Seaside Moors firewater

The downpour had continued, and the young pup had grown rather bored of the events. She had prowled around the den site until she had uncovered a toy that had been intended for them: a chunk of antler from a fallen deer. Regin glanced over her shoulder before uncovering the item and carrying it out of the den with her. When the young siren had found a peaceful place beneath a small overhang, she rested on her belly and gripped the chew toy in her paws.
 
A few feigned nips started her assault and then Gin began to gnaw viciously on the tip of the antler, reveling in the flavors that it had. After several minutes, she had chewed away the initial layer of the item and was working on the pale bony underneath. She stuffed it into the crook of her cheeks and bit down with the strength of her jaw, but the antler did not give. With a sour expression, Gin pulled back and stared down her toy.

She spent a lot of time alone, and often in and out, around the territory gathering herbs. There was a tree she took a particular liking too, while digging a small 'tunnel' for her herb storage. What she definitely kept in there as well as a variety of spiders, Grímnismál made sure to go around and find quite a few before seperating them around the den. Once in a while she would collect their webbings and pile them together- in any case someone was bleeding.

Though it seemed some of her spiders had disappeared. The reaper, now carrying some amongst her tail, was walking back to the moor, and passed by a den. Curiously so, a small one that looked similar to Raleska just a bit, was around the area. Ruby-eyes stared at the pup for a second, not connecting dots.

Thank you for joining!

While gnawing on the edges of her toy, Gin’s attention was pulled toward the shape of an unknown figure. The foreign scents on this wolf’s pelt were much too stale for them to have been a wanderer, this much was easy for even the child to tell. It was likely that this wolf was a new member to their ranks. The unknown adult did not appear to want to speak to the child, so Regin kept her sharp whiskey gaze locked on them and continued to chew and tear away at the sharp edge of the deer antler.

not gonna lie, i forgot she did not have a tail

She wasn't sure how to interact with pups. Grímnismál did not have friends at the isle, and was usually seperated from them all with her mother, the witch. Even if she did, the other adults would keep them away from herself, and especially their children as she grew. However she was also a yearling, and only a pup months ago.

There was hesitation, but the reaper also wanted to meet others a bit. She stood a bit back, and sat down. She somewhat forgot without a tail, the spiders simply wandered around her pelt. It was probably a strange appearence with little black critters scurrying across her pelt, and she could not keep them at bay.

"Hello?"

It was not until the multi-colored she-wolf had drawn closer that Regin noted the dark spots along her frame that seemed to scurry under the touch of the light. The spiderwebs that decorated her haunches seemed to have been the culprit for such an intrusion, but the pup couldn’t figure out why this wolf was willingly participating in such an activity. When the stranger spoke, the young siren ceased her gnawing on the antler and lifted her crown upward.
 
“Who’r you?”
 
Regin wasn’t exactly polite with her tone or the question itself. She blinked a few more times at the spiders that were working webbing into the hairs of the she-wolf’s pelt. The pup still did not understand what purpose it served, but she was interested to find out. Leaving her antler on the ground, she rose and stepped a few paces closer to the other wolf. “You got spiders,” she stated with a guarded glance.

"I'm Grímnismál," though there was a momental frown thinking her name perhaps could be difficult, "Grim' is fine." Especially so finding out some in this pack had ties with her name. It was a bit of a shocker that it once was a pervious pack-name, but it seemed it existed before she was born- hopefully so. There was a hope to the reaper that no one would hold it against her.

"Oh yes," her paw swiped away a spider that crawled too close to her face, and led it wander to her back, "i'm herding them for cobwebs." It was easier to simply keep a mess of them in a howl, or a tree then to gather around a bunch of spiderwebs. It was a simple practice. Thankfully none of these spiders were the deadly ones, she tried to make sure which to keep an eye on.

The woman introduced herself with a peculiar sounding name, something that stirred the young girl in the pit of her stomach. She preferred the shortened version that was offered shortly after. Then, the siren figured that it was best if she offered her own name, so her mothers weren’t told what a rude child she was later on. “I’m Regin,” she said and then after a second of thought, “but Gin is fine.”
 
“Don’t they bite you?” the young girl then asked, taking a step closer to squint at the crawling arachnids that were moving around on her dark coat. Regin herself had been bitten more than once by one of the spiders that had crawled through their den in the middle of the night. It had swollen and left an itch for several days.

"You have to find specific breeds, these are long-legs. They're tall, but friendly." She occasionally got bitten, especially with the wrong types. However she made clear to stay away from the poisonous ones, and her mother made sure to never have her mess with them. To tell between was the most important factor to spider herding.

"Their webs are useful for bloody wounds."

The comment about different breeds did not register well enough with the young pup. She peered at the peculiar older wolf with a scrutinous narrowing of her eyes, but she didn’t comment on it. It did seem as though the lady Grim had a better handle on spider taming than Regin ever could or would want to. She did think that it was a curious hobby, though. It was certainly not something that she expected her mothers would be doing in their free time.
 
