Permafrost Hollows you cannot swallow a life that large

a the vartija founding thread || border patrol for @Faeryn

dawn is just reaching it's peak when wintersbane begins his patrol along the marked borders, the hollows still painted in the cast of the moonbeams even as the sun begins it's slow, peeking ascent in the horizon. the tundrian's breath leaves his lips in writhing tendrils of steam that unfurl in the frigid air. it's refreshing from the stale and damp air of the tunnel and cavern system beneath the hollows but at least the air is warmer beneath the earth, heated by the hotspring somewhere deeper in the grotto. he hasn't found that particular cavern yet but it's a low priority in the wake of everything else that needs sotaherra's attention. patrolling, recruiting, regularly checking in on the vartija's foundlings, resource scouting and herd tracking and cache filling. those things all took priority over exploring the still unknowns of the hollow's map.

those blanks would fill themselves, given time. wintersbane tries not to let their small numbers discourage him — progress is still progress even if it is slow and he thinks that eventually their numbers would have to begin to swell. there were a lot of packs in the wilds already, a lot of them full or close to filling; and with the influx of them in the western regions he hopes ( regardless of how cruel! ) that their over population will constrict like a noose around them and drive prey away ...which would, in the end, drive wolves to his doorstep. at least, that is how it would work out in his strategic thought process — though he knows that nothing hardly ever falls to plan so predictably.

all was fair in love and war, after all ( though he might feel a bit different if he knew his daughter was currently cooking in elixir's oven in a pack he deems in one of the 'overpopulated' zones).

he treads the border, pausing at places to bow his head to inspect at the scents and to strengthen them as needed, content to brood ( and plan, for whatever good that did ) in the serene silence of the early morning.

thank you for starting <3

The coalescence of vibrant paint showered the sky in rich hues, drawing Faeryn steadily from her slumber; melding of orange and blue filtered the teekon in darkly saturated tones, and the sylph eyed the sun as it began to rise, converting the tangerine to gold. Fog had settled like a dragon's breath over the Taiga, thick slithers of mist to mask countless secrets amongst the haze, the Sotaherra sliding discreetly into such a category.

The Renoda didn't notice him at first, a smudge of charcoal amongst the low-lying clouds, but thankfully, his scent alerted her to his presence. Though she was settled into an unfamiliar land, she did not intend to turn tail and flee - the sylph had made a deal with the tundrian, and though it had been a spur-of-the-moment gamble, she would stick to it. Sometimes, it was refreshing to give in, to be a little reckless, and the crisp scenery provided her with a wave of relief. New start number...-

Anyway. A gentle chuff slithered from her lips to the wind, willowy figure gliding through the fog to emerge at his side; patrolling was something she hadn't been required to envelop herself in for many moons - there'd been no need, when stranded on an island bordered by the ocean, and so she sought to realign herself with the activity, sweeping cerulean eyes over the smoky man's features.

"Mind if I join you?"

no problem! <3

patrolling is an effortless routine to wintersbane, therapeutic in some ways. he keeps his ears, nose and eyes alert for anything that seems out of ordinary, awakening the primal and feral instinct as his mind switches to a version of night mode to allow him to ruminate upon events and categorize them. an umbra ear twitches back, towards his left shoulder at the sound of approaching footfalls from within the hollow. too light to be derg and he thinks it is either the engimatic girl, keen or his gladiator pupil, faeryn.

a glimpse is given over broad shoulder as the chuff extends to him next. faeryn, then. the silvery-blue sylph takes up his flank with an inquiry. not at all. wintersbane responds before his gaze flickers back to the neutral territory just beyond the scent markers. a shadow slinks low to the evergreen treeline — wintersbane's hackles bristle on instinct — and disappears with an eerie yip. a fox on the prowl for its last meal before it bunkered down to weather the day. his bristled nape hairs smooth and he lets out a low snort of amusement.

there hadn't been much time for them to talk prior to the fertility festival and he is glad for the opportunity to check in with her now. how're you settling? wintersbane inquires, earnest in his approach and hoping for an honest answer. things were a bit chaotic and the majority of the work that came along with founding a pack was shouldered by the three of them currently based in the hollow. it's hard work but the sotaherra is confident that it will pay off when their numbers are bolstered and they have a final claim.

