Neverwinter Forest At the edge of the woods

There were fireflies behind him, so many of them. Despite the destruction left by the locusts, they still remained, beaming brightly in the dark. Now that dawn had broken, he was certain they had returned to just being ordinary flying creatures, waiting for sunset to resume their ethereal bioluminescence.

It was extraordinary moments like those that made Faolán feel better about his recent life choices. Sure, he had left everything he had ever known behind. But as the fourth of four sons, what choice did he have? His brother had assumed leadership after their father's death and given second-in-command to their sister--their sister! Not that Faolán had anything against women. But Sorcha had never shown herself to be a leader; indeed, she tended to crumble under pressure. Aodh had made few stupid decisions in his life, but that one. . .

"Shut up, Faolán," he told himself crossly, shaking his head. It did no good to dwell in the past. Lorcán had moved on to start a new family, and now Faolán was out to do the same. His only brother had gone north; he had gone south. Turns out, Lorcán had made the wiser choice. Cranky bastard's probably up there enjoying the herds, while I'm down here surviving off scraps. How could he have known about this famine?! What a mess.

The sun rose above the horizon, coating the valley in a beautiful golden-and-amber glow, and Faolán blinked sleepily; he had traveled through the night. Now he saw he was approaching a lush forest, green even through these trying times. As he reached the edge of the forest, he smelled wolves. Wolves.

He had encountered a few lone wolves south who had told him about a pack that resided in a piney forest. This must be them. Their scent markings were strong at the forest's edge, warning any trespassers away. The smell seemed to scream, I dare you to cross. Strong wolves they must be.

Faolán let out a long howl and then sat, awaiting his reception here.

The sun had hidden itself away for most of the morning behind a flurry of wind-whipped clouds. They eddied together like cotton, while the fringes of them, far off and away, looked like they had been pulled and separated in to spider silk. What might have been a bright and warm spring day (well on the way to summer) hadn't felt all to pleasant to the old man. He had never been particularly susceptible to the cold, being a northern beast, but lately he'd noticed a thinning to his coat. And by lately, he meant for the past year or so. The famine did not help matters. Njal's hunger seemed to perpetuate things, as if the stress to his aged body was manifesting as hair loss. He'd already bleached considerably compared to how he used to look, so why not lose half his pelt while he was at it? Hrumph.

But, back to the point: it was cold, he was cranky, and the calm of the day was inturrupted by a seemingly endless howl which brought him out of a weak nap. The old man needed to rest after traveling so far; he'd only been given a place among these wolves a day or so ago. But when the call rang out it roused something in him. It had been quite a long time since he had defended any borders, yet he felt compelled to now, the fire of his old life being stoked by that unending summons. Whoever the stranger at the forest's edge was looking for, it sure as hell wasn't him — but they were in for a surprise.

It took some time, but Njal did eventually make it. His body was sore all over from his rest, and his hip smarted something awful with every step, causing a scowl to permanently etch itself upon his rugged face. When he caught the scent of the foreigner he tried to pick up his pace, but that only made him grumpier - and by the time he spotted the stranger in the fringes of the territory, Njal was the absolute antithesis of a happy host. He grunted as he came to a halt and raised his chilled gaze to meet the stranger, uttering a single broody What. He would've followed up with get off my lawn, but it wasn't his lawn this time.

It was a while before someone answered his call, but someone eventually did appear, that someone appearing in the form of a burly wolf, marked with scars and with age. This wolf was bigger and brawnier than Faolán, and, by the looks of him, a lot less friendly.

"What." said this stranger succinctly. Friendly fellow, Faolán remarked sardonically, though he held the barb from slipping off his tongue, lest he have his throat ripped out by this newcomer. Wouldn't be a great start, to be battered around by a member of the pack you're seeking to join.

"Good day to you," Faolán said with a small smile, keeping his tone measured. "My name is Faolán. I have come to seek entry to your pack."

The gray wolf looked seasoned, like he knew what he was doing. And if this burly man wasn't the one in charge of admittance, perhaps Faolán's earlier call would attract the one who was.

It was obvious what the stranger wanted, and yet Njal felt the need to press him all the same. Until he started talking, of course. At that point Njal decided he really didn't give a damn about why, and observed the newcomer as if he were staring at a tree, or a rock, or some other thing that was incredibly prolific and commonplace. He grunted again when the stranger named himself, and murmured sullenly, The pack ain't mine, before turning around. It looked as if her were about to leave, but then the old man breathed a slow inhalation, and belted in to the forest: @Scimitar!

