Nocturne Summit the spine can't decide between the earth and the sky

June 18, 2018: PM, 68°F, clear.

His decision to leave is not met with contempt. It is in their blood to want to travel and see the world and, to his experience he could go anywhere and just about expect one of his own to be there. Wanderlust is often encouraged and surely it’s because there’s nothing to be done to stop it. Atlantis is met with support of his desires and a place to return to, should he feel the need, and he makes his way north for the next several weeks.
 
On some level, there is a loneliness he will never admit to. No longer does he have his family at a short howl through the woods, depending on building up his own connections to turn to—should he find what he’s looking for (and he doesn’t know what he’s looking for). The mountain range remains to his left as he moves, traveling it with ease; he has nowhere in particular to be and there is no urgency in his gait. The woods rested against a mountain range, giving two mountain dwelling alphas the space they need to stretch their legs in high altitudes. Most of their children fell into those footsteps and he can scale high rises up and own with relative ease.
 
The sun hangs high in the sky, heating up the day, but the shade of the higher summit and wind blowing upward offers a gentle relief. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, cooling him off as he settles near the edge of a rise, overlooking terrain he’s yet to set foot on but excited to explore. Licking his lips, watching life exist below him without the knowledge there is an overseer amongst them.

Hydra has determined to spend less time outside of Moonspear, as her siblings were of the wandering age. Still, she felt in her bones that one last look around was necessary. The one-eyed menace was dimwitted, and he frequently tested his luck. Her banishment of him from this Wilderness was done for selfless and selfish reasons alike. If the Caldera, now gone, had taken him in and her parents had found this out, it would have been another war. She did not want that for Towhee, who ought to of had a choice in the matter—but she had been young and irrational both. Now, she was perhaps simply the latter. 

She did not smell him here, or anywhere she had covered yet. Hydra lingered briefly on the edge of a ridge, watchful of her surroundings—the sight of a pale male nearby caught her attention, and now her blue eyes remained upon his person. A summer breeze swept past her, no doubt spreading her own scent to inform him of her presence. She was not in the business of hiding it, either; she made her way down, swiftly but with learned precision, and observed his blank canvas. 

Not Vaati, then. 

Her hackles flattened, and she chuffed lowly to him, ears flattening for a brief moment in apology. The large man was impressive in bulk, as the Blackfeather wolf had been, but carried different scars than him—ones she could not see yet, though certainly ones not earned by her. She remained where she was, not wanting to press him or have him perceive her as a threat (which, initially, she may have seemed). Though she did not seek friends in strangers as she once had, she also did not seek enemies.

It tickles his nose first, dark, leathery button twitching upon the air as he slowly turns to see a dark woman escalating the incline with relative ease. At first, he does not notice her hackles are raised—simply that she is a goliath—but as she flattens it he realizes his mistake and a grin forms upon his features. The chuff is well-received, moving so that he elegantly stands upon all fours and stands upon sturdy ground should he have found foe instead of a friend.
 
She does not advance just yet, perhaps waiting for invitation, but he doesn’t offer it yet. He doesn’t expect to recognize her scent, individual or pack, but he keeps it in the forefront of his mind to lock it away. It has been days since he’s had a run in with another and he suspects, now that someone has shown up he’ll have more chance encounters.
 
Atlantis lifts his nose once in invitation before he directs it out and over the landscape. Local?

He does not seem interested in company, but neither does he seem disinterested. Still, Hydra knows she must return to Moonspear sooner rather than later. Given her own lack of interest in befriending any she crossed paths with, she thought to depart—but, just as she came to this conclusion, he seemed to decide otherwise. It was not as though he could know she had intended to go, not having made any move to do so. But for now, she elected to stay... if only for a little while longer. 

She answered his mute inquiry with a pointed look toward the highest peak. It confirmed his answer, and showed him where it was she lived. Her gaze upon her homestead was one filled with pride. It was a place she had known and loved for all of her life. When her gaze returned to him, she took several steps in his direction. She knew he was not a local, knew it by the question alone, and wanted to know where it was he had come from. Her tail swayed behind her in a show of her present affability, though each step was wary in case she should need to alter her path if he did not welcome the advance.

He follows the proud look of her face outward into the open, further up the mountain chain to the highest peak of them all. A slight nod of his head is all he offers in acknowledgment, thinking fondly of the range that surrounded his home. Sticking close to the range offers a sense of hominess—as much as he can get in a lonely world of a wanderer.
 
As she steps closer, he glances back in her direction and watches her approach. His nose twitches, absorbing the strength of her scent now that it is more accessible and he leans into the gesture, allowing a slight ruffle of his fur to offer the same in return. He has no other scents attached to him, not a trace of his former home, and follows it up with an indifferent shrug and shake of his head.