Azure eyes followed the trail of her mentor's own as the fox's shadow lingered, only to dissipate into the undergrowth with a yip. Conversation was relatively quick to follow, and the siren inclined her chin back toward Wintersbane as the gruff timbre of his tongue reached up to her wispy ears - the inquiry is one she fiddled with in her mind for a moment, considering what had come to pass during her time with the crew; not much, it's true, but regardless of the work involved, the quietude aided in easing the clench of her spirit.

"Well, I think," she mused aloud, a mellifluous slip of words to greet his query. "It's quiet, which... has its benefits at the moment." The sea sprite would never take for granted the peace that silence could provide, but she knew all too well the perilous drop that could concur if it lasted too long. "I was meaning to ask, when it comes to recruiting... is that something you'd rather handle yourself, or would you like me to keep a look out, too? Bring you someone if they seem like they'd be good fit?" Talking was not her prime talent, among the array of potential habits, but she made an effort; if only to be approachable, to show that she was willing to shoulder her own part of the bargain. Amongst all of her indecisiveness, Faeryn was not a disloyal wolf.

their distance from the more populated regions of the wilds brings with it it's own concern, voiced by derg and now faeryn. concerns that, despite his confidence that it would have to eventually work in their favor, wintersbane has not entirely dismissed. he's had them himself, after all. it has it's pros and it's cons certainly; and for the moment the pros far outweighed the cons in his mind. if it looked like it would not he was not beyond relocating. for now, he wasn't too willing to give up the taiga and it's perks of being the lone ( forming ) pack in it's region.

he offers a soft hum of acknowledgement and a small nod meant to communicate 'i'm glad you're settling well' or something of a similar effect. anyone is welcome to assist with recruitment. he tells faeryn simply. when i was the recruiter of blackfeather woods, that wasn't the complete truth but even now, in the wake of it all, he still feels a bound loyalty to the dark brotherhood. it is, in part, why he still wears the blood-red paw print upon his shoulder. i had more failures than successes. of course, circumstances are vastly different. the vartija doesn't have secrets, for one. he continues with a cheeky little grin that tugs at the edges of his lips.

so far, i've had more luck recruiting for the vartija. which was promising, in his personal opinion, considering the vartija was a ...lot more personal to him and not just because he was it's sotaherra. it was interwoven with everything that kept lotte's memory alive, the full embrace of his proud tundrian ancestry.

While the low baritones rumbled through the air, the siren found herself watching his expression, eager to see what the tundrian would make of her words - it was not of the direst importance, but she had come to realise how cut off she had been from the rest of the world while wrapped in the sea's royal embrace; so little contact she'd had with others. Even her interactions with others of the Undersea crew had been scarce, few and far between - so she managed to snare herself in the trap of watching him speak, rather than fully listening, tracing the movements of his lips.

Mention of blackfeather woods had her wispy ears perk upon a blue-tinged crown, snapping from her thoughts, but she made no comment of it; her own knowledge of the shadowed group was close to nothing. Only the name was vaguely distinguishable, perhaps from passing talk when she still resided on the mainland. Before Undersea, so long ago. 

"That's good, then," the tuneful hum of consideration, slipping out as a gust of wind shuddered through the treeline - branches rattled, but she ceased to watch them. "Who else is here already?"

if she recognizes the name blackfeather woods she doesn't comment upon it and wintersbane's almost relieved. he doesn't want his past to keep the vartija from forming because the wolves he recruits or attempts to choose not to trust him. he wants to be transparent with those that choose to follow him, though, and doesn't necessarily want to hide it from them either. after all, he still wears and refreshes the blood-red paw print upon his left shoulder when the plant dye begins to fade. it was their mark before he'd made it his own. he didn't regret the time he'd spent in their ranks as an adult, though he spent most of his adolescence running from them and from the kill order he'd no doubt had on his head. even if nyx remembers him he looks nothing like the pale cream puff cub she'd taken beneath her wing so many moons ago.

i like to think so, wintersbane quips with a tease of his lips into a small smile. well, there's derg. i recruited him while i was scouting this territory out back before i'd made up my mind of where to claim. it wasn't like there was a shortage of territories in the taiga to choose, after all. and there's a man i recruited on the coast, vonn. he hasn't made it here yet but he had a debt to a pack he needed to repay before he could join us. he's also on recruitment duty while he's repaying his debt. not that wintersbane's particularly clear on what his 'repaying his debt' was other than it wasn't what wintersbane first thought it'd been.