That should've been enough to usher the alpha their way, coupled with the excessive howling by Faolan. When the northerner turned back to the boy, he began to examine him. Those old eyes narrowed, the scar that long ago tore through his brow looked as if it formed one solid line across his face, at least until his eyes opened properly again. He lurched suddenly in Faolan's direction and marched closer, sniffing rather obnoxiously at the air surrounding him, and once Njal appeared content by what he found, he stopped. You look fit enough. Seem t'be surviving these hard times pretty good, at some point Njal's use of the common tongue became inundated with contractions and slang, apparently. Oh well, old age had its quirks. Where'd you come from, and why'd you leave that place?

If it were up to Njal, he'd have chased this kid off the moment he heard his summons. But it wasn't, so he may as well keep him occupied until someone higher up the food chain came calling.

Scimitar, the elder wolf had called out. That must be the leader of this group, or at least the one in charge of deciding whether he stayed or left this place.

Faolán resisted the urge to flinch or take a step back as the man thrust his nose quite close, taking a deep sniff in his general direction. He was a bit relieved when the stranger ended this olfactoral interrogation, though he understood it was likely necessary.

"I'm very new to Teekon," Faolán said in answer to the statement about his good health. "Arrived here after most of the locusts left." He then focused his attention on the burly wolf's queries. "I'm the fourth of four sons." It was a tale he told many times--this would not be the last. He kept it brief, for the sake of both his and, more importantly, his counterpart's sanity. "My old pack was crowded, well-off. There was no need for me. So I left for opportunities elsewhere."

Faolán eyed the stranger curiously, though keeping his gaze soft so as to not look too pesky or inquisitive. This was a wolf he had no interest in disgruntling. "Pardon my poor manners, I've forgotten to ask for your name. You know mine, after all," he said civilly.

Scimitar had remained skeptical upon allowing entry of the grizzled silver wolf, Njal, to the pack, and yet thus far had not been disappointed. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to the cinnamon wolf, and yet the way the Sveijarn and Frostfur had parted in Swiftcurrent Creek, it hadn’t been overly amicable.
 
But bygones were bygones, and with a famine upon them, a sister with new pups, and a pregnant mate, Scimitar was not keen to linger upon past frustrations when their future remained so threatened.
 
Njal called to him, and the large wolf was quick to respond. His own muzzle tipped back, echoing his position and notifying the ward he would come. His paws were not swift – fatigue fell heavily upon him, for he went with very little food now. His own form was thinning, and his eyes becoming more lifeless. It would seem Teekon Wilds was not done pressing challenges upon them yet.
 
When he came to the scene, the older wolf was there, having intercepted a dark stranger. Scimitar’s muzzle tipped downward in light greeting, though his form held the edge of pride still, despite his hunger. His eyes were swift to study the wolf, his features impassive. “State your name and business,” he requested, quick to get this underway.

His newness explained his fine health, which Njal was only vaguely jealous of. There was a sheen to this boy's coat, and he lacked the gaunt figure of one who had gone hungry for too long. The rest of the information passed through the old man's ears without comment, he looked sour as he listened, waiting impatiently for Scimitar's inevitable arrival.

When the man came, it was in time for the boy's query towards his name. Njal did not give it. He turned instead to Scimitar and addressed the alpha promptly, giving what information he could. Says he's new to the wilds. His name is Faolan. With that the old man pulled away from the gathered pair, his surly voice carrying through the air as he murmured, Seems healthy enough. Not sure how sane he is though, given that he wants to stay here. Njal glanced briefly at Scimitar as he said this, and then fell in to place behind him; he would stand guard in case the boy proved to be more meddlesome or aggressive than he initially let on, but otherwise faded in to the background.

The wolf that must be Scimitar emerged from the woods to stand close to his new acquaintance. He carried himself like an alpha, head and tail high, big and strong. Faolán lowered his head in greeting and in deference.

"Like he said, my name is Faolán, and I've come to join your pack," he said without preamble. "I understand the importance of a pack hierarchy and am skilled in hunting and scouting. I believe I can be an asset to your family here."

The presumptive alpha's turquoise eyes were gimlet upon him, but Faolán stayed steady on his feet, waiting for the other's reply.

Njal was blunt – something Scimitar could appreciate, mas their energy was indeed fading with each passing day. Wolves could only live upon rats and other vermin for so long before they began to hollow, and a quick look at the swarthy wolf before him could reiterate that this wolf seemingly held no idea he had stumbled upon a famine.
 
One ear flickered in acknowledgement to the silver guard’s words, and a flicker of amusement gleamed in his eyes. The wolf introduced himself, speaking of his skills. “We don't have much room, and will only fill our ranks with hard workers. All initial food is to go to the Beta, who has newborn cubs.. and then my mate, who is pregnant.”

