Whitefish River Ole King's Blood

SETTING: Deep within Kaisteloki. PP permission for GB to enter territory given by Ira's player.
Weather: Sunny
cool
Midday
TERRITORY: Whitefish river

TAGS: @Ira for visibility, shes welcome to join! @Nutmeg @Wynter please!!! Greyback needs to meet his grandkids!

The man, worn down by the exhaustion from the days journey to the pack was given solace in the form of a quiet resting place within the shade of an elder fir. It's leaves were already so thin, zapped of their energy in the bitter wind, yet still having enough to give to the olden king. So there he sat, laid down with crossed paws on the earth, his amber eyes grew heavy within his age, gazing out between the glade and tree tops, surveying the home his daughter so wonderfully kept and built upon. 

If a wolf were to pass the grizzled behemoth perhaps they would notice the similarity he shared between his daughter, a likeliness that would speak of their kinship, and perhaps notice the lightly tussled fur, the scars marred deep within his recent trials and tribunes; Yet one would stand out—a darkened V plastered to his muzzle that outstretched to the bottom of his kind, tired eyes.

Wyn was always keeping herself busy with exploring and running around. She rarely sat still for some time. Even in her sleep she seemed to keep on running with endless amount of energy. The light grey girl rushed past the elder fir, some branches hanging from her mouth as she rushed past. Only when she spotted a big grey blob in the corner of her eyes she turned. She dropped the branches and then tipped her head.

She had never seen this wolf before. The girl was lighter in coloring than her mother but she had her eyes. Wynter marveled at the male's size. She mostly saw the females of this pack and they weren't even close to this size. Maybe it was an intruder! She braced herself and bared her puppy teeth. "Strangers are not allowed here!," she boldly growled, her growl only a chirp really.

It doesn't take long for company to arrive in the form of a young girl.

The elder flicks his ear at the sound of her arrival, watching with that same kind gaze as she places her wild toys beside to declare war. He's amazed by her fierceness, and with a humble laugh he shakes his head at her slowly before humming a deep gravel tone within his throat.

Perhaps she does not remember him, perhaps she was too young—the olden male would never forget the image of his grandchildren; Their tiny bodies burned within his mind vivid enough to span across lifetimes.

"Good thing I am not an intruder, mitt hjärta," he welcomes. "Do you not remember me, Primrose?"

Wynter's face was instantly conflicted when the intruder didn't look scared or caught. There was a soft rumble from his throat which she assumed was a laugh? She raised her hackles. She would keep her ground! She felt a bit bamboozled when he said that he wasn't an intruder. The girl didn't drop her stance though, because the intruder could be lying. But then-- he used her name, her old name actually. The girl defrosted and curiously looked at him. Her orange orbs really taking in the man but nothing came to her.

"No," she returned, but there was doubt in her voice. She did notice that his coloring was also grey, like her and her mother. "I'm not Primrose anymore. I changed it to Wynter," she added then. She stepped closer and sniffed him out. He didn't smell like the wolves here, so how come he wasn't an intruder. He looked far older than all the wolves she did know. Then she remembered grandpa was old. Her eyes lightened up. "Are you my grandpa?," she asked.