“How’s it do that?” Gin inquired openly. She didn’t know that spiderwebs were such useful things. The young siren had imagined that they really only served a purpose for the spiders that made homes of them. Then again, she was a tad biased. The young girl had stepped in many of them and had not been pleased with how quick they were to cling to her coat.

"They're thin right?" A single spider web is fragile substance. A single swipe ruins the whole effort a spider may give, however looking into a den of spider webs, its a mountianous of white and webs, "but together they can form a small blanket. It'll help absorb blood- which is why I need quite a lot of spiders."

At this point, they were probably crawling onto her face. Grímnismál held her ears down to avoid them entering so.

The other wolf was quite helpful in explaining the process behind gathering the webs and what they would eventually help her do. Regin had never actually considered the pesky little bugs to be anything other than an annoyance and occasionally an itchy encounter. The young siren looked to the woman who seemed so comfortable with them being on her and sniffed warily once.
 
“How’d you learn to do it? Someone teach you or you do it on your own?”
 
Gin inquired with a curious tilt of her dark head. There was something about this wild woman who gathered spiders that had struck a chord with her. It seemed unexpected and she enjoyed that about the meeting with Grim.

"My mother was a witch, she taught me the ways of medicine." A simpler term was to call the woman who birthed 
Grímnismál a doctor, but it never felt suited. She was a whimiscle woman, one of quirks and laughter, it was a surprise the more anxious-induced reaper came from such a wild-wolf. It was a better term, to refer her as a witch.

"She taught me which spiders are better.. The long-legged ones are one of the friendliest." Despite some.. Unpleasant memories that may drift from her mothers harshness, she still thought fondly of her. After all, that was the only family she grew to know.

Regin rather liked the sound of being called a witch. She wondered how someone obtained a title of that sort. Most of the ranks and trades that were offered by Rusalka were ordinary sounding. A rebellious young girl could never understand the need to keep things relatively organized and familiar for potential joiners. It would do their numbers little good to have a unique culture built into their home. Still, Gin could not keep her imagination from racing wildly off-point. She almost missed the educational pieces of the woman's explanation. 

How many spiders can be good? 

The question was guarded in its nature. The young siren wasn't certain about all this witchy business just yet. If she'd be required to spend a good deal of time with the crawly creatures, she imagined she could find another title she'd like just as much as 'witch.' The gleam in her gaze was intense, but the woman Grim had managed to capture the wild pup's full attention.

"Uhmm, i'm only aware that these ones are good.. They saw keep away black ones, especially if they have a red mark on their back." There was quite a few spiders in the world, but many were unknown whether to be safe or not. The only ones she really knew were the long-legged spiders, not only they were generally harmless to others, they could trap other bugs and spiders in their web. Useful for the rainy seasons.

However many more were toxic, including the fable black spider with a red marking, the name may be unknown, but Grímnismál was strictly told to avoid them. Any unknown spider, should be avoided. They are small, but there's a reason they survived for so long.. Many were dangerous.

Regin had never heard about the black spider with a red marking. She thought the creature sounded delightfully mysterious, not that she would ever seek it out willingly. The young siren believed this peculiar wolf. She seemed like she knew well enough what she was speaking about, but Gin had very little means of cross-referencing these warnings unless she wished to get bitten by the spider in question. More importantly, the dark-headed girl wished to know more about what Grim knew. 

"Do you know anything about the fuzzy spiders? They look like they have fur," she prompted with a sharp glance toward the older wolf. Gin had watched those particular arachnids leap around on the foliage outside of the family den. She had watched them for a considerable time, finding their movements to be strange but intriguing. She hoped that Grim would know something about the odd spiders she had seen.

"I wouldn't know them unless I saw them.. Though I normally only deal with the long-legged ones." They were also the most comfortable to be dealt with, and were quite useful to gathering other bugs that would harm her herbs. She wasn't too sure the others characteristics, and wondered if she could gather them... Would they get along with the others?


"Ummm, who are your parents?" She somewhat reminded Grímnismál of Raleska, though with genes one could never be sure. She wasn't even sure who her own father was, as no one looked similar to her, and most of the keep had the iconic ruby-red eyes. Appearances didn't equal everything.

Gin furrowed her brow a bit at the initial response she received from Grim. She had hoped that this woman had been rather familiar with all sorts of bugs and crawlers. She had thought that this was a unique thing for a she-wolf to find interesting, knowing that even though she was bold, she did not like the look of the little insects beneath their paws. It would have been interesting to learn more about the world she knew little of.
 
“My moms are Rosalyn and Erzulie,” the young siren responded with a nod.
 
The two leaders of the pack had been the one constant in Regin’s life. She had known only the presence of those members. Unaware, her true mother was the young Raleska. This would likely be a truth that would never be revealed to the young pup.