Wapun Meadow i wish to remain nameless

for the last two weeks, she has traveled far and wide, familiarizing herself with the vast array of territories in this new land.  tonight, under the gaze of a waning moon, she finds that she has arrived in a meadow.  her lavender stare pivots to the stars above, and she exhales a grateful sigh.  there is comfort in the darkness of night.  the moon is familiar and welcoming, where the sun is foreboding and isolating.  the young priestess has yet to discover a place suitable for living, and she has grown thin during her travels.  

she settles down in a sitting position and allows herself a moment to breathe.  the scents that fill her nose are all those of strangers.  though this is certainly not a revelation, it is a reminder.  her eyes return to the sea of constellations above, and she draws their designs with her gaze -- a self-soothing technique taught to her since the first moments her eyes opened.  she cannot lose faith that the goddess remains with her, but even she can admit that her resolve falters.

Nothing. He'd come up with nothing. Bah!

For a moment in time, he'd thought he'd grasped the dark male's scent but it seemed to vanish into thin air inexplicably. He'd lost Mephistopheles before he could reunite with him, and that had the slender wolf-dog kicking around rocks in frustration as he walked past the mounts and into the valley. Every now and again he'd spot a pile of autumn leaves and jump on them just to hear them crunch under his paws. Yes yes yes, satisfying... A relieving of the smallest of tensions knotted beneath his pelt.

Oh well, he was in this land now. Life had always liked to throw him curve-balls in an attempt to jump him off-kilter. Well, life would have to try harder then! The needle-nosed canid would persevere if he had anything to say about it. He always found a way.

Now under the light of many glistening stars, his agouti body blended in with the darkened brush, only two wide blue eyes sticking out like a sore thumb from the void. He sensed the other before she seemed to sense him, watching her look up at the sky with much curiosity.

You looking for a stiff-bird?

His silly wordage for an airplane, though of course, he'd never know what it was actually called. Stiff and ugly birds that flew across the skies leaving fart-trails behind them, that was his best description of the phenomena.

lost in her thoughts and invocations, she misses the sounds of another's arrival.  it's their voice that anchors her back to earth, the sound pulling her head from the clouds by her ankles.  she blinks away the glazed-over look from her lavender eyes and discovers another wolf there.  this is an interesting looking character, too, it seems.  they've unfamiliar features and an interesting pattern about their fur.  at the mention of 'stiff birds,' too, her face portrays almost comical confusion.  is this some sort of local vernacular?  her gaze returns briefly to the night sky.  she searches and searches but ultimately is unable to locate anything that she feels could be called a 'stiff bird.'

"what is a 'stiff bird'?" she hopes for clarification, her head canting slightly to the side.  as far as she knows, this is a completely normal term -- just one she doesn't personally know.  nycteria is interested in learning just what exactly it is. "i was praying," the young acolyte shares unabashedly, a warmth still curled in her chest. "and mapping the stars; although... they are one and the same." the latter portion of her sentence is added somewhat distractedly, as though the thought had only occurred to her after the fact.

Oh you know- those shadows in the sky that don't flap their wings! They just... float. And sometime's they're loud. His attempt to explain was abysmal, but he really wasn't sure how else to describe it either. He definitely had hardly seen one out here as much as he had closer to human civilization. But whatever, his awkwardly placed ears perked curiously at the mention of her praying. And mapping the stars? One in the same... Did that mean she was praying to them?

Interesting! His bugged eyed floated up to the blanket of scattered dots above them. You pray to them? Aren't they just like... Far away lightning-bugs or something? He didn't really study the sky too much- aside from noticing "stiff birds" and perhaps some other anomalies here and there. But stars? He'd not pinned them down. To him they very well could be fireflies stuck in limbo in the sky. Kind of like bugs that would get trapped in those ceiling lights (of which he'd seen a fair amount during his youth in containment).

His gaze drifted back down to the she-wolf, softly tilting his head. How does one... Map the stars? And what does that have to do with praying?

two in their meadow. one sitting, one off to the side. the former doe-eyed and earthy, the latter made of domestic shapes and maddening blue eyes.

astara watched them warily from cover. measured their interactions, studied their posture — they appeared to be strangers to one another, which made her confident in her approach.

breaking from the shadowed brush that had concealed her, astara placed down the bloodied throat of a deer she held in her jaws. her gaze shifted back and forth between the duo, unapologetically — all conversations about stiffbirds and distant star-fireflies were disregarded. the real question was, what were they doing here?

nycteria tries to manifest an image in her head of what the stranger speaks of.  her gaze falls thoughtfully; it takes a moment, but it starts to make sense.  in the past, she's seen them above.  he isn't wrong.  they're very stiff and louder than anything she's ever heard before in her life.  an amused sound falls from her lips, and she looks up to meet her company's gaze. "i had never thought of this before, but i suppose they are stiff birds." if nothing else, she can't think of any better descriptor.  

