Hoshor Plains a place and a people

After meeting with Rusalka, the panther caught a second scent and traveled cautiously into the flatlands. Gradually, his tail began to wag, and he picked up his pace until he was bounding by the time he reached the borders. There, he lifted his head to howl for @Nephele. He could smell her husband, @Arktos, and @Fjall, too. He was glad to find the young man here amongst friends — or, as Nephele seemed to prefer, something like friends.

He found himself thinking fondly of the young woman. Her enterprising mind was a treasure, and he was sorry, sometimes, not to have been able to captivate it. It would surely serve her pack and her people well in the future.

As promised the dark shadow kept the borders walked. Red eye glittered, while white milky one stared unseeing.

He didn't speak much it hurt a little too much. There had been too much damage, but he could speak and pain was only temporary usually. Perhaps he deserved it.

Hello?

Voice roughened from ill use and injury rasped. While fixed eye moved across the man in front of him. Handsome, Dreven bet easily pleased. In his hey day he could have made the man scream in all good ways. But well now, dreven had lost the taste for it.

That thought alone turned bitter in his mouth and he cursed Atka again for loving him and then leaving him. When you got too close to the sun you burned and he had.

the brutal beast had beaten the wrangler to the borders where dutch's call had risen — primarily for his wife. though he understands the logic of it: dutch knew nephele better, it rankles him just a little bit. perhaps that their marriage had come about out of attraction and loneliness and practicality rather than sentiment picks at whatever insecurities arktos pretends not to have.

dreven, a greeting and grin offered. this is dutch. he's a ...friend. friend was used loosely, if only because the two of them knew each other's names and faces and once, for a brief few days, dutch had been his leader.

nephele's on a diplomatic tour, makin' nice with our neighbors, an easy grin paints itself upon arktos' lips though it's clear the warbear has no taste for such things. what brings you to our parts o' the wilds?

A bark of laughter, friendly in nature, followed the delicate pronunciation of that word — friend. He was thinking that Nephele and Arktos were a well-suited pair, and that pleased him even if he himself was not quite sure of their 'friendship'. He was not afraid to use the word, however.

"Yes, we are friends," he reassured the man, though he was not sure he expected his word to be taken on the matter. "It was Nephele who brought me here, only to say hello and to pass on some news. I am sorry to have missed her, but I am sure she will not be so disappointed as I! She knows she has already won me over."

So there was no more work to be done, was there? Dutch wondered if he would ever truly endear himself to the woman.

"Morningside has moved to the coast," he told them. "To the weald beside Ocean's Breath Plateau, where the seal hunters reside in the village of Moontide." He would repeat this as necessary for them to remember it. "She — and indeed, you! — may seek us there, if you ever feel the need or desire."

Dreven tilted a tattered ear to his leader. And then backed himself away from the two men. He would keep a weather eye on the newcomer. But otherwise stay unengaged.

A bruef wondering if Atka was in moontide. And a peomise he would never offer to go get this one if Arktos needed him. Incase of. He wouldn't destroy what peace snow had made after leaving him.

there's a very brief moment that exists, there and gone in the breadth of a heartbeat, that arktos wonders if he would ever have to worry about dutch. which was a very bold thing to think of a man that had allowed his most base of instincts to take over as he lay with another woman, moons ago now. he'd deserve no less, lets be truthful. arktos holds to his silence, not real sure what to say to dutch's initial words. he'd tell nephele she missed him, sure, but he might very well omit the other admissions.

true, he wasn't half as pretty to look at as his wife was. nor did he have her grace with words.

he was, truthfully, probably not the one most wolves wished to cross paths with. about as conversational as a bull and with the same sort of mean glint in his eye, itching for a good ol' bar brawl.

arktos wasn't familiar with the coast, hadn't bothered to familiarize himself with many territories beyond the plains that yellowstone now claimed; holding it's own secrets to discover, he was confident. admittedly, he was a bit surprised to hear that morningsong — now morningside — had survived. their numbers had been dangerously low when he and nephele had departed.

i'll pass along the word, when she gets back. he promises, hoping his wife would be more familiar with 'moontide' than he was.

It was a source of wonder and amusement to him that these wolves were so like their mistress; neither of them seemed to have much to say to him, though her husband did his best to respond. He felt rather like I think Steve Irwin must sometimes have felt, picking up beautiful animals for educational purposes. There was a deep well of love and respect in his heart for these men — albeit, not the same as what he felt for his family — and so the interaction was fulfilling to him in many ways. But, knowing that they'd rather be doing almost anything else, he felt a little bad for bothering them.

It was time to let these creatures slink back to their natural habitats to live another day.

"I thank you, Arktos," he replied, bowing to the other man with a peculiar twinkle in his eyes. The reminded him of the sea queens he'd known at Blackmouth Bay, when he really thought about it. Perhaps they would have made better company for those women than he had.

"I will leave you in peace," he went on, backing away. "Be well, my friends."

Dreven had tuened them both out ages ago honestly. He didn't know this Nephele except that she and Arktos belonged to each other and good for them. Yay and all that stuff.

Though his ears did perk up what tattered pieces could when it seemed the conversation was at an end.

He shifted and stood now. Waiting quietly. He even fought off a snort of derision at being called a friend.