Blackwater Islands e sea, silver —

left this as all welcome so no obligation to join ( if you don't want to join, it can be a tag for reference ). <3

that he catches the scent of @Nyra upon the fledgling claim of blackwater surprising ingram.

that she survived the lust for her blood by the bear-king of ursus draws into light either the failings of merrick or her sheer determination to live. a soft sort of irony that borderlines amusing tickles like a laugh in ingram's throat though it does not manifest to pass thru his lips.

the keeper, iron guardian of blackwater and the druids it harbors tucks those thoughts away; as is his job. to know secrets and collect information ...either intentionally or purely by coincidence as happened now. webbings of information: separately collected now weaving together in an interesting spiders' web that he hopes to examine further in the future; watching how it might strengthen or unfurl.

ingram clamps tighter down upon the plump rabbit he'd hunted earlier that morning: before the sun had crested the horizon and brought to light another drab, grey day ... and the idle crossing of one of nyra's scent paths and carries it towards the nearest food cache with the intent to store it.

little does he know ( yet ), with the women who would bear cubs in the spring and summer months, they would soon need these caches filled.

It'd been at least a few days since Nyra and her two followers were accepted into the growing numbers of Blackwater. 

The Warmaiden was also carrying a small kill to a cache when she saw Ingram. Though she didn't recall if the young man ever gave her his name, it didn't matter too much now.

Nyra carried a second rabbit in her jaws when her path crossed Ingram's. She let out a chuff of greeting around the corpse in her teeth, but nothing else passed from her lips as of yet. 

She made to carry on after a brief pause, unsure if the Keeper would stop her for anything. She didn't take him as a conversational kind of wolf...

she chuffs, and he takes it as invitation as he adds his kill to the cache and steps aside to leave her room to deposit her's.

i am surprised to find you here. surprised to see her alive ...if not a bit worse for wear. she had scars before the battle but now they were her dominate feature.

who recruited you? he does not ask it in a rude way, merely a mutely curious one. had it been the listener? or morgana? it much matter, he supposed; he was just aiming to find out how the webs all interconnected. you do not really strike me as the religious type. he remarks; though perhaps a bit unfairly. he wasn't, either. or hadn't been, at least.

but he knew his reasons for following the listener. he did not, however, know nyra's. and gathering information was apart of his job.

The Warmaiden hmms softly in response at first, depositing her own rabbit into the cache next to his own.

"The Listener." She replies after a moment, to his question.
"I haven't been a religious type of wolf in many years. Not since my birth pack." She added, shaking her head sharply at the thoughts that try to come creeping in when she talks about that part of her past.

The Warmaiden begins to move away from the cache. She assumed the Keeper would probably follow, intent to find out more.

according to nyra, she had been recruited by the listener herself. a soft nod is given, the cogs in ingram's mind turning as once leader of the saints goes on to respond to his question: admitting that she has not been religious in many moons.

so then, he cannot help but wonder, why.

seeking to change that? ingram inquires, scarred muzzle lifting a small measure. or do you have other plans? was it the listener's power nyra was after? the woman had not struck ingram as someone who liked being a subordinate, either; though in all fairness he knew very little of who she really was.

which was the point of his inquisitiveness. to get any sort of feeling on whether she meant to be a loyal servant of the unnamed god and the listener or whether she would be here and gone like many wolves seemed wont to do.

Nyra hmmed again with a gentle hum.
Why was she here?

The Wardog turned to him again with her answer.
"She offered me and mine a place here. I am indebted, and how that will all manifest is beyond even me."
Her hell-gold gaze leveled to Ingram's face as she said this. Truly, she wasn't sure what to expect. But she wasn't going to share everything The Listener had said to her upon the shores that first day. It didn't seem right by the prophet to do so.

a debt. a offer of home and sanctuary. for some, ingram supposes, that is enough. he takes a moment to reflect upon his own reasonings for being here: despite that he was only now starting to feather into the religious aspects: the listener. his devotion, his affection ...it was to her; always.

everything and anything else would come in its own way, its own terms.

a draw of breath is given; a cast of his gaze elsewhere before settling back upon the woman's heavily scarred visage. i once fought against you and yours on the side of ursus, no doubt she did not need the reminder; but the keeper did not want unnecessary trouble in the future. better to clear the air here and now. it was not personal. he does not admit that without the listener he'd been lost. i bode you no ill will.

whether nyra held a grudge or not was up to her; at least on ingram's end: his stance is made clear.

Nyra watches him contemplate her words fire a moment before he talks again.

He admits he once fought against her on Ursus' side. 
Assures her it wasn't personal and he bodes her no ill will.

Nyra's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Ingram, taking in any signs of dishonesty. 
Where she found zero.

Satisfied, she let out a breath.
"Then I bode you no ill will either." She responded, waving her tail a few times.

ursus had been a very brief time in ingram's life; a ceaseless wandering. a lost soul mourning the loss of his tether; but the listener had returned to him and he had left them behind without a bat of an eye; without remorse.

their war had not been his war. and though he had a brief encounter with what he believed to be the unnamed god in the form of a mighty bear ...he did not fight in the name of their bear gods. he'd fought because he had no choice; because until the listener's return he had planned to stay.

to hear that nyra returned the sentiment: of not holding ill will against him for the crimes he committed brought with it little relief but a soft of calm all the same. it would make the islands small if she did. they were packmates now and the past was the past.

so the past is the past. the keeper murmurs the words like a spell finished; giving a sage nod. welcome to blackwater, nyra. though he doubts his welcome is needed, he offers it anyway; a proverbial olive branch.

The Warmaiden nods once as Ingram says his next words. 
Yes, the past is the past. She wasn't interested in killing the Keeper. It didn't serve her interests, for one, but among other things, she didn't need one more pack hunting for her head. 
There needed to be trust within the Druids. She didn't want to be one to break that.

"Thank you." She replied to his welcome. An open accepting of said olive branch. 
With that, she'd wait to see if he has more to say. If not, she would return to wandering.

she accepts his olive branch and ingram is content to do exactly as he proposed: let the past be the past. it is a driving motivation on his spiritual journey; the strange weaving starseeds that have brought him to the here and now. the reading bones and the truth of praimfaya's death told to mahler. many chapters ending — some with more malice than others.

either way, they are ended.

ingram watches her depart until she is out of sight; returning his focus to covering up the cache.