"fireflies?  is that how you are taught to call them?" she wonders aloud with interest. "where i am from, we know them as souls who have gone to be with the goddess." nycteria is delighted to share her beliefs with someone else.  she doesn't even realize that another wolf has arrived.  in fact, she would have missed astara's arrival altogether if she hadn't set down the deer.  it's the noise that alerts the rogue.

"oh," a soft gasp falls from her mouth. "are these your hunting grounds?" her ears fall slightly.  it's the only explanation she can think of.

Souls huh? That did sound a lot prettier than what he'd been told. His mother was less lofty, more blunt with her explanations of things. Still he cocked his head with interest, curiously wanting to know more about her version of star lore. However her sudden gasp had his head whipping in the direction she'd been looking at. Pale blue eyes blinked as they tried to perceive an outlining of what appeared to be a black wolf in the darkness. It looked between them both, and Grendel didn't seem to get what was being wordlessly said. Why mention hunting grounds? This didn't smell a lot like pack lands, though admittedly he didn't pay the traces much heed.

Uhh, and who are you? Didn't they know how to use words, why just stand there ominously? Kinda creepy.

bearclaw valley's rounded shoulders lurked in the distance, a shawl of pale grey mist prowling their borders.

and here the two strangers stood, where the mouth of the bear spilled out --

neither seemed pleased by her presence. and who could blame them? she was a wretched thing to behold - dark, wicked -- cold amethyst vixen eyes.

are these your hunting grounds? astara's broad skull lifted, eyes attentive to the dove who spoke first. she blinked twice -- seemingly softly -- for the bears often ranged these meadows, and their scent was braided neatly into every fern and fen like water chugging over a river's throat.

the male with unsettling eyes was given a second glance over. astara had seen very few wolves of his kind before, and it was the peculiarity of his expression that enthralled her the most. unfortunately he would find little in the way of verbal answer, but astara did lumber forward carelessly over the discarded throat, nose glistening as she haled in him and took in his scent, in the fashion of their ancestors.

Now that the question had been posed, Nycteria realized her error.  The closer the stranger got, the more her understanding blossomed.  There was a scent etched in the ground all around them.  It wasn't as thick as the aroma of a pack's border or stretch of territory.  Perhaps this area didn't belong to this wolf, but she and others like her frequented it for whatever reason.  She spoke nothing of this and simply watched as the nameless wolf strode forward to acquaint herself with their shared companion.  To Nycteria, there was nothing odd with this gesture.  She merely blinked, waiting for the dark wolf to complete her task.

"I did not mean to offend," she spoke quietly still. "I am new to this land.  I do not yet know where I may place my paws.  Are you... with a pack?" the priestess hoped that would be a better approach with the huntress of so few words.

The dark wolf's careless approach had him stiffened, the whites of his eyes showing as he watched her sniff him in- like a dog, clearly speaking wariness. But he didn't move, only watched with slight curiosity and even hesitantly sniffed her himself with his needle-pointed nose. Yep, she stunk like a bunch of other wolves, definitely had more where she was from, but the fact that these were clearly their hunting grounds would remain blissfully lost on him.

Pale-bugged eyes glanced over toward the other woman who'd been speaking about stars. Maybe it was best he let her do the talking for now, while he nonchalantly debated whether he wanted to flee or not.

from each of their scents, astara learned a little about them. interlopers, loners -- wolves used to vagrancy.

she allowed them to inspect her in turn. when the ceremony was over the blackbird neatly sat upon her haunches several feet away on ursus' side -- silent, watchful as a sphynx. nycteria might find her query unanswered, but the answer lingered in the demonstration of astara's alignment with the distant stones of bearclaw.

two was one too many to chase off, but she would make it known they were dangerously close to the realm of the bear -- and the bear did not discriminate in whose blood was drawn.

she skulked along their periphery until the pair departed -- once she was sure their claim was safe, astara took the long way home to confuse any stragglers that might pursue.