Whitebark Stream I make mountains out of stones

and then they were four; Daylily, Sunny and @Minnow were settled on the stream. it is the latter she calls for today; the borders need establishing. they are not yet enough to make a solid claim here, but they ought to lay basic scent marks to trace the outer limits of their territory. in full, the task ought to take a day, two at the most, but in instructing the girl she hopes to make the work go faster, and spend some time with her neice. on the edge of the maplewood she waits, back set to the trees and her gaze searches for the girl.

@Dawn I've been trying to figure out a way to fit this guy into Whitebark so I hope you don't mind the intrusion?  :)

Ah, Winter. It is this time of year that Artyom thrives, and he roused from slumber beneath a blanket of fresh snowfall. He unfurled himself with a groan, gathered himself to stretch out stiffened muscles and awarded himself a quick shake to rid his golden pelage of snow that rested atop his shoulders.

He meandered lazily along the Northern edge of the maplewood, drawn to the sound of running water so that he might quench his thirst. A nearby howl caused his velvet ears to prick, curious, and as he lifted his chocolate gaze from the ground to look through the foliage, he found the lithe figure of an ashen wolfess lingering just beyond.

Artyom did not veer away to avoid her. Instead, he made to alert her to his presence with a low chuff and, should she glance his way, she'd find him meandering along in her direction with a friendly wave of his tail.

not at all!! we'd be glad to have him <3

it is from behind her that the chuff comes; masculine, and older than she'd expected. she shifts, rising and moving to circumnavigate a dense clump of foliage so that she may seem him better. ivory and gold, well-built and suited to winters like these. smile curves her muzzle, and her own tail moves to echo his. "morning," she calls, stepping nearer to a distance more suiting a conversation. "I'm dawn. this is whitebark steam." she lacks the typical stance of a leader greeting a stranger on their borders, but whitebark is no formal pack yet, and as such, she is a leader only in the figurative sense.

@Dawn I'm free to spree if you are?

Although he maintained his friendly demeanour, Artyom felt some reluctance to draw closer. The cold season, though one he favoured, was difficult on many - the last place he wished to find himself was at the fangs of an angry she-wolf. He was spurred to test the scent of her furs, maybe even judge her receptiveness considering the beginning of mating season, but held back out of quiet respect for her.

"My name is Artyom," he introduced, content to allow himself the chance to slacken as his newest acquaintance seemed to welcome his company. Dawn offered to him the name of the territory, and he glanced over her sterling crown to look briefly at the land sprawled behind her. "You seek to build a pack here?"

I should be able to @Artyom!

the name and face are swiftly committed to memory even as she draws in his scent; earth and snow and nothing concrete; a wanderer, then. he peers over at the lands spread out behind her, to the west, and she is unable to stop the gentle warmth of pride. theirs. hers. 

"I do," she admits, peering back over her shoulder as she considers. "I lived near here once before; the stream and the territories surrounding make for good hunting grounds." she elaborates, directing her attention in full back toward the stranger. "we are newly settled here, but our ranks are growing swiftly." she finishes, glad for all those who had chosen to follow. 

"and you?" she asks, curious. "are you a wanderer, or do you look to fall in with a pack?" on first impression and appearance alone, she likes the look of him. he is strong, capable, quietly respectful.

With him she shared that the territory was familiar to her, and he found himself wondering what it was that made her seek to resettle. While his family clung to traditions set by their Russian-born relatives, untouched by the world beyond their kin, the Golden prince had learned so many different ways of life beyond the one he'd been born to. A desire to lead, perhaps? Reproduce? Or simply a fresh start?

His gaze studied Dawn's gentle features as she spoke directly to him of her intention to claim, and he admired her determination. It seemed her recruits were increasing swiftly in number and she made a good effort of selling the idea of joining them, possibly without even trying.

"I passed through here once before," he said, "after I was seperated from the pack I ran with - when the earth began to shake." Lost Creek was no more, he'd been disappointed to find, but he liked to imagine fate had severed him from Terance and his wolves for a reason. "For now I wander, though I do not wish to roam forever."

"the quakes," she murmurs in response, remembering the haze of fear and hunger and searching. winterbourne, and evergreen—"the prey is starting to return, though I doubt this place will ever be the same as it was." she admits. she does not know if her brother will be either; though in both matters she can only hope. 

"hm," she hums in acknowledgment, glancing him over a final time. "should you decide to settle, these borders are open to you." she offers, motioning lightly to the stream at her back. it would be good, she considers, to have a suitable bachelor among them when as the seasons changed and lengthened.

His eyes glimmered with hope at her suggestion that the prey had begun to trickle back in, and he felt his heart skip a joyful beat. Following his separation from the Hollow, Artyom drifted between packs far North of the Teekon while trailing herds, but he never stopped wondering if Terance, Arbiter and their cubs fared well enough through the tremors. He'd grown fond of the family during his time among them.

"That is a generous offer," he returned, "моя благодарность тебе. I think I will stay a while." A naturally social creature, Artyom craved a connection with others, something he was sure would find among Dawn and her kin - at least for a time, until fate might decide to sway.

he considers it for a moment, and then accepts—it is no deep commitment, but nor does she expect it from him. grin curves her muzzle, and she dips her head. "I'm glad," she offers, sincerity clear. she straightens, then and probes, "what was that language you spoke?" it is like nothing she's heard before, smooth mixed with the odd harsh sound, words blending into one another. 

she half turns, motioning for him to walk with her; she is keen to get to know their newest member.

His tail swept to life once more, swishing with a newfound nervous excitement between his hocks as Dawn's attention turned to the unusual language he'd spoken. "Ah," he laughed, awkward, "my mother tongue. My family call it Russian - my ancestors hailed from such place." He stepped forward then, near enough to finally draw in a better sniff of her, though he did so subtly as he fell into stride alongside her.

"I meant to say 'thank you', for allowing me this chance," he smiled, somewhat bashful despite knowing he was probably more curious than judgemental or frustrated by the potential barrier.

she senses his awkwardness and smiles easily in an attempt to belie it. if anything, it warms her to him; he seems sincere, and reminds her, perhaps, of friends past. "russian," she echoes, trying out the word. "I like it. is it far, the place of your ancestors?" she asks, wondering just have much distance he'd covered. she wonders if he's seen it, or if it a place found only in old tales and imagination. 

she only smiles easily at his gratitude; she is grateful, too, that he has given her and the stream a chance. it would have been just as easy to find a place more established, a day or two's journey away. but now that he's here, for however long it may be, she finds herself eager to learn more of her newest packmate.

we could fade soon, or continue—up to you! <3

I'm good to fade - I can start us another?

"I believe so," he answered with a smooth roll of a shoulder, feeling a little shameful that he had not thought to delve deeper into Timiryazevskaya history during his time among family there. In his youth his attention had lay elsewhere: finding joy in simply being alive, surrounded by friends and fortunate enough to be raised alongside cousins his own age in the absence of littermates. 

And, later, his primary focus had been on building an adult life and making memories with Ana.

"I was born a ways North of here," Artyom continued, "though my grandparents shared that their parents came from Russia. I couldn't tell you where that is exactly," he smiled, "but they say the snow never ends there."

that would be great! thank you :)

she listens, enraptured, as he elaborates. a land of endless winter; that, she thinks, would suit her well. she's always been more adept at hunting in the snow, and the unusual thickness of her coats make most summers in teekon uncomfortable. 

their conversation is easy as they begin to follow the finding stream, pausing only once and again to point out certain landmarks and scents.