Redsand Canyon it's awfully groovy seeing all the treasure and the booty

the season was coming to a close; val had enjoyed his wayfaring ways, but even he -- as young and as inexperienced as he was -- saw the way the fat on his body had melted away to trim muscle. how his energy had become something to be saved and conserved rather than spent -- and around him, the rest of the world was transitioning much the same.

he had a vague notion of returning home to his parents -- he missed both terribly -- but being a terrible navigator, he had no earthly idea how close or far the coast was. but he knew with winter creeping up on his heels, that now was no time for pilgrimages.

finding himself on the periphery of packlands, val coursed the border curiously. it was an area that seemed well patrolled, boasting several scents unrecognizable to him. around him were the criss-crossed scent of prey, and somewhere inland, the fresh and enticing smell of riverwater.

slouched carefully by the border, the young male threw back his head in a howl that rose up along the shuddering orange leaves of fall, and gradually dissipated into the chill autumn air along wispy white clouds.

The Grandmaster perked her ears as she drank from the stream that went through the communal denning area.
A howl for her presence, and she was never one to keep a potential recruit waiting. 
Nyra took off, eventually arriving upon the waiting young man.

"I am Nyra, Grandmaster of the Saints. State your business." 

few things on earth could have prepared val for the windstrider that met him. her height, her savagery, the way her eyes seemed to sweep him up and gobble him whole. a nervousness veined out within him, nearly threatening to empty the contents of his bladder.

he'd been away from society and normalized life for a long time, and yet even he remembered to avert his gaze, to lick, to keep his posture lower than that of the grandmaster that dwarfed him in every retrospect.

in her presence words -- which had often come so blithely and easy to him -- seemed suddenly hard. he knew what to say and yet could find no command over his faithless tongue.

state your business imperiled him, and he could find no courage to speak.

The boy was immediately submissive, nervous. 
Nyra's hardened stance and intense gaze softened upon him some, and she offered a more gentle approach in hopes to coax him out of the shell she put him in.

"What's your name?" Nyra asked patiently, swaying her tail some.

[font=cambria] oh thank god -- val nearly exhaled heavily as nyra shifted, from grim baroness to something softer -- nearly maternal. his gaze averted swiftly, his bright pink tongue brought nervously across tense lips.

his name -- his business -- he knew both of these things. what the fuck was wrong with him? was he stupid? did he hit his head?

his throat cleared, and the voice that came out of it seemed so minuscule val nearly withered from shame. "val." he could do better than that. he wasn't a giant bitch, right? what the hell was his problem? he knew why he was here. why. couldn't. he. make. his. tongue. work?

"do you have room? for me, i mean? i can hunt, if you need me to do something in exchange or something."

Val was his name. 
Nyra smiled as he nervously asked if the Saints had room for him.
If he could join the fold.

"Of course, young man. Though we are in need of more warriors than hunters, that can come in time. Follow me." Nyra spoke with continued softness, turning some and watching the youth to see if he'd fall in at her side.

she was softer yet, but still the feralness in val's demeanor did not dissipate. he had spent a long time -- most of his short life at this point -- wayfaring. and one did not wayfare for long if they were not naturally skittish of every thing which came their way.

he followed anyway, his eyes drawn to the deep scars of red that marked the sands in long rakes and gouges. "i could fight." he murmured abstractedly, wondering what beast it was that carved its path among the canyons. "why do you need warriors?"

Nyra smiled almost sadly, hearing the boy say he could fight. 
With a small sigh, the Grandmaster answered "Because we are soon going to war. I made a reckless choice by attempting to kill someone, now I must follow through. We are also planning to move against a pack called Ursus, if they do not come to us first. I will train you personally, if you need it." She offered, looking to him to gauge his reaction. Would he still stay, despite these things?

val was young. the heaviness of war -- the finality of it -- was lost on him. following his new grandmaster, the boy didn't ponder things like why or what he'd be risking (everything). instead, he pondered his mothers -- would they like nyra? would they be happy with him running among warmongers?

like any boy, images of his mothers were held close to his heart when convenient, and kept away when thoughts became to heavy to hold. "you'd train me?" he asked, breathless with excitement.

Nyra noted his excitement and smiled in an almost motherly manner. 
This kid is going to die. 
She thought this, but in Val she could see potential, the eagerness to do good and to please. 
But she needed him to understand the great heavyness of his staying. 

"Yes, I will teach you. But I must be clear - going to war means you could die. It means any of us could. But if you know how to fight, or at least defend yourself well, then the chances of being killed are less. But never nonexistent. I myself am a mercenary, I bear many scars and will likely obtain many more, but even I am not invincible. No creature is." Nyra said, a seriousness to her voice now, so Val might see the stakes. 
Her intense gaze, however, remained kind. 

"If you are willing to stay, and learn, despite these things, then I will show you to our main den site."