Larksong Grotto Know not where I'm at, but know where I've been

Sometimes, Miyako wished her brother had killed her, too.

If he had done so, she wouldn't be here, paws planted on cold stone, watching the songbirds flutter about, chirping their tunes that meant something to them but absolutely nothing to her.

She had no idea where she was. After Ichiro had turned on her, she had just gone south, picking her way through taiga and tundra, seeking solitude. Her fur was black and clean, but it might as well be splattered with the blood of her brothers, blood spilt on her watch as she sat, unable to help as they were ripped apart.

Her sister and youngest brother? Probably dead, too. Her parents certainly dead. Ichiro and his heartless shrew of a mate with control of their family's territory. Miyako was alone. No one knew her here.

It was a comfort and a terror to find herself a stranger in a strange land. For once, she had peace and quiet. But the quiet sat in her stomach, sharp and intrusive, like a bone you swallowed after forgetting to chew. "Alone," she said aloud, her voice echoing off the empty grotto walls. Old scent markers told her there had once been a pack here--but they were here no longer, and Miyako was alone. Alive, and alone.

Durnehviir knew that finding her mother and brothers would be no easy task, but she was becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of progress. She'd completely underestimated the vastness of the Teekon - her time there, or at least the time she remembered - had been spent solely in Swiftcurrent Creek, never venturing far from the whelping den she shared with her family. There had been someone else there, a pale female, a she-wolf who'd been an active figure in her infancy, but Durnehviir could not recall her name.

Aside from her desire to know what happened to her kin and the pack she'd been born to, Durnehviir found herself longing for the companionship of Constantine. She'd only met him once, by chance or fate she did not know, but he'd asked her to sell him out on the coast. It left her heart torn two ways: one part clung to the past, while the other yearned for the opportunity to start over.

She found herself tentatively travelling North, trying to convince herself that settling was perhaps in her best interest. It would be good to have a base, a safe place, and Durnehviir reminded herself that she could still have the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Pack life had never been for her, or at least she'd always thought this way as she ventured with Viinturuth. Now, however, she was entirely alone, and she didn't enjoy solitude as much as she thought she might. 

As Durnehviir crossed through the grotto, an unknown voice echoed nearby. Startled, the tawny wolfess paused in her tracks and jerked her head in the direction it sounded from to stare with wide-eyed surprise. Her pale eyes fell upon the form of another female, slim and swarthy, facing away from her. There was a certain sadness that hung in the atmosphere around her, that made the crimson-tipped Frostfur cautious to approach. Instead, she opted to remain where she stood and barked an acknowledgement: "hello?"

Lost in thought as she was, Miyako had been out on her own for too long to not be constantly alert to her surroundings. She heard the intruder coming from yards away. Her mouth quirked as she tried to work out what it could be.

The footsteps were evenly-spaced and self-assured, and soft--the pads of a carnivore, then, not a frightened elk or deer--and were gently searching, not stalking, so the sound gave Miyako no alarm. It was only when a greeting rang out behind her that she spun around, rising to all four legs and giving the newcomer a measured look.

"Hey." Her voice was cool, void of emotion. Miyako was facing a beautiful, slim tawny she-wolf, her light golden eyes bright in the dim grotto. Inhaling deeply, she inferred the wolf was not necessarily alone--she caught the scent of another on her, fading yet still apparent--but did not carry a pack scent at all, nor the smell of a hunting party. Miyako felt relatively secure that this was not a trick or ambush of some kind.

The stranger, startled, swung around to look upon Durnehviir with sharp amber eyes. The tawny Frostfur took a swift step backward, claws clacking the stone beneath her, her own opalescent gaze never drifting from this unfamiliar wolfess. They stared at one another then, clearly uncertain of intentions, and the coarse guard hairs of the crimson-tipped Frostfur's nape lifted enough to display that she would not hesitate to defend herself if need be. 

