Wapun Meadow oh aberdeen, you've been calling to me

His lips pursed—skirting around the vague edges of the bear valley and noting the rising scents that lay within. It would be a pack—the calico-furred man coming to mind, and he considered the reasons why the man had not admitted his intentions.

The gentlest of flurries settled about him—his thoughts drifting to what had once been the foolish notion of peace among the packs of the valley. An alliance between a trio—and now a fourth—

—given everything that had occurred… it felt corrupted, now. Tainted.

His gaze flitted to the direction of the three other packs now—from the meadow, they certainly seemed close together, and he held a moment of gratitude that the creek rest away from them.

Of course, that hadn’t protected the swiftcurrent creek wolves from seeming to entertain drama first among those of the valley.

Dusk settled upon the valley like a blanket—and while soon he would turn home to his comrades, for now, he felt a certain anticipation—as if once more, there was a change upon the wind… and it wasn’t necessarily one for the better.

cameo unless noticed!

what had drawn silvertongue from her bed, from wren's side, and from riverclan, she would not know. perhaps it was the slow heating of her blood. perhaps it was the strength in her at last raising her head. but she left behind the shadowed safety of the beautiful trees and went out into the open. at first she had no destination. gunnar was dead and akavir — she did not approach kvarsheim or swiftcurrent, but found herself in a snowy meadow outside a valley she had only just started to investigate. and she was not alone. the glassblue eyes raised to see a painfully familiar figure in the long distance. for a moment she stared, breath catching, then turned away sharply and started back for riverclan. she did not know what she could possibly say.

he knew this man. there had been an honest desire in ancelin to find a new home for his small family. but the valley provided so very much. amneris and athalia were happy there. why should they leave? they could take their hunting grounds somewhere else, maybe even the taiga if need be.
ancelin watched from his perch atop the sentinel stone, but for once did not approach in aggression. the indigo eyes were firm, however, missing nothing, including the smear of silver which quickly retreated.

Watchful eyes—it felt once more as if Ibis watched him—haunting him. He paused, eyes tracig the setting sun and purple hues of the sky. The fur along his nape stood sharp—and calculating eyes cast toward a glimpse of silver, before the shadows enveloped them.

Silvertongue, who struck him in the desert—and walked with strangers after. He assumed her dead—and with that belief, a piece of him as well—for she had refused to come home to them all.

Wren, too, had left.

His eyes shuttered close for a moment of reprieve, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “Trodaiche beag,” he murmured aloud—as if the ghost of her could hear him once more.

When he opened his eyes then, it was met with the distant but fierce gaze of violet, and he arched his brows upward, lifting his muzzle up—waiting for dismissal or acknowledgement.

So the calico man was on guard.

Good.

missing all of the silent drama, ancelin only had eyes for the man akavir — who did not retreat.
and so the younger wolf at last came down, pacing from red dirt to the snows of wapun. he fought the urge to arc yellow reeking urine over the expanse and approached, but left distance between he and the creek man.
"is there something you need?" ancelin asked conversationally, though again, the directness of his eyes was less than friendly, more guarded than aggressive.
for now.

Pale eyes followed the colorful form—the lavender-eyed wolf quick to cut to the chase, and Akavir withheld the smallest smirk at the tone offered. It wasn’t outwardly challenging—nor was the youthful an entirely inviting.

Akavir’s gaze swept past him, looking toward the direction of the bearclaw valley before falling back upon the other man. “No—scouting, keeping an eye on things,” he offered, his own tone lofty, bar guarded. It would seem the other had chosen to settle within the valley, after all.

“We had a couple of wolves come by our borders and offer a hefty bounty for the head of a man who attacked one of their wives. Aging man of black fur—silver eyes. Some grey on his face.” Spare the eyes—and Akavir would like to think some of the grey in the face—the men had all but described him and a handful of others within the vicinity. Still—“They hailed from two different packs. One called Moontide, and one called Moonsong.”

when akavir didn't offer any guff about the valley, ancelin felt some tension leave him. it was swiftly replaced by interest, sheening his indigo eyes with a deepening and perhaps malicious intrigue.
he thought back to the murderous conversation that he and ameline had held before leaving the rise — ancelin's crafty mind saw a way to kill two birds dead with one stone.
"we'll keep an eye out for the bastard," the younger wolf assured. "don't know either of those packs, but i'll remember the names."
ancelin flicked his tongue across the front of his teeth and glanced off in the direction of the taiga. that this man himself sort of matched the description was not lost on him. "a bounty, huh? must be a pretty bad guy."

