Bearclaw Valley "You have forgotten the face of your father.”

after his run-in with the hunting bear in the meadow, illidan had not stopped his journey until he had passed the mountain and wandered through a good distance of the lands beyond. his trek had taken him several days of time, but on the early morning that the rainfall had decreased he had found himself near the edges of a pack. the scent of wolf was strong, and the ghost shuddered softly at the cool touch of autumn that existed in the air.
 
he had skirted several packs on his journey, avoiding them because of their aroma or because he had met one of their members and was filled with a senseless dread and forced to leave. the markings of the pack that resided in the valley were strong. the territory appeared safe and secure. illidan called to whoever could grant him a place in their ranks, hoping to offer his skills in exchange for a place to stay for the winter.

furious was the dove that darted from the red pineclay path, her eyes wide and set on illidan in disbelief.

no -- that bitch was dead; astara had watched caiaphas' parting with certain smugness, confident it would be the last time the witch walked from bearclaw. that caiaphas had not returned was in of itself a testament to her demise in astara's eyes, and how soundly she slept, knowing her bear's mentor had gone to the path in the clearing.

so when the spitting image darkened her doorstep she hastened towards him, nostrils flaring -- settling only when she realized this beast was but male, and no threat to the realm that was merrick's prickly heart. astara regarded the man coolly, extending a glistening muzzle out towards him: who was he, and why was he here?

it did not take long before the dark figure of a mad-eyed woman came toward him. her stature did not suggest a kind or generous personality. illidan was careful to take a few steps back, lowering his crown in to show that he was respectful but also to provide a more defensive stance for himself. he was no fool; if the woman was to attack him directly and he did not brace for it, her fangs would leave lasting impressions.
 
she did not speak to him. instead the shadow regarded him with wicked violet eyes and a wordless query – what are you doing here? the ghost drew his crown up slightly, holding the distance that he had placed between them so that he might soften the air that they shared and release the tension. “looking for a place to work for… through winter. i can earn my keep just fine; a good fighter and scout… and scavenger,” he offered to her in a hollow tone.

the stranger shifted his posture back; it was good enough for merrick’s wicked rook, who still felt the pitter patter of her heart flutter against her chest.

she listened with one ear fixed on illidan as he spoke, his tone lacking inflection. could it be a trap? was he sent by the witch, to resecure her talonhold on merrick?

astara drew forward purposely, probing along his fur for any scent of the old hag. she found nothing telling at all; was this simply fate’s wicked sense of humor at play, and just a coincidence?

500 for u ;-;

illidan stood stiff while the feral shadow prodded him with her nose and drew in his scent. other than the bear that he had come much too close to, he did not imagine that she would collect the aroma of another living creature. it did not mean that he enjoyed the manner in which she seemed to leer at him with distrust and skepticism. the ghost knew nothing of her prejudice against his mother.
 
illidan stood until she seemed to have collected the information she needed from his scent. when she had completed her search, he peered at her and his features did not carry a sign of expectations. he imagined that if they sought the addition of his fangs in their ranks, she would allow him to pass. if he was not up to their standards, the wicked little she-wolf would surely send him away.

no trace of caiaphas -- but

her hackles lifted

alarm

her eyes widened

bear

was it a sigul? was it the bear-god's will?

astara stepped back, peering back at the hooded man who peered at her with no emotion readily recognizable on his face. his sheer similarity to caiaphas had the blackbird inwardly hissing -- were it not for the scent of bear that clung to his pelt, astara might have turned him away then and there.

but merrick -- her bear -- would think this was the work of his magnificent and unknowable bear-god. merrick would find joy in the coincidences, the funny little similarities.

astara took another step back, a sweep of her muzzle downward. she kept her gaze away, so the sigul might not know her true thoughts.

welcome to the red-path, brother.

every thought that tore through her mind was unknown to him. the wandering ghost did not know how special it was for him to have carried the fragrance of bear on his pelt. to him, it was a miracle that he had passed through the beast’s territory without suffering harm at the claw or fang of the animal. somehow, the bear had not chased after him and he had passed through with no intention of returning there again.
 
fortune seemed to have smiled on him, however.
 
the wild violet-eyed woman bowed her crown and seemed to grant him access into the valley pack. illidan regarded her with a sidelong stare for only a moment before he stepped into their terrain and drank in the scent of the wild wolves of that pack. perhaps he should have felt more wary of the dark stranger and her questionable looks. the seething that existed just in the edges of her vision.
 
