Arrow Lake a simple phrase

@Mahler + @Takiyok

The sharp claws of a mid-autumn breeze scraped mercilessly against Sycamore's skin. Winter was quickly approaching, leaving him with less time than he'd planned for. Prey was already scarce and as populations continued to dwindle, he couldn't imagine that his chances of being accepted would increase. 

The morning prior, he'd sniffed out an abandoned fox den. It took less than a full morning to expand it enough for basic comfortability, at which point he'd decided to camp out until evening. Spending time nearby gave him the chance to guess how well-kept the territory was, if it was still kept at all. The borders weren't as strong as some of the others he'd passed by; either this claim was fresh or he'd just missed an opportunity.

Nonetheless, once evening came and the sun began to set, Sycamore made a hasty, albeit cautious approach. A brief pause, then a summoning howl was sounded. In preparation, the shadow lowered himself for whoever might approach.

Again she returned the the ruins of their first home here, unwilling to give up hope that she might find any of her children here and unable to keep herself from visiting the graves of her fallen family members. As with every prior search, she found nothing—not a damn thing. There was no evidence that any of her missing children had returned here looking for her, and even though each unsuccessful search caused despair to swell in her chest until she felt suffocated, she wouldn't give up. Sullen and exhausted, she padded through the desolate territory, stopping every so often to inspect a crumbled piece of mountain or the scent of some small prey animal that had moved through, but nothing caught her interest for very long. Until the howl sounded across the deserted territory. The Kapitän paused and looked towards the sound, seconds later proceeding forward in the direction from which it had come. 

She found the shadow near the borders, which already diminished her irritation at finding someone else here. They may have left, but she was reluctant to relinquish her control over the decimated territory. She wondered if he had called for a Diasporan like the last wolf to send out a summons here. In case that was his intention, she came to a stop in front of him, offering him her usual shrewd gaze before asking: Who do you call for?

The footsteps of the alabaster stranger were heard long before before her voice. It was assertive, censorious, and sent a chill halfway down Sycamore's spine. A moment of silence passed wherein he raised himself only enough to get one more whiff of the fading marker.

Is this your claim? he asked, then briefly shifting his gaze to that of the stranger. The potential danger surrounding the situation kept his guard high; it took an astounding effort for Sycamore to maintain his outward calm.

She studied the man for a few moments before speaking, noting his deference and meeting his gaze confidently when his eyes sought hers. She spoke as he looked away. It was before the mountains crumbled and forced us to move, she answered, the resentment clear in her tone. It would be a long time before she would be able to let that go and even longer before she would stop coming here. But you didn't answer my question, the Kapitän added impatiently. Are you seeking the leaders of this claim? she asked, irritated that she had to repeat herself. Again, it was odd how similar this situation was to the last time she had found someone here. If so, then you've got one.

There was a rising irritation in the assumed Alpha's voice. Of the possible scenarios Sycamore had imagined, this hadn't been one of them; he wondered if there was anything left of this first impression to be salvaged. The rogue squirmed uncomfortably. Relax, he thought to himself, They aren't all like him.

Sycamore rolled his shoulders back only enough to position himself in an awkward quasi-seated position. Although the shadow maintained his focus on the ground, he watched the stranger carefully with timed glances.

My name, he began, voice level and smooth, is Sycamore. I'm willing to take up any trade that you may need. It was a nicer way to say, I am completely untrained and have never been this far from home before, please help. 

Despite what she perceived to be nervousness, she still regarded him with some suspicion. You could just never be sure in times like these when prey was scarce and everyone was on edge. But intrigue diminished her irritation a little. His offer was generous; it implied that he could be molded into whatever Diaspora needed. She considered his words for a few quiet moments, gaze never leaving the stranger. Right now, we need wolves to help us protect the pack. The earth had been silently lately, but there was still no prey and an unknown thief stealing what little little they had managed to store in their caches. Have you ever fought to protect something before? she asked, studying him. He looked young but not too young; he definitely seemed old enough to have some experience, she thought

The length of Sycamore's body tremored at the thought of mercenary work. There was little to no muscle lining his bones which, were it not for a thickening winter coat, would lay visible beneath his skin. Tactical pursuits were his specialty; he was cunning and quick-footed, but weak. 

It doesn't matter, he thought to himself, She doesn't know that. If I don't tell her, she won't know. 
If nothing else, Sycamore was good at slipping through the cracks.

I worked shifts between the caches of my last group, he replied, It was good experience, but that's the extent of my training. The shadow took a moment to log the lie he'd just told -- guard caches, basic training, guard caches, basic training -- while he waited for her reply.

He trembled at her words, and her brows drew together in confusion. He didn't seem terribly brave, and she wondered if he would act similarly when faced with a stranger on the borders. But then he explained that he helped guard caches for his old pack. Good, she answered. Someone was able to get within our borders not too long ago and made it to one of our caches, so we could use that kind of experience. She paused and looked him over a little skeptically. We can train you to fight, though, as long as you're willing to learn. To her, it was that simple: he needed to learn a skill, so they would teach him. She worked under the assumption that anyone could be taught anything as long as the drive to learn was present. It didn't occur to her that maybe some needed direction as to what skills they should learn.

An inkling of concern began to build but was quickly quieted. Were their borders so poorly kept that a stranger could acheive such a risky feat? Sycamore wondered if their forces had been enough to stop the thief or if they'd gotten away. 

I am, he replied, My name is Sycamore. The name rolled off of his tongue with ease, as though he'd been practicing all of his life. In reality, he'd only been rehearsing the exchange for just over a week. Impressive, he thought.

Good, she thought. Sometimes, the willingness to learn was all that was needed, but they would soon find out if that was all he needed to become a good fighter. She gave a curt nod in response to his introduction. I am Takiyok, Diaspora's Kapitän. We reside in the hollow to the south now. She turned and faced the direction of their temporary home, looking back to Sycamore to say: Follow me; I'll lead you there, and you can get settled. She began to walk but paused and turned her fiery gaze back on him. Welcome to Diaspora, she added with a raised eyebrow. Then she turned and began walking again, trusting that he would stay close so that he wouldn't get lost on the way home.