Neverwinter Forest i open to the sound

in the dawning hours of the new morning rasalas makes his way towards the place of his birth; capable of finding it in a way he hadn't been able to the last time. he carries with him the burden of uncertainty; unsure what awaits him, an anxiousness gnawing at him made worse by the dreary grey light of the cool, overcast day. he takes a deep breath in an effort to steady his nerves — it has been some time since he's seen his mother, his father, his twin.

when he arrives, he finds neverwinter forest long abandoned; no scents aside from stragglers and prey. he pokes around his once-home cautiously, but ultimately unsurprised; lingering further in the realm of uncertainty. he could stay here for a few days, he supposes — rest from his journey but knows he will not linger for longer than that. there was nothing here for him; not anymore and rasalas sees little point in holding onto the past.

the empty fields upon which she and the boy are living are just that—empty. bereft of anything to sustain them for the long haul. Avicus is tired of searching in scrub brush and within abandoned badger-dens only to come up with nothing.

so she enters the forest, thinking of Ursus as she does so.

the valley was forested, but not so much as this. it's a lush dark green canopy above her, and the air is sweet and heavy. pine needles carpet the ground beneath her paws, and the occasional cone; she kicks one now, watching it skitter ahead, letting the dormant child in her surface before it retreats once more.

her eyes follow its path and then stop, lighting upon the silvery figure up ahead. he's mostly hidden at this distance, showing in spots through the brush, but as she grows closer, so too does he become more solid.

a yearling—or nearly so. like her, like Karst. Avicus gives him a bark of imperious inquiry, tail sweeping upward in accustomed dominance.

rasalas feels the weight of physical exhaustion in the ache of his muscles; in the instinctive desire to find a safe — as safe as could be in neutral territory, anyway — place to bed down. mis-matched gaze casts 'round the familiar forest of his childhood without affection. perhaps once, had his life turned out different, he might've grown to see neverwinter as his birthright. hierarchy was important, as social creatures they craved it ...but in allusus it was constantly shifting; changing and morphing as wolves challenged, rose and fell within the ranks.

rasalas never participated; too young to be taken seriously and during his first stint with them too scared, malnourished and injured. the second stint, he simply was content to sit back and watch; ride each regime shift out.

birthright was a lie.

a soft snort pushes from rasalas' black leathery nose as he keeps his pace; steps pausing and muscles pulling taunt beneath his orchid grey pelage as he realizes he is not alone. an imperious inquiry held within the bark given to him and mis-matched gaze locks upon the other yearling. a stranger. rasalas' nostrils flare and his hackles bristle with uncertainty. he eyes her coolly, a challenge to her assumed authority on neutral territory, if that was how she chose to saw it.

he did not bow to any — least of all another ( he assumes ) loner.

her posturing is not meant as a challenge; Avicus does it unconsciously. before Aventus had risen to his post, she had been accustomed to getting everything she wanted—to being the princess of the valley. her haughtiness runs deep as blood within her, and it will take nothing less than a cataclysm in her life to bring the girl humility.

still, even if she doesn't mean anything by her body language, she is not unaware of his response. it rankles her; she feels her hackles raise, fur bristling.

who are you? she asks (demands?), stepping closer to the young man. he's a curious-looking fellow, mottled gray with mismatched eyes. she's seen that before, she thinks, mind moving back in time to Skoll. 

and he does not live here. does he live anywhere? his pelt betrays nothing.