Whitebark Stream Don't drag me along to your slaughterhouse.

With a cache dug out in preparation for the pack's first stores, Artyom assumed a hunt - though not for himself. He and Dawn were not the only driving force behind Whitebark, and it only seemed appropriate to integrate with the others. A social butterfly, the golden wolf felt most comfortable in the company of his own kind, so delivering a gift seemed like a good starting point to building solid relationships with new packmates.

There didn't seem to be much on offer, but after patiently waiting in his hiding place for what felt like an eternity, he managed to succeed in catching a foraging squirrel by surprise. It dangled lifeless between his jaws as he turned and ventured deeper into the territory, eyes alert for any sign of a hard-working comrade in need of a snack.

Daylily was wandering the woods lost in thought when the golden wolf appeared—though she did not notice him. She was thinking very hard about something and had come to an impasse. She didn’t often show it, but she wasn’t the most confident wolf around, and she just kept thinking: what if her skills weren’t good enough for this pack? Oakstead had been a massive pack, with at least thirty adult members, let alone pups. Wolves came from miles around just to join, for they had heard good tales about the green forest always full of food and good company. Because of this, there were many skills that Daylily had not had to learn, like hunting big game or fending off intruders. Others who were more inclined towards those jobs had learned such things; she had been left alone to pursue more gentle arts: learning more about her religion, about the magical aspects of nature. But these things were not practical. Not really useful. 

“Oh, what am I to do?” she asked herself, unaware that she was being watched by the male who had come baring the gift of a squirrel to eat. She supposed it wasn't too late to learn new skills, but would she be good at them? She abhorred violence, so the idea of having to fight off intruders made her skin crawl. Would she be stuck as dead weight here forever?

When at last he spotted an unfamiliar figure, Artyom paused in his tracks. He lifted his crown to better look upon the stranger, warm gaze studying: slight of frame with a certain sharpness about her and with a softness to her features, he could tell that youth was on her side. A yearling, perhaps?

Despite his mouthful of dead squirrel, he did his best to smile for her in silent greeting. At his rear his dense tail gave a friendly wave, ears high atop his golden crown and gaze eager to see or hear a response. 

Daylily nearly bumped into the male before she finally saw him. “Oh!” she said, coming to a sudden halt upon noticing him. “I—I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.” She scrunched her eyebrows, seeing the squirrel held in his jaws. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked. “Is it for the caches?” She brightened a bit at the thought, reminding herself that even if she couldn’t hunt big game, she could still hunt little creatures, as well as fish. Perhaps she wouldn’t be useless, after all. She smiled at the man, glad to have bumped into him—no pun intended. “Forgive me; my name is Daylily, of Oakstead.”

She carried on toward him, but didn't seem to take notice of him. Artyom took the opportunity to observe her until she did, and he would continue to follow with his gaze should she choose not to acknowledge him at all.

Not wishing to be caught gawking as she drew near, he lifted his gaze to linger on the girl's snout, and she finally acknowledged his presence with surprise. Carefully he lowered his catch and nudged it forward with his snout, keen to present it to her.

"I wished to acquaint with new packmates," he responded as he lifted his crown again, pausing only to trace the corner of his mouth with a swift lick, "so if you would be so kind enough to accept this gift, it would bring me great joy. My name is Artyom."

Daylily blinked in surprise as the squirrel was dropped at her paws. She stared at it for a moment, as if half expecting it to jump up and bound away, and then she looked up at the man who had given it to her. She smiled shyly. “Thank you. I will accept your gift.” Now that introductions were over, she hesitated, glancing back down at the squirrel. “W-Would you like me to eat it now?” She wasn’t quite sure what to do now that she’d had food given to her. “Or shall I… save it for later? It would be rude to eat it now, as you have nothing to eat.” Her manners, which had been drilled into her from a young age, came roaring back with a vengeance. She would feel terrible if she started eating in front of someone and they had to just sit there and watch her enjoying her food.

Daylily offered her name in both your last posts, if you wanna edit the latest one?  :P

He was warmed by her acceptance, and charmed by the awkwardness that followed. Artyom grinned for her, amused but sympathetic, and politely dipped his muzzle. "You may eat when you wish to," was his answer, and waved his tail again in quiet encouragement.

"Have you been with Whitebark long?" Artyom settled then, lowering his haunches to the ground as a golden ear pricked forward, keen to know more of his new packmate.

“Thank you,” Daylily said, relieved to be given the option to eat it later. She pulled the squirrel closer to her with a paw and left it between her front paws. She would take it off somewhere later to eat it alone or to bury it for later. “Perhaps I will return this favor some time. I’ll fish in the stream once it thaws and bring you the first of whatever I catch!” She smiled at him.

’Have you been with Whitebark long?’

“A few days, now,” she replied. “Though it feels like much longer. It feels…” She blushed beneath her fur and turned away from him. “… like I belong here.” It was a strange feeling, to be sure. She had lived with her family pack for the first year of her life, and that had felt like home. But now, at Whitebark, she also felt at home, and at peace. “Forgive my sentimentality,” she said, turning back to Artyom. “What about you? How long have you been with us?”

Her talk to fish earned an interested prick of his velvet ears, and he grinned wider: "I may hold you to that!" He laughed, a cheerful sound to accompany the sheer joy he felt for this opportunity to seek a new friendship with another who was sure to become like family to him in the coming months.