He did not show signs of irritation or aggression as she neared, and when it was offered Hydra's leathery nose pressed against the apex of his shoulder. She breathed him in, and she discovered the richness of his travels. There were places she had never seen drawn in this canvas that was his scent. Those that wandered appealed to Hydra, though wandering itself did not appeal to her as it did her sister, @Alya. Well-traveled and world-wise was a quality she did not find unattractive. It was why, even against her own desires, Hydra traveled to the Coast to learn. Wanderlust had its value. Loyalty, however, was what Hydra valued most in others. 

Upon her, he would smell her family, old and new alike. Stone, lavender, pine, petrichor—each present, here and now. She moves past him and gazes at the horizon for a moment before looking to him, and then her mountain. I must return. Now that he carried her scent, he would know why—she had much to protect and look after. She licked her chops and glanced toward the mountain again, then him, hesitant to depart his company just yet. She took a step away and gestured to her side; if he had nowhere else to go, to be, perhaps he might walk with her a while longer, and quit her companionship when he wished if that moment were not now. He had a quiet strength about him, one she wanted to know better.

He’d traveled in his younger days but he explored for days at a time, with intentions of returning to the woods. This time, he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. He does not wear the name as a banner, nor hold rank in their hierarchy. It is not until he takes up residence elsewhere that he’ll have something else to offer. His nose does not press against hers as she does his shoulder, but he can gather enough. Home, family, children—enough to cause a rise of his brow and look her over—but ultimately taking a step back as she moves past him. His vibrant gaze watches her, picking up no signs of actual motherhood, but understanding the purpose anyway.
 
The gesture causes his brow to remain, curious, and then taking a step to fill the space next to her. His expression moves and he looks down the summit, and the decline they have below them, but sturdy legs have prepared and maintained his center of gravity. The company is nice, however brief it may ultimately be, but he follows along curiously. She does not seem to mind to lead him close to her home, or at least in the general direction—he already knows where it is, in theory—but finding one landmark in the unknown helps ground his sense of direction.

It is nice, his silent and composed company. Hydra had this once with Terance, when he could be quiet; this was different, and at the moment this was her preference. The last thing she wanted was enemies; she was tired of them, of being made the villain. Hydra was a protector, and that was that. 

She would not mind him accompanying her for some time. They had a ways to go until they made it to the mountain. Her nose traced the earth at the sign of scat, to observe that it belonged to goat. Her ear twitched as pebbles rolled from a distant ascension point, and it was then her eyes fell upon that very beast as he made his way up to meet his herd.

He moves smoothly behind her, falling in line as she takes lead downward. His legs may have been sculpted for the mountainside but this ridge is unknown to his paws, where each step is carefully calculated with respect for the beast beneath him. One wrong move and they’re both tumbling down.
 
An ear twitches and he follows the movement of his companion, looking toward the goat, obvious to their presence. His days as a longer, he learns not to pass up opportunity and he wonders if she feels the same. Curiously, he draws his attention back, slowing his steps for any sudden change the dark woman may offer that will put him into motion.

She has not memorized this peak as she had her own home, but she knew it well enough from passing through; she knew what path was best to take, and which ones were best left avoided. She knew this path was a good one, though each step was still measured. She noted his attention upon the beast, and that his gaze lingered upon it longer than her own had. One ear cupped backward as she listened for him, in case he paused; Hydra did not know the hunger of a lone wolf, and could not relate to his present desire to feed. From Moonspear's last hunt, she still craved no other sustenance.

He did slow, and Hydra turned her head to peer at him. The beast was in good health, and the path he had utilized would likely be more energy than it was worth to climb. At least for that beast. He was in good health, and the thing bleated to his fellows. It still did not note their presence, or so it seemed; Hydra found her gaze falling back to it, slowing in her own steps simply to observe.

She does not look at the goat in the same way he does and he knows that look fondly. Most of his life he’s been able to walk by prey without a second glance but the last few weeks he’s been out on his own, it takes much more energy when all your kills are smaller.  It doesn’t take long to pick your battles as a lone wolf but an extra body for something sizeable would benefit him but her gaze never changes from simple observation. But asking to go after it? He doesn’t even know her name and he doesn’t want to risk losing his newest companion so soon, not when she trusts enough to lead him around a little while closer to their home.
 
Eventually, he suspects she’ll deter him elsewhere before they get too close. He brushes the goat from mind and follows behind in her slow steps, maintaining whatever speed she desires to move. Spring is turning into summer and the fruits of the season are around the corner as the young prey wanders a little too far from home. Another day, Atlantis can find something to fill his stomach but he can’t guarantee his spot with the enigma leading him downward.

The things which he considered, Hydra did not; it was because she did not know the turmoils of being a lone wolf, nothing more than that. She was well-fed, and hunting small critters was done more for sport than anything else these days, as lately they had been succeeding in their hunts—Summer was fruitful, which was fortunate given the new mouths to feed. Their numbers were not overwhelmingly large either; Hydra was able to eat her fill, and then some.

