Firefly Glen [PHE] to the dreamers

He was drawn in by the sound and scent of a great company. How many days had it been since Simeon had brushed shoulders with others? Too many - and he felt the need rattling through his very core.

They strung together from many places, their smells speaking of mountain, meadow, and sea. Idly he wondered if he'd see anyone he knew here, but the chances seemed slim. Still, he couldn't help but keep one eye open, while the rest of him sought out the forest friendly face who could tell him what was happening here.

YOINK

At first, the patchwork of orange among shades of gray reminded him of Towhee, and he even thought it was his grandmother for the briefest moment. No, this was a young man, a yearling, with no pack affiliation to be found in his scent.

Killdeer approached with a welcoming smile and a wag of his tail. The existing powers had been summoned, but loners surely were welcome should they participate and play nice, right?

Hey, there, he said warmly. I'm Killdeer, of Moonspear. Welcome to the Great Hunt—did you come alone or with anybody else?

:D HULLO

He was met with honeyed eyes and a face that nagged with a strange familiarity. Simeon had met many wolves since leaving the Wilds, and he was bound to meet some who carried the subtle tics of others, but this one... this one felt closer to home. Gramma Towhee, in the wash of black and red - but of course, there were many wolves who shared like colours, and of course, this wasn't her.

You wouldn't see it if you weren't looking.

A pang filled his heart and touched his eyes at his memory of her, but a smile filled the rest of his face. Hey, thanks! he said, I'm Simeon, with no one yet. Maybe that would change with time. Winter was coming, after all, but he still had some time to figure that out. The Great Hunt? I was wondering what all this was! That's awesome, and he glanced to where the greater scents swelled, unable to parce out the sheer number of those who'd gathered, how many packs are here?

Even though he'd seen much since living on the Isle, such strong displays of camaraderie between the inland wolves still surprised him, but in the best of ways.

Nice to meet you, Killer replied. I'm not sure, but maybe ten or so? You're more than welcome to come hang around the Moonspear camp if you want —and I'm sure we can find a place for you on the mountain afterwards, too.

The young man was oddly familiar. He squinted a bit, trying to place the resemblance. But that only lasted for a second before he gave it up, not wanting to make things awkward.

Are you from around here, or just traveling through? he continued. Perhaps that line of inquiry could clear things up a bit.

Ten! I didn't know there were that many packs in all of Teekon! Would Sweetharbor have been invited if their poack had remained? The Isle may have been isolated, but Aunt Towhee had visited them enough that surely, she would have made their presence there known. And she had lived in one of these packs, hadn't she? In fact, now that Killdeer mentioned it -

I think I've heard of Moonspear before, he said thoughtfully, or, moon-something, at least. And not only from Towhee. Hadn't Raindrop been from a similar place? That's a generous offer! especially for a stranger like him, but who was he to pass on such an open opportunity? I'd be down to help with any hunts you have left. Would be a good way to make some friends here. Time would tell if he would join them beyond that or not.

Well, I grew up with my family on the coast, but I haven't lived here for a while now. My family's all a drift, but eh - Redhawk ring a bell?

Well, it seems like that many, anyway, Killdeer said with a chuckle. The glen teemed with so much life, it was hard to imagine any number smaller (unless all of these packs' ranks were practically overflowing, which he knew wasn't the case for at least Moonspear).

He was enjoying the boy's willingness to help out and was about to lead him toward his group's camp when he was stopped short by one singular word.

"Ring a bell?" Did it ever!

You're talking to half of one right here, Killer remarked, face suffused with curiosity. No wonder Simeon looked so oddly familiar! My mom's a Redhawk. Who are your parents? he asked, trying to comb through his mental list of piblings and niblings and cousins as he awaited a response.

He'd expected recognition, but relation? No way! he said with a laugh, and he stood a little taller, excitement and curiosity sparkling in his sea green eyes. I thought you looked fanikiar! Not knowing he echoed Killdeer's thoughts.

My mum's Heda, but I'm a Redhawk through my dad. Caracal.

Though his name stung less, a throbbing pain resurfaced with his name and the hazy memories he still associated with him. Would he even reckognize his dad if he'd had the chance to see him again? Simeon thought of him every day, but he found Caracal's face was smudged with Dee's and his own more and more.

What about you? You look a lot like my gramma Towhee - and wait - was she his gramma, too? Or wait wait wait - was she your mom?!

It seemed as if his ears lost the ability to hear after the name 'Caracal.'

No shit, Killdeer breathed, his interest piqued a thousand percent. He looked the boy over, searching for his blood-brother in the sum of Simeon's parts. The good humor—that must be Cal's. The gleam in his eyes, too, and the easy smile. The ruddy parts to his pelt that marked so many Redhawks.

He shook himself, coming back to reality once more. Ah, no, she's my Gramma, too, he explained, looking sheepish for having spaced off a bit. So that makes us cousins. Cal—your dad—we were pretty close in age, so he felt more like a cousin than my uncle. Even more like my brother, really.

Killer laughed on an exhale, the sound filled with delight and shock. I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you, he said fervently. And I'm so, so sorry about your dad. I lost mine last year, too. It gets easier. . .but it still really sucks.