He paused then, appraising the wolf before him, Njal's comment still lingering in his mind. “He’s right, you know,” the cinnamon wolf remarked, studying the stranger with mild interest. “There’s a famine here – why would you want to stay?”

Feel free to skip me to get this thread done with! Njal is loitering but nothing else really.

Njal was silent, watchful, a stationary figure behind Scimitar. It felt as if he were watching a rudimentary dance; a ritual that may die out when the famine got much worse. He was mindful of Scimitar's eyes upon him, brief as the moment was, and then they both watched the dusky creature, and Njal wondered how long the boy would last among them.

A damn good question, to be sure, Faolán thought at Scimitar's questioning why he was here in the midst of this famine. I wonder that, myself, every day.

But he did not say as much, the smile still on his face. "Well, it's complicated. Life's complicated. But to make it brief, I don't want to go back to a place where I'm not needed. I don't want to go further south, because I hate the heat. And. . ."

Faolán broke off his sentence, realizing that what he had to say next probably sounded incredibly trite. Ah, well. No reason to hold back now. "I've just got a good feeling about this place; that's all," he ended, eyes skimming the tree-tops as he said so.

"I realize that times are hard," he continued on, looking back at the pair. "I understand that my first duty will be to the pack. I know how it is to serve. You can believe me that I wouldn't seek entry if I didn't mean to contribute."

It was true. Faolán could have remained alone, picking his way through the countryside, scavenging on what he could find. But he was a social creature to the core, and he would gladly take a bit of hunger and discomfort for the feeling of camararderie, of being a part of something bigger than himself.

"Of course, the decision is yours, sir," Faolán said, bowing his head to Scimitar. "But you have my word that I will be helpful and true to your family and pack."

It would have been easy to deny the younger male entry to their pack – Njal’s acceptance, only days before, had stemmed merely from the past the two males had together, and Scimitar had placed the trust he once had for the silver male at the forefront of his mind. Tuwawi did not grace Njal’s side – had she, it was likely Alpha would have denied them entry to the pack.
 
In truth, Tuwawi likely would have refused to even knock upon their doorstep, so the point was moot.
 
Yet he felt he was taking a larger chance at the dark wolf’s words – but he was not so quick to turn him away. There was no food here – the famine disclosed, and somehow, Faolan wished to remain and aide their family. It made little sense to the agouti wolf, given they were strangers, and yet to deny they could use all of the help they could get for the puppies of the pack was too large a gamble to deny.
 
If the dark wolf decided to put his own stomach and full needs before them every time.. Scimitar could deal with him then.
 
“Very well,” he decided, giving a nod of finality. “Rest up. But within the next day I want you and Njal to take someone else in the ranks and seek out one of the nearby creeks or rivers. We’re going to try fishing for our food,” he decided then, his bright eyes drifting back to Njal, waiting for the man’s thoughts on the matter. “There has to be a way to transport some of it back for Kaskara and Eshe?”

Evidently, the boy was to remain with them. Njal had no issue with this. It was a decision left up to the alpha, and he was not the alpha; although had he been, the old man would've been far more strict, simply because of the state of the world. When Scimitar addressed him he gave a grunt, then after a moment clarified: We can eat the smallest ourselves, and carry the largest back with us. The whole fish can go to the adults. If we must, we can regurgitate the rest. He would have suggested giving the fish from his own belly to the children, but they were too new; everything must go to the new mothers then, even if it meant they'd be eating hot, pre-digested fish from the bellies of their subordinates. It did not bother Njal at all.

I will find a third, he murmured softly, indicating that he would depart soon upon this mission. They were all in need. Njal would not let any member of his new family starve, especially the newborns. With that said, he turned and began a leisurely walk away from the pair, but kept his wits about him in case Scimitar had more to add.

Faolán gave the alpha a grateful look at his words of acceptance. "Thank you," he said simply. "I look forward to serving this pack."

He would rest a bit, then, on Scimitar's orders, but then would go with the older wolf and whomever he chose to fish for the pack. As he had once lived on a lake, Faolán had some experience with fishing, though he was more skilled at taking down furry game. Nevertheless, this was his first challenge here, and he was eager to begin.

The burly wolf began to pad away, and, with a final parting nod at his new leader, Faolán slowly began to follow. His new life here had begun.

 

I'm fading; if anyone feels the need to post something else, you can do so, or else I'll just archive. @Njal, wanna start that fishing thread and tag whatever wolf you choose to join us? :)