Durnehviir was no fighter by choice, but Viinturuth had taught her the best he could. Usually, she relied on her silver tongue and peaceful approach to douse heater situations she found herself in, but sometimes physical force was necessary. It was not the case this time, however, as the obsidian female offered a blunt greeting and remained in place with no hostility. 

Durnehviir relaxed somewhat, though still remained Southborough on edge. She made no move to close distance between them, opting instead of ease any tension by giving a friendly wave of her feathery tail. "I'm Durnehviir," she said with a curious cant of a red lobe. "Are you alright?"

Miyako took note of how on-edge the other female remained and wagged her tail in return, hoping to seem at least somewhat genial, despite her frosty tone.

"Durnehviir. . ." she tested the strange name on her tongue, letting her mouth roll over every syllable. "Durnehviir," she repeated more confidently. "Hi. I'm Miyako."

As for the she-wolf's question? Miyako resisted the urge to laugh scornfully aloud. To say she was fine was a gross understatement, but, then again, to say that she was not all right seemed a petty exaggeration on her part. Chin up, she could hear her dead dad's voice bark to her from the grave. 'Course, he would have phrased it a bit more colorfully than that. . .

"I'm alive," she finally answered succinctly, figured that response worked as well as any. Miyako pointed her nose in a circle 'round the grotto, gazing quizzically at Durnehviir. "This your home? Sorry if I'm intruding."

As the other female responded with a gentle wag of her own tail, Durnehviir let her muscles slacken. Although confident that they were of no threat to one another, the tawny beauty managed a delicate smile for her raven-pelted companion, who repeated her name. Durnehviir. It was odd to be named for a frost-breathing dragon of her grandmother's lore, considering she herself was kissed by fire.

It was a name that many often found difficult to pronounce, and she'd never gained a nickname from it. This never bothered her, however - each name was unique, and she loved that hers linked back to her mother's heritage. After all, Durnehviir knew literally nothing of her biological father and hadn't cared much to find out. 

I'm alive, the wolfess answered, and the warmth drained from Durnehviir's features. She blinked at the other female, immediately wondering of her background and what caused her to wind up alone in the grotto, simply alive. In a way she understood, the tawny Frostfur supposed, for more recently she too had faced moments when she'd felt as though she'd done nothing but survive. "Do not apologise," Durnehviir insisted softly, canting her head as she regarded the other girl curiously. "This is not my home. Where are you from?"

Miyako couldn't help but smirk as she saw the other wolf taken aback by her curt reply. She had spent so much time inside her own head that she had forgotten how others responded to cynicism. At least Durn. . .Durne. . .oh, whatever the fuck her name was, wasn't living here. Miyako had already been chased off some pack's lands a little farther north, and it left her with a healing scratch beside her left eye. Luckily they hadn't aimed an inch closer to her nose.

"Ah, cool, so I'm good," she said, twitching an ear. "I'm, uh, from up north. By the sea. Ten days' journey if you run nights, sleep days."

Which is what she had done. Galloped across the plains and through the forest, the summer moonlight glowing off her dark pelt. Snoozed lightly when the sun was in the sky, plagued by nightmares of her family.

"Are you from here? Do you. . .have a pack, or are you alone? You smell like you've been alone for a while. Not to pry," she added hastily.

The other female announced that she had come from the North, from a pack by the sea. At once Durnehviir wondered if she knew Constantine, but the curiosity dwindled when she added that the journey was approximately ten days' long at a fast pace. The Teekon coast seemed to be a significantly shorter distance from where they'd found themselves. 

Miyako had travelled much like she and Viinturuth had through the hot season: moving at night and seeking shelter from the harsh Summer sun when it rose high enough. "I was born just South of the coast," the crimson-tipped Frostfur said, "but I was separated from my family when I was very young and ended up living with my uncle. We parted ways some weeks ago, and I came back." To chase ghosts of a mother and three brothers who were likely long gone.

