The Heartwood Can't Tell me There's No Point In Trying

Dreven had brought @Dangoth into the fold. He had shown him where to sleep, and then he had moved further into the pack lands. Though he had returned to keep a weather eye on their new guest. After all Malacath and Khasni had yet to meet him, and as promised he would need to pass muster with those two or Drev would make him rue the day.

As the Morning sun began to rise, it bathed the brown blunt beast in it's breathing light. Curling around him. Dipping across his scars and lighting up the normally shadowed areas. It was a good day to kill or accept another.

So with very little trepidation, he lifted his head, nose pointed to the sky and howled out to @Alduin. It was time to meet the newest recruit, and he hoped they'd like him. Because if they did it would show good judgement from him. If they didn't it could go poorly for Dreven.

Assuming Dangoth is already present — feel free to tell me to change it if he is not and I’ll edit this post. <3

Alduin, ever unaware that there was a new wolf in their lands, goes about his day like any other. Marking territory and patrolling the borders, but besides that, he had found  solice in the great forest beyond the cave. He does not find himself there today though, no, rather he hears Dreven’s howl while he wades through the mossy river in the Sinkhole — the swamp covering a section of their crispy homeland. The Heartwood, where life ever so slowly begins to sprout once more.

But death still lingers and it is not only in the shape of licking flames that left nothing but charred skeletons of logs and soot. No, no, no, death also walks on four legs, coat ashen and charcoal much like The Heartwood itself. 

The hellhound. The Revenant. The Reaper.

Alduin.

Short, torn auds swivel at the rasping howl and he steps heavy, sodden paws from the river he wades through. Making his way over black ash covered ground pinpricked with subtle signs of life. But what little their is is crushed beneath a heavy, clawed foot as he trots in the direction his Harbinger calls from.

Only a few minutes later does the Revenant himself appear. Lumbering forth to slow his trot into a languid, almost lazily paced saunter. Immediately, bloody orbs find Dreven. His greeting to him is a slight cock of a single circular brow and a downwards nod of his head. 

That is until he sees the man beside him. 

Crimson eyes meet the other’s bright blue first — a clashing of fire and ice — such a interesting color paired with a silvery scarred pelt. Though his perpetually emotionless visage stays as such, his brows pinch with muted interest. He even dares to lift his head, where he usually keeps it level with a straight back.

“And who have you brought to me, Dreven?” He wonders aloud, tone tipping just a pinch higher to display his curiosity.

Dreven was aware that his leader would be marking territory. Or he would be in the little haven that he had carved out for himself beyond the waters of darkness. He hated it there, but he would visit if he had a need. The space itself not so bad, but the underground layer to it. He didn't like that.

Dreven's eyes lowered at the movement of his leader beast. Enjoying for a moment the languid way he moves, but now is not the time for such thoughts and he focuses on the dark wolf beside him.

He was at our borders. Wondering at the life beyond. I have allowed him entry with. Conditions.

Beyond that he would let the wolf answer any questions. Tell him his name and the like.