Cedar Sweep i was born a shot-gun in my hands

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Astik does not stray too far from Golden Glade. His routine patrol sparks his curiosity and draws him out of the borders of his parent’s pack and into the Wilds. Perhaps the shadowed rook should be tired of the Wilds: the travel to get to Golden Glade was extensive and he remembers the trial and tribulation of it. He remembers the cold. It is not so cold anymore. He had never actually gotten to explore on their journey from Larksong Grotto to Golden Glade. They had moved with a singular purpose: find a new home though for Tapat and his sake their stops had been frequent. Astik pushes his boundaries, though. He is not too far from Golden Glade but he ventures deeper than he probably should have. He skirts around the Bog, cutting into the upper part of Cedar Sweep stopping only when he reaches the river that cuts through the shadowy forest, the trees thinning the nearer to the river’s bank he got. He knows his way back and has been practicing his sparring, though, and so he does not worry as he bows his head and laps at the cool water the river has to offer to him.

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The fae had not been with the pack more than a week, and tended to explore far more than her other pack members. She prowled along the underbrush of the dark forest, avoiding the tick-laden tall grasses if she could. She lifted her ivory muzzle into the wind, a familiar scent wafting through the air. Catching the scent of the pack outside of the bounds was uncommon enough out here that she faltered.

Shaking her head lightly, she pranced towards the scent. It was near the bend in the river that she nearly lost the scent as she crossed through the shallow waters. Upon exiting, she promtly shook her creamy pelt before coming to a dead stop. Down the river was a child, the source of her pack's scent. She chuffed lightly, not wanting to scare the boy, and padded nearer.

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The water is crisp and refreshing as it slides down his throat and dribbles onto his chin. There is a slight sense of wrongness to be without Tapat for the rook serves many roles to his brother: bodyguard, caregiver, brother, advisor but he knows that Tapat will be alright for a few hours. Astik’s worry never fully abates but he trusts that the pallid Larksong will be ok. A chuff breaks his revere and his head rises, droplets of water falling from his chin to splash against his broad chest. His salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls quickly to collect the droplets of water that linger upon the hairs of his chin before he turns to face his company with a curl of his lip and a flag of his tail. A child in the eyes of some Astik may still be but he is near full grown and what had once been baby pudge beneath his dark pelage is hardened into solid muscle. As the growth had been rapid Astik himself isn’t quite sure when he’d become a titan — he only knows that he is. She is a petite thing, he sees, draped in a coat of creamy ivory. She is pretty but best he can tell she is older than him by a few years and she smells of Golden Glade but she does not call to the rook any familiarity. She must be new then, he thinks.

It takes a beat longer until Astik realizes his body posture is still hostile and he relaxes ever so slightly. She may be a Glade wolf but she is still a stranger to him and the titan has an inherent distrust of strangers.

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Sorry for the short mobile post!

The younger wolf tensed at the sight of her, agression seeping from his posture. Although he still seemed to be the age of a child, his eyes looked wilder, filled with more knowledge than his age. With a tilt of her head and a flag of her plume, she padded closer. Albiet slowly, as not to tense the wolf more.

Stopping a mere five feet away, she spoke, "My apoligies, I did not mean to startle you, but you smell of the pack." Her statement was nearly a question, as to why he had reacted that way to her. It was a question upon itself as to why he was out here, although he might think the same of her. Lowering her tail just slightly and tilting her maw into a smile was her attempt at being cordial with the young wolf.

i am so sorry about the wait on this! :-(

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She had startled him in a capacity but Astik finds that he greets strangers with hostility in general. It had started during the move from the Grotto, the base desire to protect Tapat whose memory is flighty as a bird. There is a guarantee that his brother will cease to remember everything except, it seems, what came before. The cream woman states that he smells of “the” pack and Astik assumes she means Golden Glade and he detects the question beneath her statement with a twitch of his ear. “You are a stranger to me,” The young titan offers simply, with a shrug of disinterest. He does not mean to be so cold and curt with her but belonging to the Glade does not change the fact that she is a stranger, regardless. Obviously, Reek and Jhala saw potential in her, enough to take her in but Astik is not his parents and though he trusts their judgement he needs to make his own instead of blindly relying upon theirs. He does not respond to her second, underlying question, the hint to pry and find out why he is in neutral territory. He is not far from the Glade and the rook does not feel his comings and goings are any of her business.

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No-no, its fine. I've been kinda slow with this girl too.

"You are a stranger to me."

She bristled. A huff of air escaped and a slow nod followed shortly thereafter. "Yes - I suppose you are correct." a mischevious smile, "-but that is no reason for me not to say hello." Her words were simply put. She was a friendly creature by design. Still, she was similar to a posion dart frog - beautiful yet deadly. There was no way she would have survived alone at such a young age without being able to handle herself. Her gaze narrowed to two amber slits, her disapproval coating her tounge like a thick paste. "It is also not a good reason for you to be quite so rude." This wolf appeared to be the same age as the other young male of the pack, but not nearly as sweet. She glanced around, pondering why she remained in the conversation - if it could be called that at all. Her eyes locked on the obsidian wolf once more. Why was he so distant? If anything he should be similar to the other yearling, or vice versus.

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The cream fur along her spine bristles and his ear gives a lazy twitch as she huffs, clearly not impressed with his reply. There is a distinct rise of capriciousness within the juvenile. He does not contest her words because he cannot. She is right just as much as he (believes he) is. His hostility is far from personal — it is his default mode. Astik hears her disapproval heavy in her voice but cannot bring himself to feel perturbed by it. The only disapproval that has ever mattered to him is from his parents and Tapat. “It’s not personal.” He offers her in explanation though she did not ask for one. It is not an apology — for he would not apologize for his hostility because he isn’t sorry for it — but it is the closest thing she would get to one. It seemed a given though. How could it be personal when he didn’t know her nor she him? I’m just rude to everyone I don’t know. It is an interesting word to use. Astik had never considered that he was being rude, just solicitous. He is a rook. He protects the king (i.e. Tapat) and if that means he has to be truculent to weed out who is genuine and who is not then so be it; what Astik doesn’t realize is that it’s as much for protecting himself as much as it is for Tapat.

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The ivory fae nodded slightly, taking his words to be the closest to an apology he may ever utter. Her gaze relented from their slanted position, but remained trained on the dark figure before her. A pause, her gaze searching - for what? She did not know. She worked her jaw. This wolf was a tough nut to crack. Cold but still respectful, threatening but not malicious. She was certain now that he was the brother of the other yearling, even if their personalities varied. His scent smelled similar to that of the innocent Tapat, indicating their relation. Her head tilted ever so slightly, her tail still crowning behind her. "I do suppose then that I should leave." He was not much for conversation so it seemed, and she was not for idle sitting.

astik exit. feel free to reply once more or archive as it! :-)

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At her declaration that she supposes she should leave Astik’s shoulders rise and fall in a lofty roll of his broad shoulders. If that is what she thinks she is supposed to do then he will not stop her, not try to convince her otherwise. He should be getting back to the Glade anyway. He doesn’t have a curfew per say but he does have to get back to Tapat. No doubt his pale brother has long forgotten that Asitk told him he would be back in a few hours and is looking for him; and the rook does not like causing his brother distress. “I need to be going myself.” He breaks his silence to tell her not that he thinks it’s any of her business what he does. It’s not. He gives her a last look over, assessing her before he moves past her and heads back to Golden Glade not bothered that he never even offered her his name. She would either belong to Golden Glade long enough to learn it and earn his trust or…she wouldn’t.

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