Mudminnow River obscura

Coming upon the river, he noted the thin layer of ice forming across the surface. When he peered closer, Holland felt it was not safe to drink the water here. Not that he was thirsty anyway, but one had to keep oneself prepared. If he found a water source, it'd be mapped away in his mind. The valley was dark, as per usual for his travels. Not so dark for others to sleep, but dark enough to be comfortable in.

Turning away from the source, he'd remark idly on the plant life. The frost would kill them, he should gather them but to what end? He had no pack. No home. He could not offer healing to others who did not know him. Even he wasn't foolish enough to eat plants from a stranger. Holly had wanted to find a pack before winter hit, alas. He was a pack wolf at the core, happy enough being a clog in the machine.

But he was also terribly picky about loyalty. Frozen earth chilled his paw pads along the bank. Raising one paw, he examined the scratched surface. Constant travel made his pads tough, but rough. There was no blood - not any more - but they did feel sore still. Especially in the cold. Beginning to nose around the plant-life, he began to name some he knew. Others he did not were stored in his memory.

My thread now <3

It was by chance—pure, unlucky, stupid—chance that he found the man by the river’s bend.
 
He seemed taller than him, in the dark, from a distance. Broader. And he thought about leaving him, briefly, momentarily. All too content to let the man do his bullshit while Daighre did his. But then he raised a single paw to his face, and—
 
“The fuck are you doing?” He called, coming closer. And upon noticing his scarred face and single pale, milky eye—
 
“Fuckface.” It was a nickname spoken with derision, his face contorted into a sneer and his chin haughtily—arrogantly—raised. Like the man knew something he didn't.

"Hmm."

Holland had no interest in dealing with the, ah, lack of eloquence. Especially men, who were prone to violence over a woman. At least most women played with you emotionally - he liked to match wits at times. He also knew not to get in too deep. But this? 'Fuckface'. How very mature. But if he didn't give a shit about his appearance by now, he'd be curled in a ball somewhere. Boohoo, all the people who'd laugh and call him names.

"Do you really care what I'm doing?" he asked bluntly, yet softly. His eye raised to glance over at the other wolf, seeing them through a neutral look. And that was that. He waited, on edge now. Wolves who threw that slang around were more likely to be brats as a personality. Holly didn't have a hope for this one already. But he'd leave if it went too far, and so far he had no real gain for this conversation.

‘Do you really care what I'm doing?’
 
His hackles bristled at being questioned, and he stood, then, awkwardly, and uncomfortably, stiff-legged and on edge with his shoulders rolled forward, and suddenly—suddenly—painfully unsure.
 
Until finally—
 
“No.” Yes. Maybe.

"Then" Holland glanced away, lowering his paw now that it was properly inspected "you would find it dreadfully boring" And I would be wasting my breath on you. Though that remained unsaid. Let the other make assumptions if he liked. "so ask something you care to know."

Which was not much. Holland knew keeping secrets from others could save his life down the line, but that wasn't the issue. He had a boring life so far. A warrior turned medic. A kingdom forgotten by him and his family disowned him for it. Like he said; terribly boring. It was generous at all he chose to offer something more to the man.

‘So ask something you care to know.’
 
The metaphorical ball was out of his court, he had no power here, and with it went his comfort and confidence.
 
So, he tried to get it back.
 
“The fuck happened to your face?” He asked. Blunt. Rude. As if his own face didn’t have the still healing marks of a mountain lion’s claws on it. But his? It looked like he fought a goddamn bear with it, and the bear won.

He could have snorted in amusement. Most wolves were not so direct. They skirted around asking and hopped around, uncomfortable with his looks. So was he impressed with the honest and direct route? Perhaps. "War" he says now, his tail flickering once behind him in mild irritation. Not at the man, but at himself for having been brainwashed for so long.

Holland lifted his chin almost defiantly. "I defected. Others thought it best to teach me a lesson." He had been beaten and near death, dragged to the mouth of a cougar's den so the soldiers would not tarnish their deeds by killing a traitor. The cougar had been harrassing his people for years, and they sought to offer him as a peace treaty. 

Feed the cat the traitors. Leave the good little toy soldiers alone. Holly had fought with every inch of life left. "They would weep to know I am still alive."

With evening came Arbiter's trip home. She'd been tracking a herd of moose that had been lingering near the borders but had in the recent days moved away from the territory. Her investigations hadn't given her an answer on whether or not they were going to be around through the winter. Too early to tell. She'd check for them later.

Since she was familiar now with the course of the river, so to save herself the trouble, she'd cut a straight line to avoid one switchback in its banks. Now coming up alongside a straighter part again, she spotted a lighter figure in the distance -- or at least, that was who she spotted first, the more shadowy one appeared next as she approached. She didn't move in any sort of stealthy way, just her usual amble. 

