Sun Mote Copse wandering through broken shadows

This is set at dusk.

As soon as he caught a whiff of all the scents at that brook to the southwest, he turned tail and stalked off in the opposite direction. They were coming together, likely for the winter. That might explain that one wolf he came across...Why, then, did he not join? Looking behind him, he gazed at Nimbus Summit in the distance, it's peak blazing beneath the sun's rays. There was much to do before settling, but with winter at his heels...

Passing many a tree, he eventually stops and favors one, some frail bark fracturing beneath his weight. Again his eye is drawn to that singular zenith. It's no longer visible. He laments, immersing himself with a slothful surveyal. Leaves litter the ground, damp and dead. There are other plants but they are succumbing to the cold temperature, practically wilting before him.

It's about to get colder, the sun slipping out of sight.

Darkly, he wonders if he will meet his end as well.

WC: 532

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With the light fading from the sky earlier and earlier every day, Niamh’s searches became shorter and shorter, much to her disdain. She had made a promise that she would not embark on any fully-fledged searching missions, even though she dearly wanted to, and found it incredibly unfair that she should not be permitted to search in full for her brother, especially when she knew he’d been injured. Day after day she had visited the site where Ambrose had been attacked by the cougar, and every day she fanned out her search in a different direction, trying to cover as much ground as possible while doing so, but every night she returned to the pack’s borders having found nothing. No trace and no sign of him, but fortunately- no sign of the cougar, either.

She had taken note, though, that the small pack gathering in the Shadewood was now not the only group of wolves that had chosen to settle in the area, which irked Niamh. She did not want any other wolves to be anywhere near them- not when winter was approaching and the hunting grounds they had usually not had to compete for would now be fair game for any who stalked them...But now, there were more wolves of a different group gathering along Silver Creek, so now they were not only sharing the lands to the West, but also the lands South of them as well. She was not best pleased by this at all, but there wasn’t much she could do. She travelled North and away from the Creek’s edge, beyond the mountain and into the Copse on her way back to her pack lands, where she would likely arrive a bit later than  she had originally intended...But bringing information with her on a new pack settling nearby would likely excuse her from her set curfew.

The scent of dead leaves growing more and more decayed by the snow that fell and had melted had obscured her sense of smell, so that when she saw the male, at first, she didn’t catch his scent enough to know any different. All she saw, from a distance, was a male who was about the right height, and whose pelt was dark but bore highlights that were all too familiar. Her heart leapt, and she called out with a loud bark. Her nerves rattled within her frame, spurring her into a gallop, and her eyes willed for him to turn and show her the cornflower blue gaze she loved so much...But the closer she got, the more she became aware that this wasn’t Ambrose at all. This wasn’t her brother; it was simply someone who resembled him greatly at a distance- but differed from him quite a bit up close. Realizing she had possibly spooked him by her shout and short-lived mad dash toward him, she slowed to a walk, her posture admitting defeat with a lowered head, ears that turned back and a tail that hung between her hind knees, swaying only gently from side to side with each stride she took. Apologetically, she grimaced. ”Thought you were someone else.” She called out, tone flat.

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He thinks about the range east of his position, tall and imposing. Some of the dips in the rock formations looked scalable but he wasn't about to test it. These lands were considerably unknown to him, having been retold through his grandparents. Even then, those tales were inadequate tidbits of a much bigger picture. Where lies the spire his grandmother spoke of?  The spine his grandfather regaled him with?

An enthusiastic bark draws him from his thoughts. What? Natjuk turns with a confused expression. Spotting the golden streak running betwixt the timber, he prickles at the wolf's impetus. He can tell - even from a distance - that he is not the wolf she's looking for. Surely not. Watching the drop in her mood with a level stare, he bade the fur to mellow over his back. No point in looking like a peeved porcupine.

She draws closer, clearly dispirited. Her words confirm what he suspected. Natjuk's ears twitch at the announcement. So, he had a doppelganger? How curious. He tilts his crown just so, as if to ask "who?"

WC: 591

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Now that she was close enough, Niamh thought herself foolish to have mistaken the male for her brother. Where Ambrose was almost completely black, save for golden highlights in his mane, this male was clearly more brown with black points. Had her mind been playing a trick on her, or had it simply been the distance between them that had made him look like Ambrose? From far enough away, of course, it would have been easy to mistake one dark wolf for another, and their stature wasn’t too dissimilar. She had truly believed for several moments that she had found her brother, even though he was moving along too well for a wolf who would have been attacked by a cougar only about a week or so ago. Her mind had wanted her not only to see her brother, but to see him well and capable of moving about with ease. It would have been too easy, too good for her to have found him in a condition as well and capable as the male before her.

