Blacktail Deer Plateau A broken oath.

The westward coast had been battered over the course of the previous season, leading the wandering woman to retreat along a path she had marched before; except this time when she came to the gilt-laden sand it was not a gossamer sight she beheld, but more catastrophe. The coast was in ruins. The Mother had been relentless in her fury. Minerva need not search for further signs; she knew she had wronged both the Sea and the Moon in her abandonment of them, but there was no way for her to reunite with her people. For all she knew, her island home was no more — herself a sole survivor. In making the best of a bad situation she headed inland.

As the woman carried herself away from the coast she noticed the dwindling saline in the air, the deepening pine scent, as well as the persistent chill of winter. This was not so surprising. Minerva knew she had wasted many moons on her misadventure and planned to make up for it with the fervor of her devotion, eager to fall back upon the traditions of her people; yet she also knew how to read the stars, and she knew the next moon was not far off. If she were to turn the proverbial tides to her favor, Minerva would have to pay attention and do things right. But how could she, knowing that this terrestrial space was not meant for her? This land of heathens, who knew nothing of the Mothers?

So her search would go on for days. Mindlessly she trailed within the valley, seeking out what meals she could (often picking at carrion, which up until now was beneath her) and keeping to herself when strangers crossed her path. She thought of the kind woman of the hinterlands often and considered returning to where she had met her, but in her meandering she came upon a plateau first. All thoughts of her previous meetings in the Teekons fell away at that point. She smelled many wolves here, and an oddly persistent minerality to their combined scent — almost like the sea. It had to be another sign.

Minerva thus made plans for herself. She would ingratiate herself to these people, make herself indespensible. As she approached a section of the claim's edge she saw that the exposed granite gave way to dirt paths approximately the width of a wolf, and it wound its way deeper along a quarry, around which there were miles of deep green pine to shadow everything. She knew not to go further — and poised herself there, raised her chin, and made it known she was waiting there for an audience.

Lately Rosalyn had held little patience even for packmates, so strangers on the border she had no time for.  If the call hadn't been close enough that avoiding it was a nuisance, she would not have answered it.  As it was, she had no intention of staying long... except, for some reason, this wolf struck her as familiar.

Rosalyn pulled up short in her approach and eyed Minerva blatantly, trying to figure out where they might have encountered one another.  Her memory was fragmented at times, nowadays, and though the important details stood sharp as others, faces could be lost.  Perhaps she was finally growing old.

Finally she smiled, and shook her head ruefully.  You seem familiar.  I might be mistaken.  It wasn't as if her type were unusual.  My name is Rosalyn.  What do you want here?

There was no telling how actively the borders were patrolled. Minerva was still adjusting to the overwhelming scent of the forest, but she tried her best to figure out where the strongest male scents were, and then had to pause and remind herself of the differences between mainland packs and her island home. Anyone could be maintaining these borders. And when she finally settled in to wait, there came the rustling of movement in the foliage.

The crimson-coated woman emerged, dusted lightly by snow, and for a moment the scowl on her face was off-putting. But the pair looked upon one-another and a sense of recognition bridged the gap; the woman might not have the best memory (especially considering their fleeting association) but Minerva was the opposite. This woman had been heavier when they'd first met. Awaiting the birth of her children.

I am Minerva. We have met before — you were with child, but the weight of your worries was greater. She dipped her nose slightly as she gave her name, and afterwards scrutinized the changes in the woman as she spoke the rest. Not so heavy now; thinner than what she should be, Minerva guessed. The chaos of the autumn had been hard on all of them. She thought to ask after the children, but it was not her place. Instead she opted for the truth of her being there: My effort to live upon the coast was thwarted by disaster, as you can likely imagine. I wondered if there was room here?

Not far off from where the woman lingered, Aningan was there searching; he was yet to share his findings with anyone, unconvinced that they were truly that, or merely a trick of the mind. Nevertheless, his self-appointed quest was cut short by the summoning of another, the voice unfamiliar but the volume exposing her close proximity. With a fleeting glance in the direction he was previously moving, the boy abandoned the path for one that would take him to meet the stranger, saving his search for another day.

The first to catch his attention upon arrival was the scent of brine, an obvious sign of the sea; he could do little more than stare as he discovered the wolf to whom the scent belonged, wondering if she held answers. He was stopped by the sight of Rosalyn, however, who he broke his stare long enough to glance at curiously, her words just barely reaching his ears. No matter, he shook his head and approached the pair, stopping when he was near to his packmate; he listened to their exchange, catching from the other that they were not unfamiliar with one another. His attention was then reacquired by the stranger when she asked about whether or not they had room there, to which he replied, “There’s always room for friends of members.” Immediately after, he looked to Rosalyn, silently wondering if his assumption was correct.

Suddenly, it came back to her.  She'd been upset, she did not remember why, and the stranger had helped her.  As she recalled this Rosalyn warmed to her just enough to nod, confirming that she did remember.  She didn't remember any more what those worries were, but her pregnancy had been a trying time.  She knew to this day that this was why only Reyes had survived; she was lucky to not have lost everything, herself included.

She opened her mouth to answer when Aningan approached.  Her teeth clicked shut as she deferred, but apparently this was unnecessary, for he left the question open and up to her anyway.  She glanced at him with bemused expression.  This was what he would need to learn if he wanted to amount to any sort of captain - if he made a decision, it was final.