She was silent, and though she wasn't at her own territory, her inquisitive glance swept between them with her normal analytical stare. So, who were these two? They didn't smell like Ursus or the Saints, so that was good, but it wasn't like she'd gone and stuffed her nose right in their pelts. No, she stopped at a comfortable distance. Finally, a cant of her head. They'd been having a conversation and wasn't going to outright interrupt.

‘They would weep to know I am still alive.’
 
It wasn’t the answer he expected—or the answer he wanted—but it was the answer he got, and with it, Daighre looked at him in a new light. In understanding. In respect.
 
He nodded.
 
Took a step back.
 
Parted his mouth to ask a question, to ask his name, who he had killed—
 
And promptly closed it when he noticed her.
 
He glowered. Glared. Suddenly silent and stormy.

New scent hung between them. He glanced away from the other to see a woman nearby. Her presence upset the man, who openly glared daggers at her. Holland bit back a sigh - was he really going to have to make conversation again? A more in-one's-face wolf would ask what the fuck was wrong with her presence. He remained silent, gathering his thoughts.

"My name is Holland." He decided upon introducing himself first. After the stormy silence had been broken by him, he glanced calmly between the two. Man and woman. Was there a connection here... Curious. "what are you called?" but Holly addressed this to both of them. There was equality in his address, hoping to calm whatever storm raged in the pale man's eyes. Ultimately though, it was not his damn business. He should not care. He would not care.

But he would be here. If a fight broke, he would patch them both up.

Okay, apparently her attempt to not absolutely destroy the conversation had destroyed it anyway. Her initial response to the paler man's glare was to just blink at him a couple of times with a completely blank expression. That broke when the darker one spoke -- Holland -- her gaze snapped to him as he talked. She then dipped her head politely, Arbiter. From Legion, the pack nearest here. AKA why she came to a full and complete halt to see who these guys were.

But then she looked back to the other guy. For Arbiter, the way she asked the following question made her sound like a more normal person than usual -- instead of the cold creature she was, Do you have a problem? Her head tipped the other way. Her interest in his attitude was momentary, but hey, amusing while that lasted. After all, she hadn't even had a chance to say anything callous enough to deserve that sort of treatment from him. Oh sure, she could believe that might have happened anyway, but usually she expected to get a few comments in edgewise first.

His vision met hers—a collision of red against blue—and never quite left. Even when the man, Holland, introduced himself, did he do no more than allow a single ear to twitch.
 
Arbiter.
 
Cool.
 
He literally didn’t fucking ask, or care.
 
And while she—and to a certain extent, Holland—had been more than happy to give their names, Daighre wasn’t.
 
‘Do you have a problem?’
 
He huffed. Snorted. Bristled at being addressed.
 
“No.” He sneered, head tilted back and chin defiant as he stared down from the bridge of his muzzle.

He quirked a brow as an exchange was made. First thing first; he took note of the Legion's name, their location when given a vague description. "Are we on your land?" Holland was calm, much calmer than the pale man was being. He addresses Arbiter before the other wolf snaps back at her. He glances toward him, silently praying there wouldn't be any issues. Some packs lay unofficial claim to territory close to their natal one. He is aware of this. But -

True, the guy hadn't been very polite. But they seemed to have reached some sort of understanding before it all went to shit. A duo-colored ear twitches backward, wondering if he had a problem with women. Some men did. Some men didn't. Holly found he couldn't care. To each their own issues. He had plenty to deal with himself. The healer shoots the pale man a neutral look; he isn't so much pleading for calm or asking for it. 

He does not beg for anything.

She raised her brows at him her voice still quite even, Really? Ok. So, he was totally fine then and this was normal for him. If he was just that grumpy for no reason, that was much more boring than if there was a reason behind it. At least make things fun. Did he want to be dismissed? Because it certainly seemed like he didn't want to be part of a conversation. It wasn't like she'd glued him there. Seriously, Arbiter was even on her best behavior right now! She was practically angelic in comparison to him. Quite a feat.

And so she looked back to Holland since he actually was willing to say things, No. Just near. I'm returning home. But I obviously don't know from here if you'd wandered by or not. She'd come from a direction that was not either of theirs. Are you traveling? Or what, then did he seek? And that particular use of 'you'? Could be singular or plural, but Monosyllable Man was posed in a way that didn't seem like he and Holland were friends. Or maybe they were? Wasn't like that guy had gone and said anything of use.

‘Are you travelling?’
 
“No.” He said. Sneered. Spoke for himself and only himself. Travelling implied purpose. Travelling implied a direction and a goal.
 
And Daighre? Daighre had fuck all for either, right now.

"I am traveling" A stark contrast to the other man's words. Holland could feel the tension and aggression in waves from him. He huffed quietly, slightly amused now. Wondering what his problem was but - well he wouldn't say polite - too disinterested to care. 