He tilted his head questioningly, and she shook hers. ”My brother.” She supplied. Perhaps even that was more information than she needed to supply for a stranger, but then again, this fellow could also assist her in her search, knowing that somewhere there was a wolf who looked like him who was missing. ”But his eyes are blue….And he’s darker,” She explained, pointing out the differences between the two of them. Age-wise...Well, Niamh couldn’t guess age well at all. If a wolf was a pup, they were a pup and if they were an adult, they were all grouped into the same age category. ”His name is Ambrose, and he was attacked by a cougar about a week ago, West of here,” She said, slinging her muzzle in the direction, as though to ward the stranger away from that path, if he were to choose to go in that direction. ”He just...Disappeared.” She supplied, though she specifics were a lot more complicated than she let on. There had been blood and fur, but the conflict had happened one day, and it had been several days before Quixote had even happened upon the scene of the crime.

She wasn’t sure if he appreciated the information, or if he might think she was over-sharing simply because she was still emotional over the entire event; she did her best to remain stoic, but regret showed on her features and in her words. If only she’d kept a closer eye on him, and if only the pack hadn’t been so damn focused on finding Ceara...Ambrose might have had someone with him. Or he might not have been out on his own at all..In all likelihood, he’d been out searching for Ceara too, leaving him vulnerable to the attack. Whatever the cause, it left Niamh feeling sore and hurt, full of wishing that things had been different. The quiet stranger before her had simply wandered into a version of Niamh that didn’t know exactly how to process what she was going through, but even just saying those words out loud seemed to help a bit.

Realizing that maybe he hadn’t wanted to know any information at all- and that she might have simply assumed he wanted to know who she was looking for because she wanted him to be curious, she shook her head. ”Sorry. Probably too much information. My bad.” She apologized softly.

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When next she spoke, he shared her gaze, forlorn though it was. Ambrose, a cougar, disappeared. Natjuk listens and stores the information away. On his travels, he might come across this Ambrose. Or a disagreeable feline. Either way, he's not meandering west of here. His experience with cats is zilch and he would like to keep it that way.

By the sound of things, Ambrose was not so lucky...He probably went somewhere else to die, as some wolves preferred to meet their end that way. Sometimes death makes the dying irrational. A sad truth.

Judging by the hurt that wormed its way into her words, Natjuk thinks it best to keep that dismal evaluation to himself. She has done nothing to deserve such cutting words and she was manifestly upset already. No need to add salt to the wound. In response to the girl's stresses, Natjuk eases some of the stoniness in his features. He was a hardass, but not without a heart.

Apologies fall from her lips. Natjuk shakes his head. She wasn't overstepping any boundaries here. No offense taken.

He takes a deep breath as if to speak, stopping when he notices her scent. So, she was a part of that pack he skirted around a couple days back? Okay. He'll send this missing fella back over that way if he wants to be found.

Natjuk, he introduces. You are...? A name for Ambrose should he not believe him.

WC: 346

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Niamh should have considered herself lucky to have come across someone while in the state that she was in who was as considerate and understanding as Natjuk was. He didn’t comment on the disappearance of her brother, or offer condolences when there really wasn’t anything that an apology would do for her at that point. He’d simply taken her mistake in stride and had allowed her to babble at him, giving him information he hadn’t even asked for. For his patience, she was truly appreciative, but she had no way to properly show it. He’d denied her apology, as though she hadn’t caused any harm, though any other wolf might have been upset or distressed that she’d come barreling toward them.

Rather than trying to coddle her and offer her unrealistic wishes of hope, he gave her something that was actually useful to her- a name. He was a lone wolf, she guessed, and she assumed as well that he was the sort who was the silent type...Basically the opposite of what Niamh was. She would sometimes talk without any tact, just because she grappled horribly with finding the right words to say and often substituted more words for succinct ones, like a child trying to fill out the 1000 word quota for an essay.

”Niamh Blackthorn,” She said, not even considering for a moment that he might use her name if he should find Ambrose in his travels. ”My pack is called the Redhawks...We live on the plateau just there; you can sort of see it from here,” She said, gesturing to the highest part of the plateau that was only just visible in the distance. She, of course, was all too familiar with that edge of her home land- she had slipped in the spring rains, earlier on in the year and had sprained her ankle tumbling down that slick slope. ”Do you have a home?” She asked, not simply enquiring if he was a lone wolf- but if he had somewhere that he was going.

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Their lives were short. The way Natjuk sees it, there is ample opportunity to be both nasty and nice in one's lifetime. Now was the time to be kind but neutral; hopeful but anticipating the worst. And he does not know this Ambrose. Would he fight to stay alive or let death take hold? Not an easy question to answer. What tormented lives they experienced...

