Wapun Meadow i heard a call in my sleep again

@Praimfaya

The sea of grass continued, but Renard was growing fonder of it. Their nose and ears were already better than their eyes; they kept their muzzle down as the meadow turned bright with wildflowers in every color, yellows and oranges and reds and pinks. Didn't blend at all with their fur, but it was tall enough and nice to walk in the sun. A change of pace from shadowy forests and northern ice, even with the grass continually tickling their nose. They'd given up on trying to muffle all the sneezing.

Their mind wandered only because there was nothing else for it to do. Still on them, not concentrating properly -- their old teacher would have hated that, Renard would have gotten one hell of a talking to after they'd been knocked flat on their back, never let your guard down and all that. But the meadow was filled with birdsong and smelled only of flowers and the trails of every animal out enjoying the weather, even though the memory had them pausing, looking furtively from side to side.

Nothing but grass, of course. The distant call of something that sounded like a pronghorn. Renard laughed a little -- of course he wasn't around, it was silly but old habits just didn't shake that easy -- and kept going. No point in not enjoying it as well.

the wapun meadow was a bright shock of color: candy apple red, jade green, sunflower yellow, blood orange, pale candyfloss blue, taffy pink and clean linen white as the flowers of meadow all swayed in the gentle, if not muggy breeze that was carried thru the territory. praimfaya admires it from an artisans view though her artistic medium had been with blood and death. barbaric, she's been told and knows but it is their way. jus drein jus daun. blood must have blood. it was hard to shake what is the core of her life, the center of how blodreina chose to raise her.

still, trying to find pri hiding somewhere deep within the armor of the commander of death was proving to be far from easy.

praimfaya enjoys the colors, the fragrant floral perfume that hangs in the air: not heavy thanks to the warm breeze. pollen smudges along her legs as she pirouettes thru the flowers, trying ( and not entirely succeeding ) not to trample them. okay, she amends as she peers behind herself as drooping stems and crushed petals ...trying not to crush so many. still, it is hard. if there were clearer paths thru the meadow taken by herding animals or other predators they were left to be retaken by the wilds.

frostbound gaze examines a honeybee as it buzzes dutifully past her snout to land in a flower to her left. she lets out a small snort and keeps walking, steps faltering only at the sight of a figure up ahead. the berkana studies the figure from afar for a few moments before letting out a chuff to, hopefully, garner their attention.

They did not move as slowly as they should. Kept walking, and eventually the heat of the sun and the drone of bees completely drained any desire to pay attention. The grass and wildflowers had not thinned since they stumbled through, and Renard unfolded themselves from their crouch. Angled their head up over the flowers. Yes, it was all very pretty, just lacking in a decent vantage point. Though when you had no exact goal, forward was as good as anything, no matter how much grass there was to contend with.

But there were mountains to the left, and at least that was some sort of --

A chuff behind them. They startled a little and turned, ears slid forward, but announcing your presence was the polite thing to do. As opposed to other ways. They let the tenseness go quickly enough.

"Hello." Renard considered her for a moment, for all the good that would do them. They still stood a distance apart, but not enough to have to yell, and not everyone was comfortable so close as Renard usually made themselves. "Renard. Are you from around here?" Perhaps it was worth an attempt at some sort of information; they didn't know much about where they were beyond its apparently endless seas of grass.

praimfaya thinks she's scared him ...given the small start she watches him make and her ears slick back to rest at half mast against her skull in sheepish apology as she draws nearer; steps ghosting with ingrained caution but an easy sociability. praimfaya always did enjoy meeting new wolves and socializing beyond her close circle. he doesn't chase her off, she notes, instead greeting her with a simple 'hello'. hello, she parrots back, relieved that trigedasleng hadn't slipped out as it was wont to do. the more time she spent in the wilds, the easier it was to remember defer to common.

praimfaya, she offers her own name in return. not this area specifically, no, but from these wilds, yes. i'm well traveled though — not spoken as a boast but rather matter-of-fact. — were you looking for some place specific? she inquires.

Her greeting came in turn, accompanied by ears half-back in apology. Renard appreciated the gesture. Not enough to be completely comfortable, because if the wolfdog was inclined to that (which they had, decidedly, not been so far, there was always something jumping out of the bushes whether they were paying attention or not) it would not be in what might as well be a completely new world. But close enough.

