The Sentinels Tempest-tossed and Seasick

Over the past weeks, Tahoe had wholeheartedly devoted his efforts to maintaining the border of Ironclan. There were no complaints, but he desired a change in pace. Going on a hunt would be an adequate use of his time. Tahoe slipped away from the bay, venturing deep into the charred forest. He discovered that the terrain was by no means teeming with life. Wildfire had stripped the lands of much vegetation. It was not completely barren though; he had found a hare, which after a good chase, escaped him. McBride made the decision to spare it instead of needlessly burning more energy. One failure, however, was not enough to set him back. Panting, he set off in the opposite direction, ultimately settling beside a collapsed, ashy log—the morning's faint showers drizzling everything with rainwater.

What a dreary place. The trees were all dead, he could even tell some were still falling, making this place dangerous to boot. Carefully he picked out his path within the woods, hoping to find his way out through the other side of which he had come in from to continue scanning the beaches. Along his path, he had crossed one scent of what he supposed was a pack... no one to meet just yet but it did pique his interest briefly. Maybe he would go back there to investigate someday.

For now, he was on about familiarizing himself with these lands, one by one. 

The morning drizzle felt nice and the air felt even nicer in his lungs despite the look of this ashen forest. Strutting by, he almost walked by an older-looking man by a fallen log, barely even walking by before stopping dead in his tracks to double-check what he had seen. Ah! There is someone there, hello! Was this guy friendly, Elijah wondered?

The atmosphere instilled a mild bleakness into him. For these lands to serve as a hunting ground seemed almost outrageous, there were much more bountiful places. Perhaps he wasn’t giving it a chance...

Tahoe was broken from his thoughts as the form of a stranger—stark white in color—came into view. He watched them for a moment before in turn being noticed himself. Today, he wasn't feeling nearly as territorial over this area in comparison to the bay. The group hadn't done a whole lot to stake a claim on the area anyway; he'd see what this guy was up to before giving a light warning. Or, the fellow might be open to recruitment. They broke the silence first with a generally good-natured hello. 

Afternoon. He responded with a slight dip of his head, rising to his feet.

random speaking colour hex change!

Completely oblivious to what the guy might be thinking, Elijah awkwardly stood and waited for a signal to either go or advance in greeting the stranger further. His tail did that slow-wave that dogs do when waiting patiently for a response, his lips even did that thing where his lips were stuck to his teeth. For a large man with many scars, he was a big goof more than anything. At least, unless provoked, or so at least that's how he felt about himself. To Elijah, he was a cool cucumber. 

When the man spoke, Elijah took it that he was receptive to talk. Taking a few steps closer - What's a guy like you doing in such a... well, colourless place like this? The guy rose to his feet and Elijah smiled, charmed, it was a light greeting of a grin to keep himself looking as friendly as possible. From here he could already tell the guy belonged somewhere, the way he carried himself with purpose, the smell on his coat was a mixture of others. Not quite strong, but it did say that he had others somewhere; something that Elijah lacked. Back up if things went wrong.

Tahoe strode toward the stranger calmly, coming at a stop once at a comfortable distance for conversation. Based on his passive actions and dialogue, the fellow seemed up for a chat. From this close, McBride could study him much better. He was larger than expected, quite scarred—similar to himself. Notably, the stranger had a pair of bi-colored eyes—blue and yellow. Tahoe had never seen a wolf with such eyes. Perhaps the stranger’s heritage was not strictly wolf. 

Well. Lookin’ to hunt, if you can believe it. An’ you? He replies easily, taking a seat.

The guy approached and Elijah simply stood where he was, letting the guy come to him and find a comfortable distance from one another instead of invading his space too soon. The short tail flopping behind him in a silent greeting to join him in this space. He may not look it from the scars and other more intimidating appearance, but Elijah was a rather gentle creature for the most part. Everyone had their bad days, for Elijah, they were few and far in between. 

Oh just wandering by. He really had nothing to do, life was easy going, boring for the most part but he had no real complaints other than the loneliness and boredom. Are there any prey here? I can help you catch something if it's not as barren as it looks. Of course, all I want is a meal to last me a couple of days and the rest is yours.

Tahoe was satisfied with the answer. He didn’t think they’d find anything anyway, it was a fair deal and worth a shot in the least. If by chance, they succeeded, both would simply go on their own ways; unless the stranger felt like sticking around. He would evaluate the man’s abilities before extending out an invitation. 

Deal. You a loner? He asked, turning, beckoning for him to join on a stroll. The answer seemed apparent enough, but he thought to ask anyway—in case the stranger wanted to elaborate.

Yes sir, not by choice I admit. Embarassingly enough, he loved the idea of joining a pack - but it just seemed that no one really liked him enough to have him remain or extend an invitation to join their little group. It was depressing, but he still had hope that there was a group out there somewhere that would love to ass his ass along for the ride.

He was a good boy after all, just a little too friendly maybe and not very bright, but good. As the other guy turned to start walking, Elijah quickly trotted to walk by his side, maybe one wolf could fit between them. Just haven't found the right place I suppose, I'm holding out for that special place, you know what I mean? He said with a toothy, childish grin, wide gold and blue eyes glancing over to the man. It was as if he was talking about marriage, "to hold out", which Elijah thought was funny enough.

His focus flicks to the white wolf as he speaks. He seemed like a good-natured fellow, perhaps too much so—at least in McBride’s own mind. The life of a loner was not suited for any wolf, especially the stranger. But, the clan didn’t seem like a good fit for him, certainly the atmosphere was not as carefree. He did not think the man would accept the offer anyway, and so he did not extend one in the first place. There would be many more opportunities to grow in the coming months.

He nodded, then refocused on searching for any signs of prey. I see. What exactly you lookin’ for?

Every now and then he'd place his pale digit in the sand to try and pick out any prey scent as he walked alongside his new temporary companion. He liked the guy so far - granted Elijah had a small list to tick off if he liked someone or not, it wasn't hard to get on his good side, but still, there were few who seemed to tolerate him and so, that was good enough for him! Hmm... Good question. A pause, his feet stopped in the dirt as he pondered briefly.

I don't know, I'm not picky - but at least somewhere that accepts me for me, y'know? That was the hard part so far he thought, picking up his pace again into a trot to walk next to the stranger once more. Maybe I'm too friendly, I don't know, but somewhere that lets me be me instead of wanting me to be more serious. Or maybe it's the way I look? Raising two questioning brows, he looked over to the more colourful guy at his side. Wondering, was he just threatening to look at or something?

Friendly isn't a bad thing is it? Having lots of friends is a good thing, isn't it? A sniff here, nothing... shit. He didn't want to disappoint. Maybe just a little further, something had to be lurking in here, something edible.

His tail swished at his hocks as he went along with the white-furred fellow—who chirped away as Tahoe searched for scents. There was nothing substantial to be found, only the meager trail of a suspected vole. He followed the scent for the sake of it, perhaps it would lead to something more. A vole would be better than nothing.

Despite appearing focused elsewhere, he paid attention to his counterpart's chatter. He talked about self-doubts, as well as finding acceptance. McBride himself had no basis to give advice on such matters—to him, seriousness meant stability. In the stranger's case, he seemed to desire the opposite. Tahoe could imagine that'd be a rare group to find. Most packs wouldn't want their new recruit to befriend every stranger which stumbled upon their borders. As for appearance, If a pack were to judge based solely on that, it'd come as a surprise to him. He glanced over and imparted a few words anyway. 

You look fine. Prob'ly too friendly. He said, quite bluntly. Not intended to be rude, but straightforward. 'Gotta choose friends wisely. Some'll pull the wool over your eyes; you won't expect it.