Firefly Glen so shave your face with some mace in the dark

He glanced upward, lip curling at the grey skies above that threatened to rain once more. His eyes had been on the Basin—a dream pushed aside potentially for now, given the monumental amount of water that had continuously streamed from the sky as some sick joke from Mother Nature… and, of course, the monumental loneliness.

Asterism Grove, Firebirds… above all else, damn those wolves, they had possibly made his lifestyle as a general wanderer far less appealing than his previous wayward mind cared for. He had a taste of life now—the understanding of what pack and friendship could be—particularly from a certain silver she-wolf with a rambling maw—and he craved more.

He just needed to attain it.

And so the golden wolf stood in the glen, eyes gleaming with unreadable emotion as his features remained cold. Almost calculating. There was a certain crispness to the air now—fall was upon them. With that, winter right around the bend.

He needed to figure his shit out.

The matriarch, with all that she knew, ranged away from Moonspear to inspect the Glen. Far from amused by events past she wanted to ensure that her Wilderness would be safe, if nowhere else. But from her inspection thus far, there were no such sign of them. 

Ahead there was another, who from this distance reminded her of Meerkat; as she approached, there was something distinctly masculine about his physique. Alert and prepared for anything, the matriarch chuffed in greeting. Whether he wanted company or not, Hydra intended to ascertain whether not he was a Saint, Ursine, or perhaps a better, more honest sinner such as herself.

The swing of his muzzle in the direction of the distinct scent of another came just as the woman chuffed—his eyes meeting with stark ebony and bright cerulean. The irony of a tantalizing woman coming upon him no sooner than him swearing off his manhood this upcoming season wasn’t lost on him—the amusement something he would never share with another, like so many of his thoughts.

She held herself with a certain assertion, his ears flicking forward as simmering ember eyes studied her with blank features, spare that tell-tale quirk at the corner of his lips. “Morning,” he offered, his own form remaining tense until he knew the intentions of the stranger.

He did not look unpleasant, by any stretch of the word. 

The stranger was handsome and comely, and her ears cupped as his voice was carried to her by the autumn wind. He did not appear to mind her company, though there was little on him to read but for that quirk playing at the edges of his lips. If she were any ordinary woman, or perhaps younger, all of this combined would have disarmed her quite effectively. 

Hydra reminded herself of the real threat that existed in the Wilds. That not so long ago lurked in the Wilderness, too. Morning, she drawled in turn, reveling in the pleasantly chilly crispness of the hour. Summer had been whisked away by the month-long deluge of August. It smelled like it might rain, in some odd hours... but for now, they were safe from it. The earth still carried the burden of the endless rainfall, her paws sinking into it. She was careful to keep moving, not desiring to be mired down by it as she drew nearer, hoping to catch his scent should he permit it. For the timebeing, there was no indication of her intent—and no sign of malevolence. 

That could change as quickly as a second came and went, though, should his scent reveal to her any contact with those that she considered enemy. Though she was in good enough humor, Hydra had determined that should they show hide or hair in her domain they would be dealt with thusly. If no one else could teach that lot that actions had consequences, she certainly would.

The interlude thus far remained pleasant enough—unbeknownst to the Ostrega that a viper lay before him, poised to strike should the moment warrant it. He had been used to such company in the past—been there himself, even. Perhaps his times in the Wilds had caused his guarded walls to crumble—and so his eyes swept over the woman before him, stilling as she closed some of the distance between them.

She was cat-like in grace—something he could greatly appreciate, and the agouti wolf shifted his form, hardened but lean sinew shifting beneath the thickening pelt that the cold autumn encouraged. “Pippin Ostrega,” he decided to offer, one ear twitching in quiet thought. “You from one of the neighboring packs?”

Wraen had once sent him out to scout for a certain trouble-making band. He might have left the bad taste of the Firebirds behind, but it didn't necessarily make him a free agent.

He introduced himself then, without her prompting—and it was his provided surname that caused Hydra's gaze to linger upon him longer, albeit without any traces of hardness to it now. Interest was more accurate a word, but not the predatory sort that she oft had when surveying strangers. He was stranger no more; he was family. With that, too, was the fact that he wore the scents of the wild and not of her enemies.