and then there's an older cub, keen. i'm not sure if she'll be staying with us or not. regardless, she's under our care and protection while she's with us and she's permitted to stay with us for as long as she needs or wants. more or less, a the vartija honorary. not that he thought faeryn was going to do anything to the girl but he still had to put it out there, just to soothe his own protective and paternal instincts; strong as they were.

i'm thinking that the packs to the west will have to be feeling the repercussions of their overpopulation soon. if they do, that could work in our advantage. the taiga is unclaimed except for us and the herds and prey are plentiful, the resources and hunting grounds for us are unlimited. we are truly the wardens of the taiga. a small smirk tugging at the edges of his lips at the irony; and even if other packs did mosey their way east to the taiga he had every intention of trying to strike business deals with them; in a way that is eerily reminiscent of his mobster father.

Her chin dipped nimbly in acknowledgement as the tundrian began to list the wolves who tagged along not only by name, but also circumstance - Faeryn was appreciative that he talked more than herself, at least in this instance; partly because she was not the most adept with words upon her tongue, but also because his voice reminded her of a brewing storm, the warning before the waves would swell and the sea would repent against the ties of the world. Despite the perlious danger of an ocean caught in vexation, it was a comfort to the blue siren. A memory that she could retain from her island days.

Then came more discussion of strategy, a tactition's musing, spilling from his ebony muzzle. "Smart," she hummed lightly, before her lips quirked into a graceful, fluid smile of her own. "You sound like you've thought a lot about this." A broad statement accompanied by a half-chuckle, one open for further discussion or to shift into another subject, all at his disposal. She minded not where the talk drifted as they trekked the borders.

faeryn's comment brings a soft smile to his lips as they continue along the border, wintersbane mindful of his long strides. i have, he affirms, salmon pink tongue drawing across his lips. doesn't mean i'm going to be right though. he acknowledges with a casual rise and fall of his shoulders. and there's always the possibility that packs will begin to flock to the taiga to escape overpopulation. which would only mean that the taiga would eventually become as overpopulated as the rest of the wilds. there was only so many places they could run before it all became overpopulated and short of leaving the wilds all together it was just a possibility the vartija would have to face. only time would tell if they'd get off the ground, if they'd withstand what the wilds and other packs had to throw their way.

nothing's certain, if there was one thing that wintersbane's learned in his life it was that. all we can do is prepare to the best of our abilities. but right now his priorities was ensuring the current members of the vartija were doing well, border marking, cache building and recruiting. founding a pack was far from easy and it gave him a new merit of respect for the wolves that founded all the packs in the wilds he'd taken advantage of. it was easy to lead a pre-established pack but building something from the ground was a true test of leadership and devotion of the wolves that followed and aided in it.

The Renoda was pleased to have brought a smile to his lips, though her cerulean gaze flashed back toward the shadowed treeline, drinking in the appearance of settling fog, which had masked the area in a cloak of mystery. "Perhaps, but at least you've thought about what could happen. Some alphas I've had in the past didn't look ahead enough, and it resulted in their downfall." She had been an alpha herself, once upon a time - part of the council of Undersea, until she'd become sick and fallen from her place. Her rank had been whisked away by another, and though part of her could not blame the crew for their decision, the island didn't feel as welcome as it once had.

Plush ears tilted back upon her crown, eager to hear his own words as he shared them into the wind. "You can't prepare for everything, but it's good to be aware." the seawolf nodded softly in agreement, as a breath of frigid air licked down her spine and shivered the fur of her tail; spring would grow upon the land soon enough, but she doubted the chill would clear for quite some time. A simple prediction, from one who enjoyed watching the patterns of the weather.

sometimes i wonder if wolves really know what goes into being an alpha, wintersbane considers, going off of her mentioning that she knew of previous alphas that hadn't thought ahead. i think sometimes they just look at the power and nothing else. it's not just about being the big boss and everyone having to answer to them. all the final decisions fall on the alpha, they are responsible for the lives of every single wolf in their pack and their decisions could affect the pack for better or for worse. sure, they get the praise when things are good but it's the times of turbulence when an alpha's true measure is tested. and thus far he hasn't been overly impressed by what he's seen when it came to alpha's. it was hard for him to be loyal when the alpha takes a back seat to everything, or when it seemed like they just wanted the power and nothing else.