Niamh Blackthorn of the Redhawks shows him where they dwell, motioning to the tableland through the growth. He's somewhat acquainted with the location but he looks anyway. He does not know of the happenings within Niamh's home. No, nothing like that. Only that the Redhawks are a congregation of wolves and him, a lone wolf.

Niamh asks if he has a home. There is a tightness in his chest at the inquisition.

No, I do not. He is careful to keep his tone steady despite the feelings brewing beneath the surface. Guilt. Sadness. Take your pick.

wc: 290

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The male’s tension was palpable when he answered her question, and she wondered briefly why he’d buttoned up a bit. Was it because the thought of being alone for the winter made him worry, or did he feel that because he was telling her he was a lone wolf that he was then more vulnerable than she was? Her posture remained neutral, exposing nothing but a docile character within who had no interest in harrowing this fellow who’d been fairly kind to her so far. He wasn’t very chatty, and had spoken perhaps one word for every fifteen of hers, and though he was tense...Well, Niamh wasn’t sure exactly why she’d taken a shining to him. Their personalities were the opposite, but he’d prevented what could have been a major shitstorm by simply stating his name...And any wolf who could have that sort of effect on her was worth getting to know.


To put his mind at ease, she bobbed her head in his direction. ”It’s...Gonna be an early and long winter,” She said, as though someone who was actually in control of the weather had stepped out of the heavens and had informed her that that was what they were going to do. ”But...We have some open space in the pack. If you can pull your weight,” She said. Of course, she couldn’t just take in every wolf, and she would have to vouch for every wolf she allowed to join- and this fellow hadn’t done too much to convince her he was the right fit but...Even if she might have been either unaware of it, or in denial of it, but perhaps Niamh was beginning to soften a bit.

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Knowing full well where the conversation is going, he is unable to stop the emotions growing within his breast. Maybe if Niamh knew of his past, she might not have offered. Although! He does not doubt that he would be an asset to the Redhawks. For a time. Then he will have to grapple with how there is a tug each time he places his sights upon some stony prominence. He would be good for the entirety of winter - he's sure of that - but after winter? Who knows.

Despite the conflict warring inside, he appreciates Niamh's minuscule effort to soothe his ails. That, and an offer for shelter. He may very well take her up on that offer should the venture into these lands prove too much.

I just arrived here. It's only been three or four days. He hopes she will understand his desire to discover all candidates, not just one. However, he's curious: Can you tell me more about the Redhawks? What was the pack like? What of their creeds? And what is Niamh's place in the pack?

WC: 502

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New as he was to the area, Niamh still didn’t feel too bad about offering him a home. He seemed decent enough and there was a mildness about his features that proclaimed no devil, so while he would still get a full interview at the border, she saw no harm in inviting a potential pack member to audition, in the very least. He seemed to say that he was new so that she didn’t get her hopes up- and she didn’t mind. It seemed he might want to wander around a bit, see if there was any place that really made him feel comfortable or any wolves who made him feel particularly at home. She was simply the first to offer, she supposed, and he still had time left to wander and meet other wolves before he made any cement decisions.

Naturally, she didn’t want him to wander too much through the Hinterlands and find the other two packs that were starting there, all too close to her plateau. If they gained another member, it was yet another wolf to come up against should they decide to force the other packs out if they decided to try and hunt in their established hunting grounds in the winter. Naturally, Niamh wanted to do this as soon as possible, but she was sure that Quixote wanted to avoid conflict whenever possible whereas Niamh saw conflict as being inevitable; thus why she wanted to get it over with before the other packs gained momentum, more members, and before the snow fell.

She nodded quietly when he asked about her pack, and sent another brief gaze over in the direction of the plateau. ”Our packlands are well protected by the slopes leading up to the plateau,” She said, ”But we have access to two excellent hunting grounds via the North entrance to the pack, through a thicket. So it’s plenty private without being isolated from what we need.” She said. Though she knew he wanted to know more about the pack itself, the location was also a perk that she felt was worth mentioning. It was much easier to keep the pack protected when there was really only one comfortable and easy (and safe) way to breach the borders, and she felt that was fairly important.

”We’re mostly a family pack...But not necessarily by blood. Once you’ve earned a place, you’re family, like it or not,” She said with a dry chuckle. ”We’ve got a good assembly of guardians, hunters, scouts and an excellent medic. I’m the Beta, and I’m one of our guardians,” She said, though there was a slight tinge of regret to her voice- after all, her brother had been attacked by a cougar, and she hadn’t been there to protect him...And Natjuk knew this. She hoped he didn’t read into that situation and assume, then, that she wasn’t proficient at her job. ”Anything else you wanted to know?” She asked.