Truthfully, he looked forward to a time that she might return the favour - not because he gave to take, but purely because he enjoyed fishing. Having been born to the far North, there had been times in his life when the herd migrations meant that the only meat his kin could source came from their waters. Perhaps he and Daylily could even fish together, to better strengthen bonds.

"Since yesterday," he answered, skipping over her bashfulness with ease as not to draw attention to it, "I've only met Dawn so far, and now you."

Daylily smiled shyly at Artyom after his comment about holding her to her vow of catching him a fish. He seemed like a kind man, someone she could become friends with. Of course, she hoped that she would eventually be friends with everyone in Whitebark Stream.

He said he’d only been here since yesterday, and had only met Dawn and herself. “Well, there are lots of nice people here!” she told him, hoping to alleviate any fears he might have about the kind of people in the pack. “A girl named Kora is especially nice! We had a lovely conversation about the types of packs we came from before we came here.” Trying to bring the conversation back to Artyom, she asked, “What sort of place did you come from?”

She was a gentle sort, he felt safe to conclude, with a shy smile and doe eyes. Artyom did not doubt her seemingly large heart, as she pressed on to speak kindly of their pack-mates. Enthusiastic to point out that she'd encountered several pleasant wolves who supported Dawn's claim, he was glad to hear no suggestion of bag eggs among the group.

"I am happy to hear that," the golden hunter told her smoothly, and blinked as he prepared a response to her question. It reminded him of his discussion with Dawn the day prior, and he figured most of the wolves in this part of the continent would be curious about where he came from considering the unusual way in which he spoke. "A place far from here," Artyom informed, "my family made their home on territory with frost year-yound, nestled on high ground. I branched off a year ago but they likely remain there still, as they have done for generations."

“Oh,” said Daylily, listening to Artyom’s description of his family pack. “I couldn’t imagine living somewhere that cold all the time. My family pack, Oakstead, had very pleasant summers. It was very green there. I think I would be sad if it snowed all the time.” Day was curious; she had had her own reasons for leaving Oakstead, and she wondered why others left their homes, as well. “I left Oakstead to find adventure, I suppose,” she confided in Artyom. “It’s a wonderful place, and I miss it so much sometimes, but I just felt that I wasn’t contributing anything useful there. I hope I can change that now, here.” She looked at the male. “Why did you leave your home?” she asked, and then added hastily, “You—you don’t have to tell me. I’m only curious.”

Daylily offered a small insight to her homeland, seemingly content to remember its pleasant Summers. The golden hunter softened his smile, amused at their differing opinion on the seasons: he was most fond of Winter, where Daylily appeared to hold preference for the warmer seasons. This was very likely due to their respective upbringing, considering their birthplace.

"It's alright," Artyom said reassuringly, as he considered how best to tip-toe around the true reason behind his dispersal. It wasn't that he was ashamed of how losing Ana made him feel, he was simply loathe to dampen the mood. Whitebark was meant to be a fresh start, after all, and he found no point lingering in that solemn part of his past. "my family suffered a loss, quite unexpectedly. It was enough to make me rethink my place in the world, and I realised my home was meant to be elsewhere."

Daylily’s ears pulled back along her skull when Artyom confided in her that his family had suffered a loss. She looked down and away, unsure of what to say in the face of such sorrow. She had never known anyone who had died, at least not when she’d still been at Oakstead. Suddenly she was filled with fear that perhaps someone from her homeland had died after she had left. How would she know about it if they had? Would they send someone to go and look for her, to tell her? She shivered thinking about it. It was a horrible thought, a horrible feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly that perhaps he wouldn’t even hear her. She tried to remain positive, as always, tried to shake off the feeling that had seeped down into her bones. “Maybe…” she began, shaking her head. “Maybe you will find new family here. Not to replace the one you lost, but… to help heal the wound.” She shook her head again, not knowing if her words were the right words, or enough. She glanced up at him with sad, searching eyes, and then looked away again, feeling as if she had intruded on something private.

"Don't be," he said softly in reference to her "sorry", to her discomfort. "Dying is part of living. We all experience it in some way." He had felt Ana's demise sorely, and there were days now that he still struggled to process such a sacrifice, but he was driven by her last request of him: live your life, find your happiness. That was an important task for him to fulfil, a path he'd followed tirelessly to honour the memory of a love lost.

He aappreciated Daylily's attempt to bring light to his transition to Whitebark, and the warmth returned to his pale features. "That is the plan," he quipped, tail sweeping at his rear as he recalled Dawn's vision for her budding pack. "I have hope for all of you to become a family to me, one not by blood but by choice."

Daylily felt her own happiness return when Artyom assured her that all was well. She smiled at him shyly when he spoke of his hope that Whitebark would become his new family. “Well, count me in,” she said, her tail wagging. “I miss my own family back in Oakstead; I’d be happy to make new friends here.” She stood amicably near him, also thinking of Dawn, and thankful that the woman had allowed her entrance here. She had not regretted joining Whitebark Stream for even a moment since she had arrived. This place seemed… perfect.

Last from me, probably. End with your final post?

He was glad to have her on board, and sure they would warm to one another swiftly. Daylily was a likeable young she-wolf and he looked forward to the time they'd spend together as pack-mates: patrolling, hunting and generally being there for one another.

"It was been a joy to meet you, Daylily. I will leave you to eat in peace," Artyom concluded with a smile, gathering to take his leave to call playfully over a gilded shoulder as he loped away, "and I won't forget about your promise to catch a fish for me!"