Shadow Mountain unpleasantville

Night fell so early these days, and that threw off his internal clock beyond how skewed it usually was; he was wired, flighty and unable to calm himself down enough to sleep, even though he knew deep down he should be trying. He roamed instead. Trying to tire himself out by hiking foreign paths laced with alien scents, like he was trying to piece together what remained of his life and make sense of it. He was in mourning and didn't know it; filled with an enduring sorrow for the loss of the forest and the inherent sadness of his beloved, which he could not cure. He knew they would need time... Maegi more-so than himself, or so he thought.

Diaspora lay claim to the hollow and their scents were thick, mixing well with the pine forest and the terroir of the stony earth; but it was claustrophobic for him, more-so than the tunnels beneath the dark wood. Stronger than when he had lived beneath the earth, plagued by the void-thing which had once tried to eat him (a bear, but, Mou's never seen things straight). He needed to get out of the area for a while and so he did, working his way down one slope or another, until he was outside the constraints of the pack's claim; he was close to the path Maegi had led him along — and at a fork in the road, he chose the other path.

There was no sense of time here; everything was blanketed with white, and the snow was falling in thin flurries like peeled dandruff. It collected across his silver shoulders, flecked the dark mask on his face with white. It was peaceful here despite the darkness that once persisted (perhaps still did), and Mou found solace in the act of creeping along in the night.

Bored with the taiga, Kiwi had turned to the mountains.

It seemed that here there were at least more wolves, and she had to skirt a claim or two as she wandered the peaks.  She was not looking to displace another leader yet, and still hoped to form a home of her own, but she noted them all the same.  She'd always been a believer in keeping tabs on your rivals.

She was intent on finding shelter from the snow tonight, and she shook with distaste every time it settled enough to being seeping through her pelt.  Mou was silent and went unnoticed by her, at least for now, as she paused and took stock of the steep inclines around.  Surely in the rougher reaches there would be a cave of some sort.

The subtle movement of something in the snow caused him to stop, listen, and watch (as best he could with the one eye) until something shifted in his periphery. It wasn't enough to launch him in to a run or anything, but he became more cautious with his approach. The snow was illuminated with an eerie ambiance - the kind of dull glow you see late in to the night regardless of the stars or moon - with the sky becoming a muddy orange overhead.

He moved on within moments. Pursuit of food was high on his list of priorities now - he felt warm saliva creep across his gums - but the snow was irregularly deep, so much so that the stilted man had to fight through it as he slipped around a bend. He sought out the exposed stonework whenever possible, scrambling with his dulled claws when the iced segments between the gravel or the crags became too difficult. A small flurry of dark rock fell in to the snow alongside his route but it was muffled, the kinetic energy absorbed by the snow.

Although he did manage to get close enough to a well-scented (but narrow) path carved in the snow, which showed promise. Mou followed this doggedly as it crept along the rocky hillside, and when the snow gave way to shadows and granite, he took a few deep breaths and began to put his tracking skills to use. He knew it was a wolf by this point - or something close, anyway. Small, warm, alive, and actively roaming this space just ahead of him somewhere... But he couldn't find her yet.

Similar to Mou, at length Kiwi sensed something behind her.  It immediately made her nose wrinkle with agression.  She didn't like the thought of anything sneaking around in the space she chose to walk, so she whirled about to face it.

Likely he'd grown close by this point; he was a ghost, but she was decidedly more corporeal than that.

Who'se there? she snapped out sharply, and the exclamation echoed down the mountain path.  It was not smart perhaps for her to bring so much attention to herself alone but she was still at an age where fight was her primary instinctual response. Her entire body was tensed and her bright green gaze strained to see anything in the dim, snow fallen light.

What struck him most was the scent's strength. It wasn't uncommon for Mou to encounter scents he did not know, he was living in a new space with people he did not feel comfortable with and so his nerves were a bit frayed by their presence, but this was different. It wasn't layered; he couldn't find any trace of Mahler's musk or the scent of Takiyok. There was nothing but this singular scent trailing through the warm air. Mou pursued it like a moth chasing a flame — not sure what he planned to do if he caught up to it, but, eager to track the stranger down.

It was fortunate that they paused. Perhaps they knew he was on their trail somehow, light as his steps were Mou did not know the area very well and he was no mountaineer, so he likely made a few obvious mistakes along the way. He was very close when the sound of the stranger's voice burst through the stillness. The voice felt all the more volatile for being the only sound in the narrow vicinity of the trees, and Mou couldn't help but twist his ears against the feel of it; invasive, almost painful sounding.