and i think that when someone better to lead comes along, they're too wrapped up in pride or the power to admit that they should take a step back. would it be easy, if that ever came to be for wintersbane? hell no. pride was a bitter pill and it didn't go down smooth; but wintersbane liked to think that he'd be able to put the vartija first, even if that meant stepping down for someone else to do his job better than him.

but, he draws on a breath, steering the conversation from his strong ideas about how an alpha should be to the original topic of the taiga and the possibility of future overpopulation. it doesn't seem like the taiga is a favourite region to settle so maybe we'll get lucky and never face the impending consequences of overpopulation. he could only hope that that remained the case but ultimately time would tell.

Faeryn fell silent as Wintersbane filled the quietude with his speech, of how best to be an alpha, how to admit when you were not as fit to lead as you once were, and it was this statement that forced her lips part again; eager to share what little knowledge she had on the subject. There was something particularly pleasing to the siren about maintaining a conversation - an odd statement, but true nonetheless. Undersea had grown quieter over the moons, and none of her past packs had aided in boosting her skill at conversational topics. To speak with the tundrian was, admitedly, refreshing.

"I helped lead on the island, once," the former Ahklut mused, gaze whisking away toward the mist as it curled around her forelimbs like a ribbon of dusty white. "For a time beta, then alpha, but we eventually stopped using the traditional ranks and called the four leaders the council - I was still part of it at the time." A fracture of her heart longed to watch the rolling waves again, dipping and rising in shivers of fathomless cerulean, but the prospect of seeking her purpose was of the utmost importance. Her endless journey. "I had a high rank for a long time, but when I got really sick, I knew it was best to step down. Can't say it didn't wound my pride just a little bit, but-" a whisp of a soft laugh cascaded from her tongue before continuing, "I think it was the right thing to do. I hope it was. Another wolf took my place." She hadn't known Moorhen particularly well, but if she had Seelie and Stockholm's respect, then she could claim the Renoda's, too.

As for sickness - maybe not what most figures would conjure in their mind at the word after listening to her explanation of what had occured, but perhaps her mentor could weedle such information from her at another time.

Pixie-ears swivelled back to attention as the naturalist's focus was snatched from her thoughts, chin dipping in a nod once more. "Let's hope so." She'd hate to see all this planning and preparation go to waste, and she'd rather not have to relocate (not to say she'd abandon the troupe) - with any hope, the sotaherra was correct. Faeryn liked it here, and she liked Wintersbane, too; not only did he show appealing leadership qualities, but his company was simply nice.

wintersbane is respectfully quiet and attentive as faeryn offers her own insight and with it, a bit more about her past. admittedly, he only knows that she was once apart of the pack called undersea and, of course, that she decided to leave them for the vartija. while it wasn't ever his intention to steal wolves from other packs he tells himself that he didn't steal her and thus doesn't feel true guilt over it. he doesn't feel like he'd manipulated her: he'd have taught her how to fight either way. admittedly, it'd have been a bit hard being so far away but he'd have worked it out somehow. she'd left undersea of her own free will — he'd simply provided her with a choice.

she spoke that she'd helped lead it. once and that when she got sick she chose to step down. as hard as it was, i think you did the right thing. you weren't physically capable of being your best for them at that time, wintersbane interjects, voice quiet and thoughtful. there's no shame in admitting you needed time to recover. the physical body could only be pushed so hard. would faeryn not have chosen to step down she might've literally worked herself to her death and then what? the undersea wolves would've had a body to bury and presumably mourned the loss of her life. sometimes i think that if we hold onto something so tightly we either kill it or ourselves. he murmurs, thinking now of blackfeather woods, of teaghlaigh. he knows enough of arturo to know he'd never relinquish total control of the family ...had that been it's ultimate downfall?

in regards to the potential of overpopulation, wintersbane knows that ultimately only time would tell. regardless, he fully intends for the vartija to withstand the storm if it decided to veer their way, even if that meant hostility towards neighbors and those that would trespass on chosen hunting grounds. the vartija was his first priority and he would put them first above other packs, ( potential ) alliances be damned. the pair then fall into silence and continue on with the patrol.