"Good to meet you." Politeness cost nothing, after all. It was nice to have a conversation partner that didn't leap straight to huffy intimidation, though they were becoming fewer and farther in between. Thankfully. "Nothing specific," Renard said, tail loosening a little from the tight curl over their back. "I'm new here. Just looking for an idea of...places to avoid, places not to avoid. That sort of thing." Technically things they could sort out on their own, given the time, but, well. Renard was not so independent that they needed to do everything themselves, and she seemed amiable enough to talk. She surely knew more about things than they, things that might save them from adding another scar to the collection. Always a plus.

likewise, praimfaya offers with an amiable sway of her tail. she offers renard her rapt attention as they respond to her inquiry, considering and realizing that despite being 'well traveled' she doesn't know too much about the packs that inhabit the wilds. aside from moonspear, nightwalkers and sagtannet, that was. the information she held, too, was likely old. still, it seemed in good form to warn renard all the same. i haven't heard of too many packs that should be 'avoid at all costs'. i know there had been a few cannibals on the loose and two wolves that should definitely be avoided. they attacked one of my ex-packmates. but, praimfaya realizes, she doesn't have many details to offer which sort of made the information moot.

i have to admit i've lost track of them. honesty, to her, was always the best policy even if it didn't paint her in the best of lights. it was hard to think of herself as anything other than what she was: was there even such a thing as a 'good light' for the commander of death?

if you're looking for a home i would have to advocate my own home, sagtannet. she motions in the direction of sawtooth spire with her muzzle. it's small but strong. though she offers the information — recruit mode clearly hadn't gone anywhere — her tone makes it clear that she wasn't intending to push. if he declined, then that would be that and she'd let it drop.

Renard wasn't currently discerning when it came to new information. Any word was more than they had known previously and asking for particulars was only of so much help; it was more than likely if they came upon a cannibal (not that they carried too much judgment of the practice in theory -- you did what you needed to survive -- beyond everyone who indulged being so proudly and profoundly unhinged) or someone searching for a fight, they would only notice identifying marks when they were too close to be much of a warning.

In the latter case, anyways, Renard would be happy to oblige.

"I should thank you regardless. Anything is an improvement on what I know." They cracked a smile. "I'll keep an eye out for cannibals, then."

Anything was an improvement. That was true. But her following words held more promise.

"Sagtannet." Renard let the name hang for a moment, though it meant nothing to them. "You say it's strong. That's a bold claim to make." The wolfdog slanted their head to the side. "Something you're willing to prove?"

i imagine death by cannibal isn't a pleasant way to go. she says it lightly, perhaps jokingly ...but there is cemented belief behind her words that give them conviction. it was probably bad taste to view cannibals in any sort of jesting light or the wolves that had attacked osiris. that was a poor joke. she admits apologetically. i'm not sure if i'd ever came in contact with any of them aforementioned, she had but had been lucky enough to avoid the sting of their teeth. but my previous pack was adamant about warning us about them all the same. and the heads up felt like something that was any newcomer's right to know.

praimfaya offers a small smile as renard appears to take some interest in sagtannet and the tidbit she offers him. admittedly, her own joining had been more of a reunion and though she tried to gleam what she could out of mahler — anything that would be useful as border or recruitment knowledge — the thing was they didn't have much history yet. which meant it had a lot of promise for the future without being too overwhelming. i stand by it. praimfaya says with firm conviction. absolutely. she agrees, always up for a challenge.

"Well, you would be dead by the time they started eating you." Matching lightness for lightness, but they didn't mind such a joke. "If they were smart." And again, unhinged was the kindest word Renard could think, but surely just to stop any potential for having your throat removed mid-meal.

Anyways. The details about who was and wasn't a cannibal and how polite or impolite they might be about their, ah, habits -- they would deal with those when they started trying to eat them. In the meantime --

"Good." Renard swept their muzzle forward. "Are you a fighter of theirs? You look the type." Maybe just with the claw marks. But the wolfdog had rarely run into anyone who wasn't some sort of proficient...or didn't claim to be some sort of proficient.