“what do i call you?” the tired ghost inquired of her, stepping to her side but leaving space between them.

for illidan, that bear was a boon.

had he not boasted the scent of ursus' most imminent, he may as well have been treated as a vagrant, or lobstrosity, or worse -- some thing to be culled from their meadow or placed on display outside the grim spectacle that was their borders. astara, having little of the sight her sister and mate possessed, knew only the physical realm -- and in this realm, illidan bore the sigul of the bear.

he was to pass through, unarmed.

@Merrick would surely wish to meet his newest accolyte, but for now, astara stepped along the pine-straw path with one ear turned behind her. to illidan. to his query.

she halted, so he might see that he was heard.

she turned and looked at him, so he might see that he was seen --

and then, she gave a careless shrug of her shoulders. call her anything -- the wheel, jack andolini, gunslinger --

one thing was certain, however. he was one of them.

the dark woman led them into the pack and he stayed at her side at the perfect pace, keeping his gait just behind her enough that she had the full command over where they went and what they saw. the wild she-wolf had not said a word to him since she had met him at the borders, but she traversed the pack land with no sense of loss of direction. this was very clearly her place, her claim. illidan would do well to respect that, as well as her silence if that was what she wished for.
 
when prompted to provide a name, the dark creature turned to him and shrugged. it didn’t seem to matter what he was to call her. illidan had never been tasked with coming up with a name for someone, but it was likely that she had a calling from every other member of the pack and the moniker that he picked would be no different from the others.
 
“morgana, i guess,” he offered her with a small nod.

morgana. leila. blackbird. astara. what did the names matter, when the soul behind them was the same? astara’s gaze trailed the man in consideration, but as always she was silent. 

she lead with an easy sway of her tail down the red path. here the scents thickened and the rendezvous was apparent — astara gave a single short howl to those of ursus, who now had new blood among them.

morgana led the two of them into the thick of the pack, taking them down a winding red path that led to where the scents of the other wolves were strong. illidan felt the fur along his neck prickle; it had been a while since he had been around that many other bodies and he wasn’t certain that he had prepared well enough for it. the dark woman howled to announce his arrival and the ghost lowered his crown to her.
 
so far, she had been the only thing about that land that hadn’t made his heart race and his throat tighten. at least it was something, compared to the months he had spent wandering without any sense of feeling or direction. at least morgana had seen something worthwhile in him, in spite of the scrutiny she had openly shown. perhaps he could turn it into another home...

fade here, new one ? <3

astara's howl trickled into silence. soon, ursus would appear and measure their newest recruit. astara assumed that like her, they would not find illidan disappointing.

averna would have called the energy around the black-marked wolf interesting -- astara did not know much of the void's tongue, but she knew this much: there was a darkness to illidan she found arresting. in truth, his appearance alone had been enough to unsettle her -- but she was not so stupid as to ignore signs from greater forces at work.

after all, only fools denied coincidence. astara left illidan at the rendezvous, searching then for her rook so she might draw him back to illidan and see for himself what he made of the wolf so clearly favored by their savage bear-god.

the ghost followed his new dark master wordlessly. his head was held low and his frame was unassuming and ragged in its appearance. he looked years beyond his age. illidan knew nothing about the thoughts that raced through his new leader’s mind – thoughts of signs from something greater. his run-in with the bear had been the spark that brought the flame to life. that simple twist of fate was the only reason he had been placed in the ranks of the ursus wolves.
 
time would tell how well the pack suited him, or whether he could repay the silent morgana for her kindness.