Bitterroot Valley it's brave and unbreakable

the mid-morning sun struggles to shine through the choking constriction of thick white clouds. the bitterroot beneath ridgeback's trampling paws bears vivid fuchsia carpeting. it is nothing but yawning grassland with a slumbering mountain in the distance. still, he keeps going. there is nothing of notable interest in this valley for him. not until dry soil gives way to loamy earth and the gentle lapping waters of the qeya river. the water is fresh as he pauses to take a drink and eye the permanent and deep ruts of fresh game trails. he keeps it in mind, in case he gets lucky and a sickly elder is left behind by the herd but does not pursue any of the trails.

hope i can take this! <3

Outskirts would have made him think of home. However his deeper investigation led to nothing to hold such a belief. There were no willows for him to grab the branches of as if he had discovered a maypole.

The soil was dry and even with game trails the valley seemed more like a path than somewhere to settle.

In his miserable shuffle through the earth, he spotted a beacon of a man. Oleander would have thought him to be stone carved if not for the rusted mane. For this to be the first face he has seen in days (if not weeks) must have been some sort of omen.

He would have ran if he could have. Instead he was rooted to the spot as the dry earth crumbled slightly beneath his tensed weight. Small pebbles and grains of dirt rolled down toward the strange beacon's spot. All Oleander could do was hold his breath.

of course you can! thanks for joining! ♥

though certainly not lacking for color — which brightly glares at him with each step he takes, crushing more fuchsia colored bitterroot beneath his paws — nor prey scents ... it lacks in interesting factor. beyond the wild question of if his paws will stain this awful purple-pink color the more he keeps stepping on the valley's carpet. there isn't much to explore lest one was in the hunting mood — which he wasn't ...and he wasn't of the mind to dye ( however temporarily ) his fur color. it was just as ridgeback considers, very heavily and seriously, moving on and out of this eyesore of a territory the sound of dispelled pebbles and dirt catches ridgeback's attention; ears immediately alert. he glimpses up to see the stranger nearby, casting fiery orange gaze upon the earth toned man. do you plan on gawking up there all day? ridgeback inquires teasingly, tone taking on its usual coquettish and flirtatious edge.

He couldn't recall a time anyone had ever talked to him in such a way. If someone had stripped him of his fur, the pink in his cheeks would have been noticeable more than anything else. He didn't have anything teasing to serve back, only a very flustered huff of air.

N- A crack in his voice and he hadn't even said the word yet. No. He tried firmer, but how feeble his word had been wouldn't go missed surely. Do you plan on gawking down there all day? For a moment he'd feel successful, even if he had only copied what the male had said to him first.

a small snicker, likely more of his devilish side than his charming side, leaves him as the stranger apparently struggles with ridgeback's greeting. whether the other man wasn't used to be flirted with or spoken to in such a way is unknown but ridgeback isn't one to hold back. not usually; except, perhaps, when he's trying to play hard to get ( which might be more than he thinks, yikes ). mayhaps, ridgeback draws with an aristocratic sigh. i am enjoying the view.

Stupidly, he didn’t grasp just exactly what the words meant. So he pattered in a circle once.

There’s...not much to look at. Save for the squashed patches of color in the valley from their travel. When he turned back to face the man fully, he decided to descent down closer to him. Close enough to realize that he was practically a dwarf to the man. Embarrassing!

ridgeback watches as the other male does a circle, presumably scanning the terrain; immediately it occurs to the ranger that his compliment went straight over the man's head. a laugh rumbles in ridgeback's chest, mentally shrugging it away. ah well. can't say he hadn't tried, he thinks as he watches the other man — smaller than him now that they are at the same level — descend. ah, i don't know, ridgeback draws, unable to entirely shake his flirtatious nature. haven't you ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? he teases.

In the eye of the beholder, eh?

I dunno about that. He rumbled softly in return with a mischievous grin. Maybe you need your eyes checked. He teased as his nose aimed to gently bop the man's chest. Mainly because it would have been too much effort to try and poke at an eye.

So do you live here then? Asked as he crushed some of the bitteroot under paw.

sorry about the delayed response! i'm going to be shelving ridgeback so maybe wrap up with your post?

perhaps. ridgeback concurs in a soft hum of consideration. no, ridgeback answers simply. i don't live anywhere. which was true enough. he was a vagabond, thru and thru; a hungry vagabond at that. it hits him suddenly; throwing aside his previous lack of interest in the hunting the territory provides. interested in a hunt? he asks the stranger suddenly. accepted or not, ridgeback would make his way following the freshest trail — a fox trail; and while he hoped for company he wouldn't be hurt if the stranger declined.

will do!

Well the situation turned and now he was being offered to hunt. Oleander wasn't confident in his skills enough to boast but it wouldn't hurt him to tag along. Coming! He'd call out after the man who'd already taken down the trail. Content to live in his shadow for the time being.