Blackfeather Woods Some things never sleep

Perhaps @Quiet or @Macbeth would like a thread? :D

Fog carpeted the darkness of Blackfeather Woods in the afternoon. Perhaps it was only an impression, but the last days of winter seemed to be colder than the rest. The night would freeze for sure, it was time for Damien to dig himself a new den.

The place he'd chosen did not require much deliberation, Damien would only claim the best of places, and since his last fortress had been erased the night of the furious storm he saw the perfect chance to rebuild it. Conveniently near to both Redgrove and the Keep, and close to a clear stream of water, it was the perfect place.

The dark yearling dug for hours eagerly, reopening the entrance under the very same tree that had blocked the previous one and finding it easier to dig once he found the chamber hadn't collapsed. He wasn't expecting that, and much to his surprise, he found treasures he thought were lost forever. Although he searched madly, it had been impossible to find the iridescent raven feather, but both the dog skull he'd recovered from his first victim and the femur he'd found at the borders as a pup were there, and they were intact.

Excitedly, Damien left the construction behind and took the large, dirty skull to rinse the earth off at the creek; revealing that pure ivory he'd spent hours analyzing many months before at a young age. Blissfully he took it back to the half-built den and grabbed the femur to repeat the process.

Her excursion into the unclaimed territories of Teekon Wilds were fruitful, for her at least. She returned to Blackfeather late in the afternoon, chilled, hungry, suddenly realizing that she had no den to keep her warm in the chill of late winter. She had been spending her time asleep in the tunnels that winded underneath the forest, or tucked under bushes and outcrops. She had spent enough time in the hold of Blackfeather Woods and the Dark Brotherhood, she thought it time to establish a place of her own.

She wasn't alone in this lust for a den. The sound of scratching caught her attention as she walked deeper into the forest, leading her to a large black wolf caked with dust and dirt, a bone gripped tightly in his jaws. Quiet looked towards the wolf, then in the direction he was walking. A half-made den was open nearby, a skull placed near the opening. Quiet squeaked softly in greeting, her head dipping slightly. She did not know that this wolf was placed below her on the totem pole that was the pack ranks, but it didn't matter. She was being polite, instead of creepy, for once.

I suppose it's safe to put Damien up in rank since Quiet is being submissive?

Sharp senses told Damien he was not alone anymore. For a moment, he felt uneasy knowing that someone had seen one of his secret treasures, but when he saw who the watcher was everything changed. A female, small and unimpressive, and he had never seen her before. He realized that he'd been mentioned about a few new members that had joined while he wasn't home, but he hadn't been too curious about them.

Damien dropped the femur back in his den to put his attention on the strange hybrid, and felt at ease seeing she did not have a problem with acknowledging his superiority. He walked closer with his tail held high, and after a few moments of sniffing here and there to store her scent he noticed how quiet she'd been all along.

"Do you not talk?" he teased without realizing how true a statement he'd just made.

Yeah, Quiet isn't much for a dominant position anyway. She'd probably be submissive to everyone in DB

Quiet's nose twitched, the movement subtle compared the to larger dark wolf's sniffing as he came closer. The wolf, the spider-like mark on his shoulder clear to her, was of some importance within the Dark Brotherhood, or just the pack itself. Markings on the shoulder betrayed that knowledge to her without a word - just how she liked it. She, like him, stored his scent to memory, faintly recognizing it from the borders.

A small smile crossed her face and faded just as quickly as she nodded in response to his little joke. He was right, after all.

The small hybrid did not speak an answer to Damien, but the simple facial language was enough for him to understand, and intrigue him. "Oh, I see..." he said, folding his ears back and changing his whole expression to one that suited his embarrassment. "Then I guess there's no use in asking your name?" he mumbled, not really talking directly to her.

Damien looked back to his poorly hidden treasure, feeling vulnerable for a moment, but he had done a good job hiding the bone. A skill he got from his days of snagging and hiding as a pup. It was safe to let it rest for a moment and focus on the coyoteish thing. And then, the most brilliant, and probably worst idea came to him.

"You're probably good at keeping secrets, right?" asked Damien hesitantly, looking into her eyes as he tried to read how true her answer would be.

Quiet shrugged, wondering who hadn't told this ice-eyed wolf her name. She thought that everyone knew it already, but she couldn't always make assumptions. Those got you killed most of the time. Quiet, feeling comfortable in the presence of this younger wolf, laid down on her stomach in an almost regal sphinx stance, watching as he looked towards his treasures and back at her. At the question, Quiet smiled again, the expression now mischievous. She knew more secrets than any other wolf and the best part was, she would never, ever tell. Quiet wondered what this wolf would dispel to her, as many wolves have used her as a vessel to drain all of their fears and worries and secrets from everyone else. Quiet waited, now curious at what the wolf would say next.

It wasn't strange for Damien to not be up to date with everything that happened within the forest. Ever since Meldresi died he had withdrawn to the darkness and struggled to keep afloat, leaving little time to worry about everyone else. He had neglected his rank, his family and even his own physical condition, so not knowing the hybrid's name was nothing.

Damien looked around to make sure only the Quiet one heard what he was about to say. He double checked with his nose and ears, and when satisfied he took the very same position the hybrid had. It took him around thirty seconds to make up his mind, but once decided there would be nothing stopping, or unsaying Damien's words.

"I think my brother is in love with me." Damien revealed nervously, looking deep into the Quiet one's eyes with concern, and then fell silent, the anticipation of the female's reaction consuming him. It was clear how stressing it was for Damien to disclose that information, but it was obvious too that he wasn't speaking everything that was going on inside his head.

Quiet had heard some interesting things in these "talks" she had. This confession was no different, and as such she only nodded in understanding. Quiet had no idea that this brother of his was the mottled wolf she had met in the Plains a while back, but it would make no difference to her. Internally however, she felt a pit of disgust that she tried her hardest to hide. Incest was taboo amongst many, and it did not surprise her that these wolves, these wolves who worshipped death gods and killed for ritual sacrifice would have such inclinations. But this wolf's reaction was intriguing. Did they not actually condone incest or was there something more? Quiet inclined her head, goading him to go on and explain himself to her.