"Spar with me." They had never been one to dance around the subject. "I like to know that I'm giving my loyalty to those with the means to use it."

i am. praimfaya confirms though it seems to her as if renard didn't actually need her verbal confirmation. inwardly, she does not miss how quickly confirming renard's suspicions leaves her feeling included; for while she was a subordinate of sagtannet she knew she was stuck in her ways of always thinking of herself as otherthan. it was a bad habit that she knows if she does not break will only cause her further pain and the wolves around her upset. a commander shouldn't be fleet of foot at least in the case of loyalties. especially in the case of loyalties.

fair enough. praimfaya agrees to the spar and readies herself by dropping into a neutral position that can quickly be changed to defensive or offensive ...depending on who moved first. though since the spar is renard's idea she thinks it should be their move first.

not entirely sure how you want to do this and i am just too new to know much, but whatever is fine with me 8)

At one time, Renard thought of combat only through the lens of winning or losing, in friendly tussles with siblings and actual fights with loners alike. Now they thought of it more as a curiosity than anything, and so it was with no real burning desire to come out the victor that they mirrored Praimfaya’s position, surrounded on all sides with tall tufts of wildflower and grass; a curious choice of combat arena.

For an extended moment they simply stood apart from each other, and it had to be said Renard was more used to quiet ambush than planned one-on-one combat, though one had to change with the times and it was not a technique they had the wherewithal to use much any longer. They weren’t stalking through the woods as part of a lesson, not winding their way after an unwelcome intruder; they’d left that behind, it seemed, along with the North. It might be to their advantage to wait, and see how she favored to begin – it might be to their advantage to strike out first, to get a feel for how she would respond to a strike.

It seemed likely they would have equal luck with either, considering those preestablished credentials, and in the end Renard simply went for the most obvious target, her left shoulder, bearing four scars still vivid among the white and grey fur.

It might not have been the fairest choice, but considering their history of conducting any attack with as much advantage as possible, Renard thought nothing of it.

i'm not picky tbh! i'm perfectly fine with just doing a simple roll to determine a victor and have them sort of back and forth for a couple posts. i did a simple hit/miss roll here for renard's attack to determine whether she avoided it or not. you are free to pp pri as needed!

frostbound gaze watches as renard mirrors her 'ready-aim-fire' position. her tail sways against her hocks: once, twice, three times with unbridled excitement that races down her spine and spreads into her taunt limbs. there was always that familiar rush at the thrill of the fight that she got every time she sparred ...every time she fought. it would be so easy to get lost in that high. she watches renard's movements as they advance; and feels her muscles pull taunt as she aims to pirouette out of renard's grasping jaws as they aim for her scarred shoulder. she feels the sting of teeth splicing flesh and lets out a low snarl, countering as quickly as adrenaline and instinct would let her with the aim of her own teeth at his own shoulder in retaliation.

sounds good to me! gave a roll in the same thread for praimfaya's attack :) and likewise!

Renard felt more than saw her spin out of the way – an instinctual thing more than a thought, and there was no time to consider that because they were twisting after her, jaws still open until they had reached far enough that their teeth snagged against her skin, raking shallow wounds over the faded scars.

There was no time for anything more than to react; marks left, Renard pulled away, drew back just in time for Praimfaya’s own teeth to miss their shoulder by the barest fraction of an inch, close enough that they could still feel as they slid by.

She was fast, and they had forgotten the fun of a spar, advantage or not. Renard curled back to where he had stood as a snake might pull away after its strike and, laughing with all the rush of adrenaline, came forth again, jaws this time aimed for her scruff.

would this have been anything other than what it was — a friendly spar to prove that there was strength to sagtannet, that the wolves of sawtooth spire were worth his time and energy ...even if it meant she come out of it the loser — she might've been fretting. her attack largely misses, though her teeth just barely scrapes fur and flesh. praimfaya takes advantage of the moment, however, brief to catch her breath, to analyze her next attack as he laughs and lunges for her scruff. this attack, too, hits it's mark as she means to pirouette out of his way and aim a counter but is too slow to react. she is glad that she had more luck during her conclave fights ...and tries not to scold herself too bad for how she's failing. his teeth latch onto her scruff and she snaps her teeth at him, trying to dislodge his grip on her.

rolled a hit for praimfaya and a 4 in the victory roll in your thread!

She clearly knew what she was doing, even if Renard had been just fast enough to avoid the first strike and the second they thought it her teeth came down on them, splitting the skin down the side of their neck and shoulder in a sharp line.

