the stream's surface, she twisted and turned, allowing the coating of mud to melt from her piebald pelt. 

With a strong kick against the stone-strewn bed, Elve surfaced with a soft gasp - blinking droplets of water from her cerulean eyes. 

It would have been hard to miss the mocha femme on the banks. Regardless, her heart leapt into her throat as her gaze locked upon jade orbs on the opposite bank. 

Elve paddled to the shore, treading water as she padded to the bank's edge - careful not to spray her newfound company as she shook the water from her freshly cleaned coat. 

At last, she turned to the woman with a bow of her buttery crown. "T'is woman greets you," she rasped welcomingly, feathery plume wagging faintly. 

Kiwi bristled when the strange woman burst from the water right in front of her, but she relaxed as soon as she noticed it wasn't something coming to threaten her.  Just another wolf.

With a very odd manner of greeting.  Hi, she replied back, though her gaze was still suspicious.  Who are you?  She was friendly, so there was no need to be rude... yet.

A second glance curls her tattered ears against her head in contrition, realizing she had startled the other in return. "I'm sorry if I fright-ed ya m'am," she apologized in her stange accent, offering a hesitant smile to ease the brunette's hackles. 

"T'is woman is called Elve," she answered with a small bow of her head, peering curiously at Kiwi from beneath her lashes as she straightened. "Mih' I ask fer yer name?"

Kiwi's eyes quickly narrowed at the stranger's first words, and her spine stiffened.  You didn't, she replied adamantly, though she certainly had.  It didn't suit her to admit to being caught by surprise, though.

My name's Kiwi. Back with the haughty demeanor.  I'm claiming a mountain a little ways from here.  Have a pack started.  She lifted her head proudly, then glanced down.  Where are you from? Certainly nothing so important as that.

The wolves of Sapmi did not lie - at least, not the women. In fact, they had become skilled at detecting falsehoods from reading body language, nuances in tone and facial expression. It was clear, to Elve at least, that the woman was lying about being frightened. The elf's head cocked curiously, wondering why someone might lie about such an unimportant thing, but she ignored it for politeness sake. 

"Oh, blessings to you and your Clan t'en," the Sami replied with a kind smile, tail wagging slightly. "Me? I'm from up north, Sapmi," she clarified, unperturbed by the woman's manner for she had never quite met a vain woman and didn't understand the passive-aggressive nature presented. 

She talked oddly, in a way that unrightfully set Kiwi's teeth on edge.  She felt as if she was being spoken down to, kindness coming across as coddling to her adolescent and easily irritated sensibilities.  

Then why aren't you there? She asked, and oh boy was she about to get hypocritical.  Unless you don't really do the whole 'loyalty' thing.

This logic didn't apply to herself though it should have.  She had been loyal; both packs she left had in part betrayed her by failing to recognize they were wasting her potential.

Though it has taken a moment, the empath can sense the shift - this is not a simple, friendly encounter as she had originally thought. Somewhere, somehow, she had offended this young woman with her foreign, exotic ways. 

She senses a bite in the words so she squares her shoulders, answers with brutal honesty. What does this girl know about Sapmi - about conformity for the sake of survival? 

"I guess t'at depends on your opinion of loyalty," she shrugged slightly. "I was loyal to ta man my fat'er married me to, even when 'e beat me. Even when I t'ought 'e would kill me. If only to protect my daughter."

"I am no longer t'ere because 'e wished to take 'is own child to wife and I spoke out, disobeyed 'im and my people - angered ta spirits and brought deat' upon my Clan." 

"T'ey cursed me in turn an' 'ere I am, speaking wit' you," she leveled an even stare with the girl, "w'at of you? Why did you leave 'ome?"

Kiwi's tail lashed once, twice, as she considered the answer.  It was a good one.  I think loyalty depends, and sometimes it's used by bad leaders as an excuse to blame someone else for their failure. She said plainly.  That's why I left.  They didn't deserve it.

Nomi at least.  Wildfire had, in part, but she'd stalled in the Firebirds.  And Kiwi had known she was going to be replaced.... her new siblings were true Firebirds, related to and loved by everyone.  She was better off making her own place.

And I think curses are an excuse too.  she added, frowning.  I'm not interested in it.  I'm making my own pack and my own luck by being better.  She stood a little straighter at that.  'Cursed' sounded like giving up rather than trying to improve.