“They didn’t say exactly what he had done—actually they offered six deer, delivered over the next couple of seasons for the man’s head. Described as black and aging.”

The dryness might have been apparent to the other wolf—Akavir didn’t know. A careful gaze cast to him—a rueful smirk offered. “We only gained other small feature descriptions when asking for more.”

It was a tempting bounty—particularly for any wolf or fledgling pack that struggled. Still—Akavir didn’t necessarily feel regret would come to the two men should they come collect the head of the offender and realize a wolf or pack had slain the wrong man—not with such basic descriptions.

“But you mentioned you have family, so I imagine you’d want to know.”

black and aging? sucks to be you, dude, ancelin thought, charitably keeping such sentiments to himself in hopes of keeping whatever passed for regard from akavir. "lotta deer," he mumbled, then shot the other a wry look that asked worth it?
"are we both family guys then?" ancelin teased, and this time he did laugh, enjoying the banter. he wasn't ready to talk about how he had come by the girls; it really didn't matter now anyway.
"if i find the guy, do we split it?" the bearclaw asked, sort of warming to the idea.

‘Lotta deer,’ the more youthful man stated, and Akavir gave his agreement with the cant of his muzzle to a small nod. It was the enquiry about family that gave him pause—the slap of that statement not something the other man could have known.

“Mine are all grown up and exploring the Wilds and world,” he offered, studying the other man with the hint of a smile. “But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to protect them.”

At the mention of dividing the prize—his smile turned darker. “I told the two men that offered the bounty that it’s the Creek’s goal to keep peace among the valley and we’ve no qualms taking trouble out without a prize in the end. But yeah—that would feed a lot of hungry mouths over the next few months,” he mused quietly. 

He shrugged then, shifting his weight, feeling the breeze of winter play along the short fur of his ankles. "But mostly a heads up would be appreciated if you find him."

ancelin considered this for a moment, then took a leap of faith on this, fighting against the harsh bite of suspicion and mistrust always roiling in his gut. "mine are pretty young, born the end of summer. never saw their mom. they're learning to make their way."
he almost asked if it was hard to let them go, but akavir was moving on. the boy gave an affirmative nod, agreeing to let the creek know. he rolled his shoulders, intrigued by the thought of this hunt. "count us in to help if you see him first," ancelin offered with a wry little twist to his mouth.

Whether the man meant they were biologically his and the mother had died, or he had just taken them in and raised them as his own, he was uncertain. He didn’t pry—it was never his nature to ask too many personal questions of others… at least so soon into meeting them.

The tri-colored wolf gave a nod to him—the conversation direction indicative of ending, and he found his own lips twist with a similar wry smirk—thus far, the other packs of the valleys had been harbingers of peace and healing… allegedly.

Perhaps this one was a little more kindred to the creek, in which they would not shy from a fight, if need be. “Likewise,” he offered, casting the youthful man an appraising look. “Perhaps once you and yours are more settled, we can discuss a joined pack hunt to celebrate spring.”

Whether the invitation would be extended to the others in the valley… he had little desire to reach out. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t, in time.

a pack hunt? that sounded nice. ancelin was reminded in a fierce way of how the redtail wolves had once coursed with those from sapphique; he fought off the stab of longing and refocused on akavir, on their cooling talk.
"yeah, for sure. good looks," he grinned, masterfully controlling himself from adding gramps to the end of it.
he jerked his chin and headed off, back toward the valley to inform his mate of how they should regard akavir.

‘Good looks,’ he was told—and instantly he felt archaic. Was this some new slang?

Perhaps these thoughts appeared on his features—but Ancelin was also retreating now, and Akavir found a certain air of bemusement emanating from himself.

Without another word, the swarthy man swept away—back to the direction of his home, his mind already calculating just how many packs had now begun to forge themselves within the valley—and how they would need to bolster their own numbers if anything headed south.