Around the roll of scruff in their teeth Renard gave a laughing growl, more a play thing – it was a spar, was it not, it would heal and – their teeth tightened a little, and Praimfaya’s came back down on them, dragging again into their shoulder. The growl came out again, louder this time; they let her go, didn’t move back quite as far as they had, just in time to avoid a third strike to the shoulder which was already beginning to sting.

Anything other than a friendly fight and they’d probably be running their mouth by now – only worked with someone you could push and even if they knew that was the case escalating was not on the menu. Renard thought she’d probably grind them into the dust in that case so instead they coiled up where they were and came at her, with the aim of using the weight they had despite their small size to do their best to knock her off balance.

though praimfaya finds the spar invigorating it does not last long as renard rapidly gains the upper hand and defends the position well. she tries to pirouette out of renard's way but the force of impact, clipping her at the junction between shoulder and ribcage midmotion unbalances her and she topples to the dusty ground underfoot; crushing flowers that release more pungent floral perfume as it melds with her light pelage. she lands with a rough grunt; unceremoniously and lets out an unladylike curse in trigedasleng. she lets out a breathless laugh then and accepts her defeat without fuss. ok, ok. you win. i know when to admit defeat. failure was only a lesson in disguise, after all. she would use it as a tool to work on what shortcomings of her's renard has exploited here and today. she was still young, after all.

good spar. she pushes herself to her paws and shakes her coat free of smushed flower petals and other debris. i only hope i didn't put my kru to shame with how quickly you bested me. she says, partially teasing, though as she says it the worry starts to nag at her nonetheless.

Renard kept their head lifted until the last moment, enough to see the way she twisted to avoid them; enough to redirect so that, instead of soaring past, they caught her between shoulder and ribcage, and she toppled to the ground.

In absence of an actual hand to help her up, Renard stepped back as she got to her paws, shaking dirt and flowers over all the grass they’d trampled, and grinned. “Good spar,” they echoed. “Thank you.”

“Kru?” As foreign a word as Sagtannet, but Renard could at least guess at this one. Family or pack or people – but they would wait for her response, should she have one, before continuing. "No." A light laugh of their own. "I think my shoulder’s proof of that.” They’d won the spar, but that was only half of the purpose. And the advantage of moving first. There was nothing like fighting to get to know someone, and it was important to know the people you were (potentially) living with.

“You said Sagtannet was at the end of this range?” The mountain she had pointed out earlier built on one end to a long chain of snow-capped points, even with the late spring heat beating down; the other sloped down until it vanished among the treeline. “I’d like to get myself a little more…familiar with this place first. If all goes well, perhaps I’ll see you there.” Their half smile was amused. “Hopefully there won’t be any cannibals on the way.”

thank you as well. praimfaya says with a grin that lights up her face, tail swaying amiably against her hocks. i forgot how much fun a good spar can be. even short lived as some of them were. kru means clan, people. sometimes my native tongue slips without me knowing. she says with a small, sheepish laugh. good. i wouldn't want to return to my leaders and tell them i shamed them. a jest, sort of. mahler seems a bit stoic to praimfaya and wylla? well, praimfaya's never met the woman — and other leader — yet.

yes, praimfaya reiterates with a nod of her head, gesturing to the peak of sawtooth which is visible in the distance as it reaches ever skyward with her muzzle. it should be easy to find us, if you decide to. i think there is only one other pack on the mountains and they rest in the vale below. she had caught their scent upon her exploration of the sunspire but hadn't went further to investigate. maybe once she earned her warrior mastery she would try to return focus to her scouting roots.

i understand, she assures them. may our paths cross again, renard, regardless of what you decide. she offers another smile. eh, i wouldn't worry too much. you can clearly take care of yourself. praimfaya says with confidence meant to be reassuring.

and renard's exit :) thank you for the thread!

Renard settled back as she explained. They were familiar with a handful of languages beyond the two they spoke – nothing but the basics, whatever was necessary – yet this one was still alien. Something more to learn when they arrived, even if languages were hardly their favorite topic.

They followed her gesture to the mountain. A very simple mark to follow, at the least, so the wolfdog tipped their head down and then offered an amused smile at her next words. “Yes, I would hope so, or it would be embarrassing for both of us, I think." They chuckled. "Either way, it was a pleasure meeting – and sparring – with you.”

With the possibility of a pack and a little more information about where it was, exactly, that they had arrived, Renard gave a nod and then, turning, vanished amongst the wildflowers. There was plenty of meadow yet to cross.