An ally at least,  she confirmed.  Rosalyn had held few friends in this lifetime and Minerva, while appreciated, had not earned that quite yet.  and doubtless worth considering.  I am sorry to hear about your home. We too were pushed from the shore.  There was sympathy in her voice.

Her full attention was upon the woman, so when the pale man approached there wasn't much of a shift. When he spoke she gave him a brief glance, emotionless, hardly engaging, but it was better treatment than some women might bestow upon those of the lesser gender. Minerva was not so ignorant of the world at this stage in her life to presume she could continue with her traditional values, she had not been on her home island for many moons now; to be antagonistic in a foreign place such as this would only harm her chances to survive, so she would keep the peace.

The man made mention that friends were welcome and just as swiftly, Rosalyn denied they had such a relationship. Minerva did not see any slight in her affirmation - they were aquaintances and nothing more, having met only once in the past. A thin smile appears upon her face and she gives a slight tilt of her head in agreement. Friendship came with time; Minerva had not earned anyone's trust yet.

I was fortunate to have left my home prior to the upheaval, but after seeing the state of the beaches in these parts I wonder if that is entirely true. Minerva offers conversationally, thinking about how ruined Kea Island must be; they had weathered storms before, but nothing on the same level as the quaking of the earth. It had sent the Mother Sea in to a frenzy. I have never enjoyed living alone, either. It has been a difficult adjustment, but I am still here - proof enough that I can hunt at the very least. I have been trained in basic medicine, charting the stars, and combat; necessities where I come from. 

It felt strange to be listing off her better qualities like this rather than showing them off, but Minerva was not aware of the protocols when it came to infiltrating heathen tribes. For any sister upon the island, they need only cite the location of their natal tribe or speak the name of their high priestess in order to gain access to a land; much was shared across the island. Here, though, things were different. They were primitive — not in a demeaning manner, just different. She concluded her explanation with a look between the man and woman, giving them equal attention. If I can be of use, would I be welcome?

When the comment regarding friendship was denied, Aningan found his gaze drifting between the two of them. Not friends, no—just allies. Briefly, the thought of retracting his offer flashed through his mind—but it never gained any traction. An ally was still someone worth keeping close, and helping when down. And down she seemed to be, her coming from the shore telling a tale all on its own; he could still recall the chaos that erupted, the ruins he worried too terribly about to even dare to venture towards the coast.

Aningan listened as she listed her capabilities, finding some to be more interesting than others; charting the stars, in particular, was a skill that he didn’t understand the value of. They were pretty to look at, providing illumination throughout the nighttime hours, but as far as charting them went… he wasn’t actually sure what that meant or how it might prove helpful. Aside from that, however, she seemed like a useful addition.

“You sound like you will be of use,” he noted, lacking any doubt in her. “Angittuk, you are welcome to stay.” Maybe, just maybe, by gathering more that excelled at hunting, they might be able to relocate the herds; surely, those that could take prey down would also be capable of finding it, even after months since the disappearance.

Finally he gave the decision.  Rosalyn could have made a comment, but after their previous conversation (I assume), she had more patience.  Even a jest in front of a stranger did not appeal today.

She was glad the woman would be staying.  She had been alone too when Minerva had helped her and turning her aside would have felt ill-advised.  If you like, I can show you the borders.  She'd be able to suss them out herself, easily enough, but she wanted to chat.  She'd not learned much about the woman before.

The man made his decision. It had not occurred to Minerva until that moment that it was the man who she was being made to appease, but in the end it did not matter. She had made a goal of finding a safe haven and she had done that, plus she had reunited with an intriguing woman, a bonus. 

Minerva took a moment to give a slight bow to the man, but turned her ears towards Rosalyn as her voice emerged - and then turned to watch her with a thin smile upon her face. I appreciate that. Minerva replied as she stepped closer to her, giving her ample space to begin leading the way. Perhaps Rosalyn had noticed the strain that she had felt to be under the command of a man, but more likely not.

It had been ages since Minerva had last spoken to another woman at length. She was pleased to have the company, perhaps a little hungry for it, and would patiently wait for the resulting questions she presumed would be tossed her way. Any moment she could speak of her people was one she coveted; it was like being home again for as long as those stories lasted.

last from me!

With the stranger formally welcomed into their ranks, Aningan readied himself to take his leave—but, before he could go, he heard the offer extended by Rosalyn. Should he be offering the same to those that wished to join, after being accepted? His ears perked with curiosity as he gazed at the older woman, taking note of the exchange and committing the offer to memory—he would have to try extending the same to someone else, in the future. For now, however, he said, “I hope you settle in alright,” and then bid the pair farewell; he considered following after them to see what all the new woman was shown but, in the end, decided that, that may not be the best of ideas. He would figure out what to show new members on his own, through trial and error.

since minerva's leaving the game I'll go ahead and wrap this!

If Aningan had wanted to come along she would not have refused, but Rosalyn was glad they would have the chance to speak without his presence.  As they walked the borders, she asked surface questions about the woman's home, and told of her own experience with the earthquakes.  

They would part closer to friends than when they started.  She wasn't sure that she could afford such a thing here, with so much change always occurring, but only time would tell.