Big Salmon Lake Even if it's a lie, say it will be alright, and I shall believe

While familiar ground fell away under his paws, Dragomir slipped into his thoughts. He was only instinctively aware of his surroundings as miles passed beneath his feet, and while nothing he thought about was really all that important, in what felt like no time at all, he found his way barred by a lake. Lifting his head, the man pensively licked his pink nose and realized that this wasn't just any lake.

He hadn't thought about his father in some time. It wasn't that he'd banished Vercingetorix from his mind; more like life had simply got away with him, and it had been a blessing. He felt something heavy and unwelcome plummet into the pit of his stomach as he looked at the still surface of the lake with ice gathered in thin sheets around the shores, an early suggestion that winter was just around the corner. His father's body was long gone, no doubt consumed by scavengers until only his bones remained. Those were most likely at the bottom of the lake now.

Dragomir gave his head a little shake, grimacing. He didn't much like thinking about it. He stooped as if to drink, but couldn't bring himself to touch his tongue to the surface. After several seconds of considering, he straightened with a heavy sigh. No way.

could.not.help.myself.
wc:415

Having been informed where the wolves of Ursus lived, Bronco had harboured some underlying curiosity about them, wondering to himself exactly how close they were- or if they were far away enough that they wouldn't be a problem as he travelled back and forth to the Caldera to visit his family. He'd headed East from the Glen without even realized that those questions had been waiting at the back of his mind, unanswered. He'd been given a rough description of the pack's whereabouts, and with the understanding that those wolves were still beyond the mountain range to the North, he had absolutely no intention of going that far- but still...Having never been very far East of the Glen, he saw fit to investigate the area a bit, passing his trip off as a scouting and hunting expedition. He just wanted to see if there were any herds nearby, perhaps. Maybe he was on the way to visit his family at the Caldera. He'd do anything to give his morbid curiosity a different name.

There was a cool prickle in the air as he approached the lake, intending to get a drink, though with the ice lining the shores in thin, shiny sheets, he knew it'd be a better decision to break through it near the shore rather than testing its thickness with his weight. He roved along the banks, looking for an open place to drink, knowing that along the North edge of the lake where the river fed into it, there'd likely be a better place for him to find an open spot. He'd wandered for a bit, eyes gazing across the surface of the water until he caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision. A dark-furred wolf, still quite far away from him and not much more than a shadow against the backdrop, had raised its head. He flicked his ears forward.

He didn't recognize him- but he was also too far away to really pick up on any discerning features such as eye colour, or scars. But when he sniffed the air, he caught the male's scent and something in his memory was triggered. He couldn't place it, exactly- but something made the fur along the nape of his neck bristle. This reaction startled him, and he found his curiosity piqued yet again, by something that for some reason, he feared. So he approached, his gaze calm but focused- hoping he might recognize the male's face once he got close enough.

That was when he noticed that there was another wolf moving along the lakeside. Worse, it had noticed him. Dragomir’s hazel eyes locked onto the approaching form of Bronco. The closer the other man got, the more his back stiffened and his muscles tightened, prepared to jump into action at the first sign of hostility.

Bronco was downwind of him, leaving Dragomir as the one with a huge disadvantage. The approaching wolf would be able to tell everything about him by smell—his age, his health, his sex, where he’d been recently, the last thing he’d eaten—while he was left in the dark. He could guess from musculature that the tawny wolf was a male, but that was all he had to go on. He didn’t recognize Bronco at all, especially now that they were no longer fresh, reedy yearlings, but young men both on the cusp of maturity.

He raised his hackles in warning and pinned his ears forward, hoping to ward any possible animosity off by seeming strong, himself. They were close to Moonspear, if he remembered correctly, and he felt certain his old comrades would stand with him against some unruly loner if needed, but he wasn’t keen on being indebted to them, so he didn’t bother to call for them. He’d loved the pack and the wolves there, but he remembered Arcturus, and he'd come to enjoy his freedom.

wc:557 Just going edit in a wee conclusion to tuck this-a-one away; would be happy to revive if you bring him back, or have another one some day :) <3

The instant he was spotted, Bronco could tell that the lone male put up a guard, and regarded him with scrutiny in the pale, yellowish glint of his eyes. There was no hostility in the focused look that fell upon him, but like a porcupine, he stiffened and bristled in what Bronco interpreted as being an obvious, but calm warning. One he heeded, and for a moment, the voice pestering him and the instinct that told him to also be on guard was quieted as his friendly nature presented itself in the form of a soft wave to his tail. Not necessarily an acknowledgement of the male's display of strength, but a statement that he intended no harm, regardless how strong he believed himself to be.

Had the male objected to his approach, Bronco figured he would have shown his teeth, growled, or told him to shove off. So when he was greeted with silence, he continued to approach, with curiosity in his calm gaze, which he kept averted, for the most part, so the male knew he wasn't being challenged. There was something still about him that seemed familiar- and it wasn't until Bronco lifted his gaze and noticed that those eyes that had clapped upon him with sudden starkness weren't yellow at all, but hazel. And below them a nose- soft pink in colour.

He stopped suddenly, and stiffened. Subconsciously, the wild part of his brain sent a signal along his spine, causing the fur there to lift and prickle, all the way from the back of his skull and down to the groove in his tail. He remembered launching himself at this same fellow, though he'd changed a great deal since the scuffle they'd had, probably about a year ago now. Time had toughened him, grown him into a fine young adult, which made Bronco's feelings all the more intensified by the potential threat in front of him. He couldn't remember what it'd felt like to have Dragomir's fangs rake across the bridge of his muzzle- but he still bore the scars, and he could remember how sickened he'd felt by the fact that he'd won the fight- and that he could have potentially killed the male had he just clenched his jaws a little bit harder.

He remained very still for a few moments, having ever fully decided what he would do should he face his foe again. And he was surprised, then, to find that a voice wound its way through his mind- and that the voice belonged to Wraen. While part of him wanted to lunge and pin the male to the ground again- just to punish him once more for attacking Sugar Glider- he was reminded that he had a choice. And that he didn't necessarily need to heed the dark instinct which lusted for revenge.

“I remember you,” He said. He struggled to keep himself calm, but he put a great deal of effort into crafting a firm but collected exterior. In stopping so abruptly, he'd squared his posture, so that he was braced and rigid- and presented no indication that he might break from his stronghold. He had the choice, and the chance to dictate how this reunion began- and he chose not to engage mindlessly in another battle that might injure or kill both of them. But it rattled him to look upon the man who had attacked Sugar Glider so ruthlessly. And so, while he would not revive their old battle, he did not give the male any chances to take up their quarrel again either. He turned, still watching Dragomir with a disapproving side-eye, and loped off into the distance.