Cricket Creek Bog amgylchynu

Stepping into the bog is much like traveling between enemy lines. Where the scents were once scarce, now there are many, and on all sides. She takes care not to traipse accidentally across a border and set off diplomatic chaos that could lead to her demise. God knows how these wolves feel about Mynydd. She will be lucky if they have never heard of it at all.

The quiet croaking of frogs accompanies her journey here. It is a strange combination of eerie and peaceful. While Seren does not favor it, it is a refreshing change from forest after forest; she does appreciate some diversity in scenery.

The frogs, though, remind her of Llewellyn. They used to catch them, as children. Well, Seren caught them; Llewellyn only tried. He might be her better in every other skill set, but he never was able to topple her in the art of frog-catching. She always did, and always would, reign supreme in that arena.

She laughs aloud, thinking of it, and knows that any who watch from the shadows must think her crazy, or at the very least, daft. As long as it draws attention to her and her queries, she is fine with any misconceptions, so long as they do not turn violent.

He was fucking desperate. He needed to add to the woods, or else the nearer packs would encroach even more on their space, and he simply wasn’t willing to leave the woods. They were full of game, hearty and well warmed from the heavy and thick trees that surrounded and filled the woods. It was nigh junglesque, and it hadn’t run dry. Should other wolves manage to learn of how plentiful the woods were, there would surely be a war over the lands - and how would Cry win a war without soldiers? 

The ebonian bled as a shadow through the tangle of woods and more tundras as he searched high and low for scents of other wolves. Though he hadn’t considered Colt a threat, all wolves fought for lands and territory. Cry wanted to raise his family in those woods, and be damned anyone trying to stop him. Almost on to mania, the ex-Assassin scoured the grounds for pawprints like a hunter of their kind would. And apparently,
he did it well.

Frigid irises snapped to a set of prints that began to lead over to the wetlands of Tutku, and his dark heart leapt forward a few beats. A swift scan around illusioned the man into a belief that this wolf was alone- 
this was clearly luck. 

So forward, he pursued this mystery, completely throwing out the possibility that this could be yet another trap. He was willing to risk it. 

“Hello?” He called out, hoping to not only be heard, but considered.

He brings to mind the shadow of Rhys, and she shudders, taking a step back automatically. Still, it is not him, and Seren dips her head, returning his greeting politely and quietly. It takes her a moment to find her words; when she does, they are in hushed tones, wary. 

Hello, she says. She fixes her sapphire stare on him, sizing him up. She cannot ask about her brother until she is sure. . . Are you familiar with the land of Mynydd?

The question is cryptic, to be sure, but the answer will be telling. Any glint of recognition in his eyes and she will flee. Seren no longer has the luxury of trusting those with knowledge of her homeland. Anyone and everyone is a danger.

And then, there he was. In the presence of the one he had stalked out of the brush. Glacial eyes danced over golden sheen that remarkably glinted in the light of the early morn, and he is rather impressed by their size. Though he had lacked the weight of most larger wolves, he matched with height and agility. 

Auds trained on her words, and he nodded appreciatively to her greeting. Atleast the female was friendly. However, as his eyes crossed hers, his heart began t yearn. Those eyes...they were exactly as Gwen's, a deep and forever mezmorizing sapphiric blue. He pulled his mind from the tiepool that threatened to swallow him so quickly, and returned to the conversation at hand. 

A tilted crown at the name, him trying no not scrunch his face up at the confusion. "I'm sorry," he replied genuinely, not knowing this topic was danger to the heart and mind of the girl. "I don't." Was he supposed to? "Did you need help finding them, miss?" It was the least he could offer on the subject. He felt partial to helping her...though she had Gwen's eyes, she was defintiely a strange. But one he surely needed.

She lets out a breath, slowly, in relief. Perhaps it shows upon her face, but much more in the relaxation of her shoulders as she shifts, blinking. There had been no recognition in the man's face that she could see—none whatsoever. At this juncture, at least, she is safe.

No, she answers, that is not what I seek. I am looking for my brother. Llewellyn. He looks exactly like me, though broader. Have you seen him?

Her eyes are wide and guileless, on the verge of pleading. Now that she is past the first test, the desperation rises. He is the first soul she has spoken to in these lands, and if her luck should turn, he might know where the prince resides. But her luck has been shoddy thus far, and so her hopes are not high.

Seren, though, has always been a dreamer. . .

Watching her reactions, Cry felt out the waves as they came. It seemed as though she was relying on him not knowing whoever that was. Sensing that helped him achieve a closer opportunity to having her on his side, Cry settled himself on stepping carefully on the hardening ice.

”There are quite a few packs settled near our own - we could assist you in your search. But we’re a bit further from this place.”

Cry nodded at the woman, his offer sliding across the table unhurriedly and nonchalant. “Should you like refuge with us, we would be able to search with and for you, if it of dire matter.”

While they searched, he might even be be able to recruit while on the hunt for her doppelgänger.

Her ears perk in interest when he speaks of other packs, but then the offer comes to settle. No, no. She will not even consider it. There is work to be done. She shakes her head, shooting the man an apologetic look as she does so.

I am sorry, sir, but once I find my brother, we must leave immediately, Seren says quietly. She fixes her sapphire gaze on him in a desperate plea. If you do see him, please tell him Seren is looking for him. Tell him to call for me. She will hear him. She knows he will hear him.

The once-princess turns to leave, dipping her muzzle to him. Thank you for your assistance, she tells him solemnly. Good day to ye, sir.

She splashes away through the bog, ignoring the way the muck sticks to her feet. All she knows is forward.