"I'm heading toward the sea, where a..." what? Constantine was still very much a stranger to her, and yet meant something. But what, exactly, was he? "An acquaintance, is seeking to start a pack of his own. I intend to settle there."

Miyako's ears pricked curiously as the she-wolf announced her future intentions, especially the hesitation in her voice. "Wow," she intoned. "Hell of a risk to take on an acquaintance.

"Sorry to hear about your family," she added, with more than a little sympathy. "Family's a pain, sometimes, but you don't really know how much you miss them until they're gone."

She felt a pang as she said the words, swallowing thickly as memories came to mind. Jiro and Saburo playing tug-of-war on the beach with an old whalebone, giggling through their teeth, the former's bulk eventually catapulting the latter into a tangle of legs in the sand. Sweet Tsukiko telling Goro stories, the little one's eyes wide with wonder. Half those characters now dead. Gone.

Miyako squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to drive away the pain. She opened them slowly and gave Durnehviir a gentle look. "I hope you're able to find what you're looking for."

Durnehviir simply looked at the dark-pelted female as she voiced an unwanted opinion, pale eyes void of interest in what she had to say on the matter. She and Viinturuth had travelled from pack to pack throughout their entire time together, so settling with strangers for a time was nothing new to her. If things didn't work out with Constantine's potential pack, it was easy enough for Durnehviir to move on. It was the only life she'd ever known. 

Talk of her last family also didn't pain her as much as it should, for she'd been so little when she was separated from them. It was not knowing what happened that hurt, and the possibility that she might never some that mystery. Durnehviir missed her uncle Viinturuth sorely though, for he'd adopted the role of pseudo father when he decided to raise her himself, and had been the only constant in her life. That wound was still fresh, however, and the tawny Frostfur tried not to dwell on her most recent farewell. 

It seemed Miyako was affected more so by the topic, as the dark female closed her amber eyes and soared to steel herself. Durnehviir blinked, uncertain of she should offer comfort or remain in place, and she opted for the latter. "Thank you," she said, grateful for the kind thought. "Are you planning to stay here, or move on?"

This stranger had her mind clearly set, Miyako observed. She remembered her words: a pack of his own. So maybe more than an acquaintance, and Durnehviir was being delicate about it. Miyako smirked and shook her head, abandoning the thought. No matter to her what this girl did. She had seen she-wolves do more foolish things for men.

"Oh, move on, for sure," she responded firmly. She lifted her nose and inhaled in illustration. "Too close to the sea. Smells like salt. Want to get away from that."

With a wag of her tail, she took a couple of steps closer to Durnehviir, blinking calmly. "So you're bound for the coast, and me the opposite way," Miyako said, beginning to wrap things up here. The short respite in the grotto had done her good, physically, and she was eager to continue her journey. "But maybe we'll meet again someday. If I ever get out to the ocean again."

She touched her nose gently to the wolf's shoulder in farewell, then began to pad up and out of the grotto, casting a friendly glance back at Durnehviir. It was the first conversation she had had in nearly a fortnight--and she was glad for it.

Wrapping up here. Thanks for playing! Hopefully they'll meet again sooner rather than later :)

Thanks for the thread!   :D

When Miyako announced that she wouldn't be sticking around for as long as she could smell the sea air, Durnehviir assumed that she wished to move on from her tormented past. Whatever had happened back at her home pack further along the coast, must have affected her enough to push her so far from all she'd ever known. Durnehviir experienced this herself, a long time ago: when Viinturuth found her and after realising who she was, she'd outright revised to let him take her home.

So she understood, and if given the choice to go back and relive the moment when she could have gone home, she wouldn't have changed a thing. 

"I wish you luck," the tawny Frostfur said, her words accompanied by a friendly lash of her tail. Briefly the other wolfess touched her snout to her peppered shoulder, and Durnehviir returned a warm smile before the pair went on their separate ways.