Raven's Watch they send us in to find it

though a mountain looms ever stalwart and imposing between them, rusalka keeps a stony eye upon the packs closest to raventhorpe: for no other reason than it was in his nature. it wasn't personal and though there were rough hewn edges that father and husbandhood has smoothed down, there were others that it had only sharpened.

windswept and sloven, rusalka lingers along the precarious peaks of the ravens watch as the morning wanes to an overcast afternoon; weathered eye upon the willows and the unfamiliar scents that gather and linger there.

a watcher on the wall.

Mae, too, kept a watchful eye on the willows and all that went on around the territory. She'd taken to patrolling the surrounding areas, mostly on the lookout for other predators. There weren't many wolves out here, she'd noticed. That was just fine by her.

But this man, he was watching them. Mae spotted him from a distance and ascended in pursuit. When she was within earshot she chuffed to announce herself, posture guarded but not hostile. Maybe he was just curious. Or maybe she would need to chase him off.

She wondered if it was terrible of her to hope, faintly, for the latter.

Down below the wall, she treaded steep stone.

Many of times this day, she had tried to rationalize herself. Her feet were steadily trotting forward, head low and ears back in a distinct wonder about everything. Still, in that wonder was certain uncertainty. Big, growling trees had been afloat, and things with pointy fur. She thought, however, that they were wondrous things with wondrous feelings.

Her ear twitched down. Fixated on shifting grass and stone. Stomach. It ached, and twisted. With a sharp, slow exhale, she silenced it. So focused. So fixated. "Oh, no. Oh," she stuttered, looking down and tensing.

It took until now for her to realize just how high she had climbed. It was not that she did not know mountains.

But she did not know this one.

She would have to learn. Today.

the watcher becomes the watched.

in all fairness, one could theoretically remind him that raventhorpe were new to the area, too and their claim upon the plateau was young despite that they were a pack relocated. renamed. reinvented.

but it would not be enough.

he is guarded and curious, because he has children ... and with any favor more children come spring.

the chuff draws his golden gaze to the shadowed sylph that makes her presence known, smelling of the scents that hung below —

and then it is drawn, with a quick snap, to the cream and blonde colored woman and her oh no's.

though a grumble builds in the cavern of his chest, it is exchanged in favor of a rasping, whiskey steeped in smoke hello, offered to the two women. i am rusalka cairn, of raventhorpe. a gesture of his muzzle in the plateau's direction.

Mae didn't expect to abruptly find herself outnumbered. She bristled faintly at the blonde woman's arrival, but quickly calmed herself in favor of keeping her eyes on the man. He was more of a threat; stoic, collected, not falling all over himself like the woman. And it was clear they didn't know one another.

Rusalka Cairn of Raventhorpe. She tucked this information away with a mental note to relay it to the mated pair of Hearthwood. Mae, She introduced herself, then added: Of Hearthwood. But you might already know that.

How long had he been watching them?

Raventhorpe nearby? She asked, sparing only a glance for the woman.

I totally missed this, im sorry for the holdup! Saga out
She was sporadic in movement, slipping unevenly over stone paths and steep drops. Strangers, they spoke. Raventhorpe. Hearthwood.

That distraction of voice had been the cause of her sudden fall down, with big wide eyes and a shaky lip! What a ride she was in for.

for a moment, rusalka is briefly distracted from the question sent his way by the blonde woman who slips and disappears from sight. a glimpse is sent towards the ebony cloaked woman before he moves towards where she'd been, peering to find that she was moving in another direction with no apparent interest in speaking to either of them.

a small hmm accents the furrow of his brow and tick of his ear before he turns back to the woman who called herself mae. the name heartwood brings with it no recognition and he is left to assume that is what the land below is called where scents gather.

we claim the plateau to the south. he gestures with his muzzle; a brief and soldier sharp movement. with a whole mountain between us, it is not close. he is not a leader and thus has no right to be trying to make connections; hence why he did not approach.

still, i like to know where our nearest neighbors claim so that we may avoid your hunting grounds and patrol routes.

Mae relaxed slightly as the woman departed, now able to devote her full focus to the conversation at hand. The plateau to the south, with the mountains separating them; it sounded like a safe enough distance to Mae. Sure, She agreed, her tone betraying nothing.

I'll let 'em know, Mae said next, glancing toward the willows again. She wasn't exactly a leader herself. Her gaze moved back to Rusalka. Shouldn't be any trouble. Maybe they'll visit or somethin', the leaders. I dunno, above my paygrade. Any other packs around here I should know about, though?

she ... suggests offering a visit, though it is not a concrete thing. admittedly, rusalka can offer about the same. he does not lead beside his valkyrie queen and has no real standing other than a solid promise that he will inform her of the going-on's nearby.

a foundling pack was something that warranted such a conversation. what solveig chose to do with it was strictly up to her.

there is a pack that claims the vale, epoch. they are, likely, your closest neighbors. perhaps she already knew of them, or perhaps her leaders did. still, rusalka thought it prudent to point out, just in case, though he spoke only for ravensthorpe.

Epoch. Mae nodded, grateful for the information. Thanks, She said, then glanced past him toward where she assumed Raventhorpe was. So what's Raventhorpe all about, anyway?

Hopefully not another one big happy family type pack. She might just vomit if that was the case. But by the name, Mae suspected it was something different entirely; something much cooler than Hearthwood.

she asks about raventhorpe, naturally, rusalka thinks. again, he is faced with the strange inability to feel like he can speak freely for it. a minor hiccup that he quickly aims to shuffle to the side in the interest of answering her question.

raventhorpe values trades. learning at least one is highly encouraged and each of them have their own role to play in our hierarchy. he offers. though my queen wife would say we are generally friendly towards strangers, that depends largely upon who greets said stranger at the borders. though father and husbandhood had helped to soften some of the rough sea weathered edges of rusalka cairn, he remains territorial.

protective.

defensive.

perhaps even more so when his children are thrown into the mix.