He slunk among the frozen ferns and piles of snow, emerging with measured steps in the manner of a cautious deer; his one good eye lively and bright as he looked around for the origin of the voice, and that was when he saw the fox-like girl standing defiantly in the snow.

He materialized in front of her, but didn't say anything.  Kiwi let herself grow indignant.  Hadn't he heard her, or was he too stupid to realize she'd asked him a question?

Well?! I asked who was there.  She didn't like to be followed, or that he'd been so quiet doing so.  She didn't trust his motives or his intentions, and now wondered if perhaps he was tied to the Firebirds.  Had her mother's usurper sent him after her?  They shouldn't even know she was back.  Her eyes flicked behind him, but she saw nor heard anyone else.  At least he was alone.

She was loud and obstinate — a credit to her bloodline despite his ignorance of it, or of their connection — but he wasn't offended by her attitude in the slightest. Too often Mou was the ghost in the trees, or the wraith lingering upon the contours of this foreign mountain, unable to associate with others because of his ruined throat. Too often he was this lurking entity, this observer. He was accustomed to it, and people often found him unnerving.

He would give her the benefit of the doubt: she was a stranger in a strange land as far as he could tell and nobody liked to be stalked. He made himself known with heavier steps and got closer, enough at least so she could get a good look at him. He lifted his head - almost a challenge - just to flash the curving pink scar of his throat at her, which might've been obscured by his leather collar. Would that explain him enough?

At first she took his movements towards her, head uplifted, as a challenge.  She stood taller and lifted a lip warningly, flashing her fangs... but then her sharp eyes caught the scar.

Hmph.  So he was damaged goods.  Obviously he'd lost a fight somewhere along the line, badly too.  She had no sympathy, but it soothed her that at least he wasn't ignoring her on purpose.

You can't speak. She said, and paused for confirmation though she had not phrased it as a question.  That's unfortunate.  If you were looking for a home, I have no place for you.  She could not tell if he belonged to a pack or no from here, but best to be out with it.  She didn't care what his skills... a wolf who was damaged was not worth the place.

She wasn't impressed.

But then she was speaking of another place, a home, and he cocked his head and let his ears turn to focus intently on what she was insinuating; something about maybe inviting him somewhere, except she didn't seem invested in that either. How odd, Mou thought. He shook his head and then motioned with the posture of his body and a wave of his snout, trying to direct her attention towards where Diaspora was; he silently boofed towards his home, trying to tell her, that way is home!

She took his strange motions as invitation and came closer with caution.  When she was close enough, she caught his scent and noted the mix of others.  Oh, spoken for.  Well, either you have some use or tricked them well, but whatever the case, good for you.  She turned aside, looking off towards her own home.

You can't even tell me who they are, though.  Some ambassador.  Likely he didn't hold the title, but it was just her luck to meet a representative of a pack with no voice.

When the stranger drew closer Mou couldn't help but tense, as he wasn't anticipating it. She was small and quick and were it not for the angsty vibe coming off of her, Mou would've been less jittery, but she seemed on-edge and the tone of her voice made him nervous. That and the words themselves -- they sounded like they held disdain, which he did not appreciate. His shoulder fur fluffed a little and he snorted softly with his nose, otherwise remaining silent as he drew back from her. No, not an ambassador - just a wanderer.

He didn't seem bothered by her comments which served to actually annoy her a bit.  She was used to a visible or verbal reaction, but instead all she was met with was indifferent silence.  Just a slight movement back and a derisive noise. Her look turned a bit more into a glare.

Probably just a pet then, if you are too dumb to talk.  Run along home then, I bet someone is worried about you. 

He was bigger than she, and likely capable.  But his silence and his lack of reaction made her need to be mean overrule her sense.  She turned and began to walk away with her lip curled in disdain.  If he let her she'd leave... she wasn't about to waste her time with another pack's useless baggage.

He didn't care for her tone. The judgemental way that this scrawny woman made her observations might have earned her some aggression from another wolf, or maybe a thorough tongue lashing had this moment transpired earlier in Mou's life, but not how. He did not value the opinions of strangers; he barely valued the opinion of his pack, as they were still new and unproven to him. But when prompted to leave by the woman's own suggestion he hugfes again and turned away, lunging in to the snow, and Mou silently but swiftly departed from her sour company.