Swiftcurrent Creek so in the clear will appear that black swan

from fox's glade and the territories directly touching it's 'borders' — where falquan had spent the week — he moves northwest despite being largely unsure of which way aurëwen had gone. her trail is long lost and the tirn is left, while not necessarily dejected, certainly disappointed. he doesn't know if the path he chooses to take in what has become a desperate manhunt for rhaesuial's heiress will lead him to her but the territories surrounding the scene of the crime left him empty pawed and with more questions than answers. a start was a start ...even if it led him on a cold path.

though he'd made an exaggerated effort to avoid borders and pack territories, falquan approaches the creek's borders slow, posture neutral but with an insistency in his steps that belayed he was a man on a mission. they were close(ish) enough to the glade that he considered — hoped, rather — that maybe one of their's saw something. a guardian or a scout. it was a sliver of a chance ...but that was all he had at the moment and if his time training among the elite of the queensglaive had taught him anything it was that everything was under investigation until every potential lead, regardless of how small, was followed and thusly exhausted.

with this in mind, falquan readjusts his position ensuring there is more than ample distance between their border markings and his body, tips his head back and announces his presence while subsequently calling for an audience with one of the pack's wolves.

the call is not directed toward the leaders specifically, and so she uses the excuse the rise and makes her way towards the sound with loping trot, breath coming quickly and stride off-balance. she wants nothing more than to birth them as soon as possible, for with each day does she feel less like an individual and more like a walking incubator. in her dreams, she is as she was months ago. she does not know what she ever envied pregnant mothers, longer to bear children, save the fact it seemed to offer stability and a chance at the kind of familiar love she'd lost. 

when she reaches the man, pain lances through her side. it is sharp and more intense than any of the earlier spasms, nor does it fade as quickly as them. she exhales through clenched teeth, pausing, and regarding the stranger then. she dips her head in greeting, moving to recline on her haunches. "you called?" she offers a curve of her muzzle, but it is a smile undercut by pain that only barely seems to be fading. 

as the the silver pelaged woman approaches him from within the territory there is a brief moment where falquan is taken aback; for no other reason than the fact that she is blatantly heavily pregnant. in fact, she looks like she's about ready to pop at any given second. following his surprise, is a mixture of weariness — haunting jack-o-lantern gaze scanning the terrain behind her for a protective, hostile mate — and concern that is easily placed as a sentinel himself. do the wolves of this pack always let their pregnant women patrol the borders? immediately, albeit unfairly, it forces him to question the leadership of this place.

she speaks to him in the common tongue, politely encouraging him to be forward about his reason for calling with a curve of her lips that does not touch her eyes. falquan tries not to let his gaze linger for too long, still unconvinced that a hostile male won't come rushing him in a few seconds though the mother-to-be's in no danger from him. ah yes — it's been a long time since he's spoken the common tongue with any sort of fluency. as it is, it feels clumsy on his tongue ( and that was only one, simple word ). there was a ... fight? accident? fight in the territory just southwest of here about a week ago, he gestures towards fox's glade with his muzzle. there was blood and a mixture of scents though i'm only interested in finding one of the wolves involved. i've lost the trail and i was wondering if maybe one of your scouts or guardians saw something or came across her.

he still feels like it's a long shot but he's out of any other option. she's small, pale furred. has scars across her face. he describe aurëwen, hesitating only at the name if only because he's unsure whether she'd go by it or an alias. goes by aure or aurëwen.

the male explains his purpose here in accented tongue, and while she at first is prepared to offer him all she knows (which is to say, nothing) she is made hesitant. "why are you looking for her?" her gaze is hawkish, she doesn't like much the idea of a man like the one before her searching for a woman of Aure's description. it sounds like she'd had a hard time of it already and Dawn won't indirectly add to her hurt by potentially sending this man nearer to her. 

he's certainly a little desperate to find her is he's come calling at random borders, and she hopes this will have him reveal his intentions easily enough.

her hawkish gaze and hesitance that follows her question tells falquan that the woman has the wrong idea of why he's looking for aurëwen. admittedly, he isn't capable of looking at himself — except, perhaps, in the distorted ripple of a stream or creek which was not a reliable mirror — but he knows he's riddled with scars. fierce, perhaps. maybe even there is a feral air to him that suggests he is full of bad intentions — and he is ...to anyone who threatens the royal family. falquan draws back though, insulted by the unspoken assumption. i am her mahtanë, he racks his brain for a common translation knowing that even though he could find one it would do a lackluster job of communicating what that simple word otherwise meant to those of rhaesuial. her protector. i have been tasked with being her shield-and-sword since i was born and trained for nothing else. his devotion is bloodborne. his family line: all sentinels, has served hers faithfully and unfalteringly for generations and falquan would not be the one that fails.

she wants to know more, specifically, what kind of protector allows their protectee to get into a bloody fight. but she's not nosey, and feels father disgusting a crampy and has no longing to drag this out. he seems sincere enough, and she considers herself a good judge of character. "she's not been here. but there are two packs nearby - one in the Stone Circle, Easthollow, and another in the mountains. both aren't far from where she was attacked." she's hungry, to, and while she feels for this woman she is not her blood nor is she in any way bound to her, and so hopes the male will take the proffered information and be on his way. it's not very ambassador-like of her, but she's fat and sore and so excuses it.