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She describes her home. He does not recall seeing a thicket, only raised earth. He had been occupied with their numbers at the time. Established packs interest him more than fledgling ones. Although there is a charm in staking a claim and founding a pack alongside those you wish to run with. And there is no shortage of those seeking to establish themselves. Having done so once before with Gnarled Oak Bend, Natjuk finds his interest split in two.

Family. The word bloomed pain afresh. Natjuk keeps it hidden. He'll not languish openly; absolutely not in front of another he just met. He knows nothing of his standing with his family members and that burns him up inside. Would his family forgive him for leaving so soon after his father's impromptu demise? They were the savage sort, not quick to forgive or forget. No, he concluded. No, they would not.

Not really, he rejoins sleekly. Were he a colloquial sort, he would have announced his own professions of fighting and hunting. Pity he's blunted in that department.

I take it you are aware of the forming pack south of your plateau. The creek is not terribly far from the Redhawks but it would bother Natjuk to have neighbors right up his arse. Nonetheless, the statement is there to assess her reaction.

wc:371

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Given that Natjuk didn’t want any more information from her, and the fact that the sun had since set and darkness had begun to creep into the skies, Niamh assumed that the male would be on his way. Whether she saw him again was up to him, really- given that he was the one who was free to roam as he pleased, and he knew where to find her if he wanted to do so. He’d seemed nice enough- perhaps a bit more serious than some of her other packmates, but she suspected that he might actually get along with Quixote quite well. Niamh wasn’t sure why she wanted Natjuk to come and join the pack as much as she didn- maybe it was because she wanted their numbers to increase before winter hit, maybe it was because he’d been kind enough to her, and maybe it was because she did find him to be appealing in the same way a wandering knight would be. Hardened by the road, but certainly far from starving or downtrodden. He was tough, and she liked that about him.

When he brought up the packs to the South she exhaled softly and nodded. She didn’t bother trying to hide her annoyance. ”Yes,” She said, ”One not far South of here and another one pretty much just outside out borders to the West.” She said, and gritted her teeth together slightly, though she was unaware that she was doing it. ”I’ve sent ambassadors to gather intel...But don’t want either group making a claim for our winter hunting grounds.” She said, stiffly. ”So if you do choose to settle in the area...Just be mindful of the fact that we are the established pack out of the three, and we intend to keep our stronghold here over the winter.” She said. She would prefer that either Natjuk chose to join her ranks or that he went somewhere else completely...More wolves joining the Shadewood or Silver Creek gatherings would not be a good thing. She shrugged. ”Many groups have tried to settle nearby, though, but none have successfully made the Hinterlands home but us.” She said.

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So there are two would-be packs around the Redhawks? Not good. Natjuk has never been in a conflict for territory but he knows they do not always end well. The mention of envoys is heeded with a twinge of the ears. Are the wolves around here of more diplomatic leanings? Well, fighting against an established pack may not be wise, but if one has the numbers...he can see confrontations turning to blood very quickly. Winter makes beasts of all.

I will keep an eye out for Ambrose. Might as well. I wish the best for you and yours, Niamh. Darkness swaddles them both. Now may not be an opportune time to hunt but he feels at peace, brought to focus by gloom and stillness. Strangely revitalizing. He turns his back to leave, his pace slow should she wish to speak once more before he disappears into the trees.

wc: 298

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He hadn’t said much, but he’d made a fair enough impression on Niamh that she figured he’d make a decent packmate. He seemed like the quiet sort, who would probably get along best with Quixote...It seemed to Niamh like Quixote was in need of a good buddy- as long as this friend liked Niamh. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if Quixote had a friend who disliked her. She already got the opinion that Quixote didn’t exactly trust her, so she would have to rectify that. Maybe by recruiting a few good, solid packmates she could earn herself a better reputation...Prove that she was worth her rank. Regardless, there was something about Natjuk that Niamh liked. He knew how to listen, and engage another wolf in conversation. She would only realize later that he’d mostly turned the topic on her, and that she hadn’t found out much about him at all...But that was the mark of a considerate wolf; one who sought to listen and provoke conversation, rather than just stealing the spotlight and talking the whole time.

”Thanks Natjuk; I really appreciate that,” She said earnestly. Though it was dark, she did find herself wishing he might accompany her back part of the way to the Plateau, but she also didn’t want to wear out her welcome in his presence. ”Safe travels; and if you find yourself near the plateau...I’ll be around,” She said. What should she have said? That he was welcome to visit her? She couldn’t go about saying that to other males- not where she and Colt were mates. He turned and left, and she truly did hope he travelled well and managed to avoid trouble, so that she might see him again someday.

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