King Elk Forest a journey (a dream of flight)

Darkness lurked just beyond the sunset and it carried with it the promise of night. Stars had already started to speck the sky and the moon hung against a fading blue to look down at him. 

The wandering crow. 

The shadow of a wolf slunk through the forest. He sniffed at each shrub with a twitch of his whiskers. 

It did not appear that Crowfeather had eaten in some time. His ribs had begun to show through the sheen in his dark fur coat. The dull yellow of his eyes were more sunken, sullen. 

He knew he would need to bed for the night. 

The forest chirped to life - crickets or cicadas - and an owl hooted ominously from its perch. The wolf paused and breathed a single labored breath into the trees.

The over large male walked toward home as the sun sunk below the horizon with a several fat frogs dangling from his maw, his belly full of the semi aquatic creatures. The frogs were alive but dangling limply accepting their fate calmly so far, that or perhaps they were just traumatized. This time he was hoping to bring a meal for his wife somehow he always found himself interrupted.

He almost passed right by a stranger and he really should if he planned on making it home before full dark but he just couldn't so he slowed to a stop and nodded a hello grinning around his prizes.

Crowfeather had searched, sniffed, sought any sign that other wolves belonged to that forest. When the stranger appeared, his heart had started, jumped in his chest. 

The other wolf had a mouth full of... frogs. For a heartbeat, Crow felt he might have been hallucinating. Lack of sustenance and what have you. The grin that accompanied the jawload of slippery things did nothing to help. 

Er- nice frogs.

The shadow of a wolf averted his eyes to the ground, regret evident. 

Crowfeather had a unique talent for displaying awkward behavior in social situations. A trait he had not done well to grow out of.

The filthy white brute watched the other male with a friendly smile on his maw. He was used to wolves not having the best social skills he was part of the Saints of the Dying Light Pack after all, a mostly socially inept and bitey pack.

He lowered his head and dropped the frogs and then stepped on their legs pinning them to the ground so the he could speak. “Hello friend. I’m Vein, Medic to the nearby pack The Saints, Would you like one?”

He indicated the three trapped green meals, He knew just by looking at this one that he could probably use all three. One frog made a large ribbit noise and attempted to jump, finding it was still trapped it lay still again resigned.

'Friend...'

'Vein...'

'Medic...'

All that was said was considerably overwhelming to the crow. He did what he could to listen, to understand the message that was attempted to be conveyed, and yet he was filled with uncertainty. 

Until the final offering left the mouth of the wolf called Vein. An offering to share his sweets. 

Crowfeather looked to him again, distrust and fear in his honey eyes. 

Vein of what? he inquired first. He was certain that that couldn't have been the male's full name. Crowfeather was unaware of the various naming conventions outside of his birth home. 

Then, with a ravaged look at the frogs that were being pinned to the earth, Crowfeather felt his stomach lurch with need. What would I have to do? For a frog? 

Nothing came for free. He had learned this lesson long before.

His deep rumble filled the air as he laughed wholeheartedly, That was a question he had never been asked, not once since he changed his named to Vein. He chose to leave his birth name behind with his birthplace, he couldn’t say birth-pack for they did not exist anymore.  “Vein is the name I choose to call myself, and to get a frog all you have to do is tell me yours”

The overlarge white brute reached down and snapped the neck of one of the frogs then tossed it toward his new acquaintance without waiting for the name. He’d not press even if the other ate the frog and ran, intact he half expected it

Vein kept his posture friendly, even swayed his relaxed tail a few times. He watched the male with amusement still hinting in his sun golden eyes

Oh, so Vein was the shortened name he had opted for. Crowfeather had never come upon someone with one so minimal, but he could only assume that those were the conventions that were used for most who were named in these parts.

To gain a frog, all he had to do was share his own moniker.

Crowfeather felt his chest thump with each heartbeat that racked his ribs.

I am From the Crow’s Wing, his introduction was offered still with a look of distrust, of uncertainty.

Who would offer a frog for a name?

The dark young figure then simpered, you can call me Crowfeather, I guess. As he too had selected a shortened version of his name, a shortened version that he too preferred for others to call him.

When the frog landed in a sloppy little fwump at his paws, he darted forward and sunk his sharp fangs into its plump little aquatic body. In a moment of time, Crowfeather was ravaging the prey he had been offered.

The overlarge brute grinned watching his offering being eaten with such gusto. It made him proud, perhaps he would be a good father after all. The words this one spouted was confusing ‘From the Crow’s Wing’ Was this one from an obscure pack he didn’t know about.?

Vein sniffed the air; this one didn’t seem to smell of a pack, but then his nose was much more attuned to plants then wolf scents so he shrugged off his confusion and filed away the information. “Well Crowfeather my good fellow, if you find yourself in need of a pack and or a home to lay your head upon, then Come to the strath and tell them Vein sent.”

Vein thought for a moment and his deep bass rumbled again  “Or you could come with me now and find a home and a pack to hunt with.”

He reached down and picked up the other frogs waiting a moment or two to see what this stranger would do now. Ready to lead the way or continue on alone.

Crowfeather didn’t really like how Vein appeared to sniff at him. What was he going to say? That he didn’t smell like someone who should be named for a crow’s feather? That would be rude. The scary white wolf had been far from rude in the time spent in his company.

I’m not really a fighter, he stated after Vein had spoken.

Something in him felt like the home that Vein called the strath valued the strong sort. Even this, a medic, was surely capable of battle. It would not have surprised Crowfeather to find that he had taken the lives of others fighting for his home.

It was what warriors did.

Go with him… now?

Worry etched across his dark, pointed face.

To your home? Your pack? They would hunt with me?

RL stuff has been snapping at my heels, I will not be able to respond again until Monday the 26th family camping trip this weekend

Vein dropped the frogs one more time and pinned them the frogs seemed even more traumatized, as he pinned their legs beneath his forepaw. One tried hopping over and over again but just cold not get free Vein chuckled at it's feeble attempts and licked it which somehow seemed to either calm the frog or mesmerize it because it lay still.

Satisfied he turned his attention to Crowfeather, "I don't keep this shape by wasting my time fighting." He grinned "I might be able to stop a fight by sitting on someone though" The overlarge white brute chuckled at his joke. "Of course the pack would hunt with you, The more the merrier. if you want we could eat these frog's right now I'll hunt with you and we could bring it to the pack as an offering. To show them your hunting prowess and willingness to work with others, then we can eat it all"

Vein's tail swayed at the thought of more food. He wondered if he could con this one into doing most of the work in the hunt.

Oh no worries, mate! I’m quite patient. You take your time, of course.

This had to be a trap.

There was no reason for this wolf, this wolf called Vein, to be so kind to him. They had only just met, after all. Crowfeather had nothing to offer him. He was scrawny and distrustful. If Vein was not an anomaly, there was no chance that an entire pack would react similarly.

The confidence that Vein had in his answer only made Crowfeather more nervous, worried that he had made a mistake by running away.

At the sound of being offered more to eat, however… Crowfeather could not help but to stare longingly at the frogs. His stomach ached with the thought of being able to eat more.

All it would take was to follow this man.

I- I don’t know, he sputtered lamely.

Deciding against it, Crowfeather bid the man farewell and escaped into the trees.