He picked up his pace to again fall into step with her, and her tail waved. His mute company was nice, she decided—though she did not desire any more friends outside of Moonspear, she could not find it in her to desire to quit his companionship. Once they neared Moonspear such a thing might change, but as it stood she felt at ease with his strength at her side. He was the palest shadow she had ever encountered, but she did not mind this at all.

Setting his hunger aside, the last leg of the trip down the ridge is made in comfortable silence. She doesn’t point out landmarks or significant location, either because she does not feel the desire to or there’s something nothing to note. Occasionally, he moves to catch her gaze to indicate her motive but his curiosity does not linger long. At least, not until they get to the base of the ridge and the ground levels out. On the other side of the plain is the skyline of the mountain—her home, he assumes—and he stares out ahead, slowing to a stop.
 
Whether she continues homeward or lingers behind, Atlantis does not follow after her but a neutral stance and slight smile remains should she hang around a little while longer.

Though there is not much of note to make the day one of significance for either of them, she would recall the encounter fondly—he slowed, and as he did Hydra peered over her shoulder. She turns a slight measure so that they form a T, and her ears flick atop her head. She needed to return home, but she supposed his own journey did not end here. 

If you can hunt, and defend, and seek a home, perhaps Moonspear will suit you, she offered; if he did go on his own way, he would find her there; Hydra did not intend to force his path to align with her own if he did not presently wish it. Strength and capability were what mattered to Hydra, now (and loyalty, too); she did not desire friends, as all but one had turned their back on her, and her aloof nature seemed to reveal as much, though her interest could perhaps contradict that—

But not really, she liked to think. 

Hydra sought something more, though what that more was, she could not explain. Only that she was headed there, and was on the path that would lead to her knowing.

His new companion slows to a stop and turns only halfway, looking back at him in consideration. He hadn’t expected an invitation but if she’d been willing to lead him in that direction, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knows nothing of the woman that stands in front of him. Not even a name and he has earned enough trust to offer a stranger a home where there are young. It would be easy to take the offer, for what luck does he have to find someone so willing to give him shelter so easily?
 
But is that what he wants? He left home to explore the world around him and settling on the first pack he encounters defeats the purpose of preparation. There is comfort within the woman and a curiosity to know more but it is a curiosity he will still have within the confines of a new home. Atlantis licks his lips and he glances through her, toward the mountain in the distance. Perhaps, if he is lucky, the invitation does not die here.
 
“I am a capable man,” he offers with a swish of his tail. While thin, he still holds the glory of his prime and a pack would round everything out. “But I left home to scout, to learn about the world, and Moonspear is the first to stumble on. What fairness is that to either of us? I would wander from your borders if I were to come now.” Honest words tend to sting, despite how much he’d prefer to find a home, he knows his soul is out there somewhere, waiting to be found.  “If it is what you desire, I will wear your title and return to you with what I learn. But I worry I cannot promise now what I could promise in the future,” he muses in consideration, too afraid to pass up the opportunity but able to keep going if it is not what she seeks. He would wear the title proudly—a wolf of this Moonspear—during his travels.

Hydra could not find herself disappointed in his response. Honest words tend to sting most, but she preferred them. She had nothing to lose, but something to gain were he to accept—and he seemed to, albeit in a tentative manner, his delivery one made with the lack of desire to disappoint. And she was not disappointed—she found herself further intrigued. Things easy to attain were hardly ever worth her consistent attention, she had come to find.

Then I await the future, Hydra decides, her tail swaying behind her as she offers him a genuine smile; the rogue had acquired a good portion of her attention, and the mystery of it all appealed greatly to her. This mystery man seemed to hold plenty of promise, even without the pledge of loyalty; she did not want halfhearted, she did not want something guessed or hazarded, in someone she might someday consider a friend or in a subordinate.

To acknowledge his other words, she continues: It might be best to seek information without a pack name to your own; others may be more compelled to share information with you in hopes to recruit you, Hydra advised, sure he knew the truth to that himself. Though I hope you do not find yourself too tempted, she quipped. He was handsome, sturdy, and honest—all traits bringing to the fore her idea of an attractive suitor. The Beta could not help but fantasize, though he would be none the wiser to it.

It does not surprise him she declines the offer, deciding to wait and see what the future holds. It makes the most sense, but perhaps wanting to appease her had briefly taken over. A smile forms on his pale features and his eyes shine regardless.
 
“I’m Atlantis,” he introduces after a moment of debate. The mystery of it all is alluring, but if he should return, she should know whom to look for. “I will let you return,” he says after a pause to give her a chance of introduction. “Until next time.”

Hydra, she introduces in turn with a wave of her tail. Hydra licked her chops and said with a smirk, May it not take too long for next time to come, she hums. She takes him up on his words, knowing she needs to get back; and, in hoping he would wait for her to depart, she peers over her shoulder so that her blatant interest is clear to him. Hydra wondered if she ever would see him again; she knew better than to hold her breath, though her mind ran wild with ideas.