Hydra Ostrega, she introduced, and were he to depict any warmth from her then it would not be a trick of the eye but truth. Hydra was always eager to meet family, and surprised to learn there was more she did not know within the Teekon. She had the good fortune to meet another here, @Andalusia... and later on in life, her children. She knew not if Pippin was a brother to the woman, or from some other branch—but all that mattered to her was that they were of the same strong, sturdy tree. I am, she answered, proudly gesturing to the grand peaks that stood in the backdrop. I am Moonspear's Queen. And what of you? Who is it that you run with? She asked, curious and hopeful that he might run with none so that she might bring him to the place where he could reunite with the rest of their family, should he so desire this as well.

Warmth was not a word he would have considered when studying the woman before him—though upon revealing his name, he noticed the gleam in her eyes flicker to something else, and only when she provided her own surname did he grasp why.

The sharing of a last name might have intrigued her, but Pippin could only feel a wave of foreboding drift over him. He had spent minimal time with the Ostrega’s in Sedona Valley, but none of his immediate family had been there. So which branch did she extend from? Did she know the shame he seemingly brought upon his family? When it had all happened on the Sunspire Mountains and his first kill ever?

His tongue slid over his lips thoughtfully, unsure how to navigate this conversation and trying not to reveal his frayed thoughts to the likely astute woman before him. “No one, now,” he responded. “Just drifting.”

He did not warm to her in turn upon the information he gained. Curious as to the reason for that, but not at all suspicious as things stood as of yet, her nostrils flared to further take in his scent. Nothing of Andalusia nor Sebastian, or any other distant Ostrega she had met in passing. Who, then? It truly did not matter in the scheme of things, but the sprawling branches of their family tree were ones Hydra quite enjoyed exploring. 

Drifting. A favored pastime of many in their family—those that had become scouts, or someday would. And are you happy, drifting? Alone? she asked next, wondering if that was the life he wished to lead. She could not imagine it for any; as a pack animal, the idea of permanent solitude was one that she would never personally understand.

For as seemingly welcome as the woman made to be, the Ostrega notes that she was quite curious about him--only pulled as an assumption from the many questions she asked him. 

He was simply thankful they weren't questions that revolved around the weather or the latest herd migrations. 

Yet her question proved interesting insight to the tawny wolf--grappling internally against his first inclination to simply keep his true thoughts and feelings to himself. 

"No," he truthfully answered, the streamlined muscles in his shoulders flexing almost uncomfortably as he shrugged in the pretense of nonchalance. "But I'm used to it."

There was a small pause, wishing to steer the conversation further away from him. "I didn't know there were more Ostrega's here. Is it just you?"

Hydra licked her chops as she regarded him, considered his answer. Used to unhappiness, used to loneliness... That simply should not be. Not for her family. Not for anyone but for her enemies, really. His inquiry brought a nod from her, and after a moment more of thinking Hydra had decided. 

Come home with me, she drawled, so that we can put an end to your loneliness. I think you will find happiness in Moonspear, too, she drawled, but him being used to it could simply be his own way. It might take time for him to come out of himself, but among family, when he was ready to, she imagined he would. Winter drew nearer; she could not, in good conscience, leave him out in the cold.

The stark shadow invited him to her. A promise of family. Kin. He regarded her with open interest--perhaps even near disbelief. Was this not what he had sought for some time now? He had even tried to settle in Sedona, but the valleys he had been born to called to him.

And now he was presented with the familiarity of blood. In the darker corners of his mind, his thoughts considered Wraen's worry of the Moonspear wolves. Just as quickly, he disregarded them for now. "Yeah," he replied. "Okay. "

Was it truly that easy?

She was pleased with his swift acceptance; it would not do to dawdle, in these times. And so she turned to lead him toward home. There is much to know of the going ons of the Wilderness at present, she drawled, and I will tell you of them along the way. But should you grow weary of it, tell me, and I can save the rest for some other day, she hummed. I suppose firstly, though, I should share with you news of all the family you will come to meet, hm? she grinned, darting forward. You tell me where to begin, she offered with a sway of her tail, eyes bright as she began to head toward Moonspear with the latest Ostrega she had found in tow.

The directness she implemented was something he appreciated. Kin. The concept was foreign to him and yet as the tawny wolf fell to step with the regal warrior, it almost felt natural. 

Coming home. 

She would divulge information to him--the ins and outs of this Moonspear so many Ostrega's inhabited and for once he felt a true purpose forming.

A distraction

Tell me everything, he rumbled, attention upon her as his eyes scanned the lands they passed. Their conversation lasted them the entirety of the journey. And as Moonspear loomed before him, he felt only solace.