He would focus on Arbiter for conversation now. "What ranking do you hold in Legion?" Holland asked her bluntly, yet not unkindly. The way she carried herself suggested she had a high one, or that she was just flat out confident. He waited, yet again, for the talking. For answers.

That was all he hoped to get.

Okay, so he didn't want to be part of the conversation but he also was very determined to still be part of it? She really didn't understand what his issue was. Perhaps he was the embodiment of stubbornness. Certainly he wasn't getting any points for his answers. Either way, by now she was pretty unperturbed by his replies -- he was meeting expectations that he very quickly set up for himself. He'd earn a brief glance that lasted about as long as the syllable he said.
 
Then it was back to Holland, who she could actually talk to -- even if the whole thing was slightly weird, to be blamed on the paler man, probably. I'm its leader -- Legate, or alpha if you prefer something more traditional. A pause, another inquisitive tip of her head, Are you seeking anything in particular in your travels? That was always the more interesting side of things rather than "what have you seen."

With the attention no longer focused directly on him—
 
Daighre settled.
 
Somewhat.
 
His expression softened, and he stood, awkwardly and woodenly, his shoulders rolled forward and his tail dead weight between his hocks. Tensely and grumpily, he licked his lips.
 
Until—
 
‘I'm its leader—’
 
“Of how many?” He asked, uncaring of whatever else she said or the question she asked.
 
Maybe she wasn’t completely fucking annoying like he thought she was.

He gave a conversational nod of his head to Arbiter. Holland was not one of her people, and therefore he was a free wolf. He did not have to show fealty to her in the slightest. "I hope" but he could continue to be polite "the winter cooperates with your pack." Because nearly two years as a vagabond - he knew it was just hard to survive. 

The woman posed a question though. The russet-black man shrugged idly. "Experience" was easy enough to answer "knowledge of my craft." A forever goal, in essence. The other wolf spoke up at last, asking how many Arbiter commanded. He patiently looked between the two, wondering yet again how this would play out.

Oh, now he was curious? She blinked at the lighter man maybe twice before pulling a trick out of his book and answering with a single word, Enough. After all, she had tried to involve him before, he had in a way said no, and so she would see what he'd do when the tables were turned. It was enough for a pack. It was enough to survive. And though in the end she would have preferred larger numbers, she would take the ones she had, the ones she was happy to command.

With Holland she continued as she had been previously. Perhaps as if they hadn't been interrupted in the first place, We've seen it be worse than a normal year previously. We should be fine, even if the world desires going sideways again. She would do what was needed to survive, such was the way of the wilds, and Arbiter wasn't going to fight reality -- it was much easier to adapt than to fight in this case. What is your craft?

Exit Daighre.

He made the mistake of thinking she wasn’t a complete fucking bitch—
 
Only for his slowly changing opinion to be thrown to right back where it started.
 
‘Enough.’ She answered, short, brief, and to the point. Fucking obnoxious was how Daighre saw it.
 
He huffed.
 
Snorted.
 
And then, finally, with a shake of his head—
 
“Whatever.”
 
He was over this fucking conversation. Over her. Over him. He turned to leave, his posture slouched, and footfalls loud, his tail lashing behind him.

"Whatever" was from the man who had little to say after sitting there in near silence. Aggression rolled off him in waves again. As much as he was loathed to admit it, Holland felt the need to wrap this up. He had already stalled enough. "I am a healer" he utters to Arbiter as the other man departs. He dips his head respectfully to her though.

Despite her interruption earlier, despite her own blunt words... he found he did not care. A female leading a pack was perhaps more suiting than some overconfident males. Yes, the woman was confident but she did not air it in such an aggressive way. So Holland felt he could try to get along with her. "Forgive me" he says, lifting a brow "I do not mean to cut this short."

But he had to go. "I must seek shelter, and I had already been stopped once" he lifted a paw to Arbiter, showing his rough pads and blood-dry feet "I should clean my paws" he also gave her, sounding apologetic. Lifting himself he would turn and leave, giving a friendly enough wag to the alpha. Well, friendly enough for him. "farewell, Arbiter."

Yeah. She would continue to not be impressed by the paler man. She didn't need that sort of wolf interested in her pack. Not worth the effort. She had enough troublemakers to deal with, it just happened that they were children. He did kind of act like a child, didn't he?

Anyway. Unfortunately as that guy left, Holland was apparently keen to do similarly just when things were seeming to get interesting. Kind of frustrating, not that it really showed much beyond a flick of an ear. He would be a potential tutor for Pheiros... Except he didn't seem to be sticking around so another case of so close yet so far? How long had been Arbiter trying unsuccessfully to find someone? Still, she'd dip her head slightly, a farewell without words. If this is a place you're wanting to stay near, you should come by the Bypass again on a different day. One without that weirdo. There's a young man in my pack who would be interested in finding a teacher if that's something that would interest you. Perhaps some day someone would actually find that intriguing.