Mudminnow River every hermit crab needs a shell

Fredrick had been wandering along the river, now, for probably an hour.

The white goliath held himself at a consistent pace, paws heaving him forwards as he slunk across the riverbed. Tail swishing against the plant life that sprung up from the waters' edge, the man pondered on the presence of anything edible here, but otherwise continued on, only aimlessly testing the air for scents every now and then.

Again, he raised his nose, allowing the smells of the area to sink into him, and a pack scent registered in his mind. Only a few ways south-west of here, too. A day or two of travel, should he want to say hello -- which was unlikely for the hermit that he was. Instead, it proved to him that there was life within these territories (rather than being lush but otherwise empty, aside from a deer or two, of which he had wandered through once before).

Considering the presence of other wolves here, Frederick wondered if his brother, Adrian, would be around here, somewhere. Taking a deep breath, squeezing sage eyes closed, he held--one, two, three--and released, scanning the area around him.

Maybe Adrian would come to him. But that would be wishful thinking.

when lestan had come down from the mountains, swiftcurrent was his goal; a return to the land he hardly knew and from which he remembered nothing. yet — yet he remained. he stayed. 
in the grand aim of finding yet another den, lestan had hunted several hyrax. their skins though small would pad the interior of some depression in winter prepare.
he went beyond the creek, however; the image of that deer-bone talisman began to beat in his head, curling his lip. and when lestan awoke, it was into the black madness, the mixture of french and gaelic which poured indescribably from his bedlamite self.
when the man returned to himself, he was plodding aimlessly along a river.
a gasp; lestan stopped short, staring around himself in a frantic whirl; he did not recognize at first anything, but froze in fear and surprise to see that his river foray was not unaccompanied.
a veritable glacier of towering snow, that wolf seemed to be searching for something, and lestan did not know what to do beneath the weighty eyes.

Up ahead, a man--almost a similar colour to the river they travelled against--came forward, clearly not himself. Was that murmuring he heard? Frederick would tower over him if he were any closer. But he remained a length away, eyeing the strange one curiously. Frozen, it appeared. Hello? He offered. Voice deep, gravelly. Almost a hum that could seem to rattle the ground. Are you alright, there?

Taking a breath in, Frederick smelt others on his coat, but no nearby pack scent to explain it. Was the stranger far from home? It appeared so. Maybe he had been sleepwalking, with how out-of-it he'd looked only a few moments earlier. The mammoth tilted his head, squinting, brow-bone scar shifting with his new expression. Are you lost? Frederick knew that he, himself, could be considered 'lost'. Yet he wouldn't dwell on that just yet, focusing on the stranger. His first of this region.

"l-lost?" lestan murmured numbly, not registering that he was being spoken to until he saw belatedly the stranger's mouth move. "lost! oh, oh, n-no. i kn-know — i'm aware of wh-where i am," lestan said, great effort spent to keep the stammer in check.
"i am, admittedly, a l-little di-disoriented s-since coming down fr-from the m-mountains," the mayfair revealed, a small self-mocking smile on his face below the eyes which warmed to the conversation. "what ab-about y-yourself? y-you're not l-lost, are y-you? the r-rising s-sun valley can be qu-quite large if y-you're unused t-to it."
how poised of him to discourse as if he had not been muttering to himself some forgotten minutes ago.

A stutter was the first thing Frederick noticed. One of biology--was he born with it?--or one of nervousness? He listened to him speak, blinking apathetically each time he tripped over his words, paying attention to the content of his sentences instead. Not lost, Frederick noticed. He nodded his head. A journey from the mountains. Left disoriented. He hummed.

A bit, Frederick said, glancing around at the sights before them. Hollow to the south, mountains to the west, another rise to the north. And behind him, east, where the river extended outwards for a little while longer. I suppose I am unused to it. I've only just arrived. Searching for his brother, Adrian--information that would be withheld for now, in case he was around. Frederick didn't want to spook him. Was he a flight risk?

Fredrick had not forgotten, but he would not mention the strange behaviours if the stranger did not comment on it. Explain it. Stranger. I am Fredrick, he tilted his head forwards as a greeting, tail flicking back and forth, now. Who are you?

"lestan m-mayfair, of s-swiftcurrent creek," he introduced when frederick had said his own name. and it was somehow quite fitting for the quaint giant, who surely was used to being assumed a brute by way of size. lestan in his own assumption had done the same, and with a flush of embarrassment he found gratitude that he had been so wrong.
"w-well, y-you're in a m-marvelous place. good h-hunting and better c-company. the creek is the l-largest," he said lightly. "far m-more welcoming t-to newcomers th-than others ar-around. i've j-just come b-back myself."
awkward then; he did not know how to voice his questions about the other, or if he should. lestan's tail stirred in a friendly way to echo that of frederick, peace enough in the wolfish gesture.

Swiftcurrent Creek, hm? Either that was his home, or his pack name. Maybe both, but it would explain the scent. Nothing like his family: scent of caribou, carnation. Cold air and, for Frederick in particular, the lands before this one. Pleasure, Lestan. A cool smile, blinking. You say more welcoming--are other packs hostile? He queried, directing the flow of conversation onto this man, Lestan Mayfair.

Sitting back with a mighty thump, Frederick rested his tail against the ground, curling it towards his flank every now and then. A break from mindless wandering could prove to be useful. Especially if it meant that he'd find himself with a new acquaintance. Another question, just to keep him talking: Come back from where--a nice trip, I hope?

"toothy, m-more like," lestan jested weakly. "but k-kvarsheim is n-not far. we're fr-friendly with them, or at l-least polite." beside them, the river rushed along its silty trail, and its rushing noise. frederick was the first to signal that their meet might be less tense. the irony was that even when he settled, he was still quite imposing! 
gingerly, lestan did the same, maneuvering himself down. nervous paws began to pluck immediately at the grass. "well. i m-mean it tw-twiceways. i was h-hunting the m-mountains today and am h-happy to b-be back. but b-before that, i was g-gone a l-long time from th-the creek."
tapping a small pile of shredded green, lestan smiled weakly. "un-unfortunately, that j-journey was — unpleasant." clearing his throat, the mayfair glanced at frederick. "w-ere you l-looking for s-something j-just now?"

Kvarsheim, another pack. Maybe nearby, maybe friendly. He’d have to keep the name in mind, should he seek refuge someplace. Lestan, too, sat down. Mimicking the beasts motion. Jaggedly plucking at stems, tapping against them. Strange behaviours. Ones that were anxious, or merely the nature of such a character? He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully at the question directed his way.

Hmm. I guess so. Something, someone, it’s irrelevant, Frederick blinked, tapping his tail against the ground as he thought to himself. Kvarsheim—what are they like? I might pay them a visit, unless you’d enjoy having me at your creek. The man flashed a charming, toothy grin, before settling back into an easy smile. His eyes, though, blue-green like little earths, remained intense, constant thoughts swimming behind them like white little fish.

Oh, and—What’s your pack like, Lestan, may I ask?

"i d-doubt it's irrelevant," lestan said without thinking. his eyes widened in horror then! his lips pressing into a line that damned himself. "my a-apologies. i won't p-press," the mayfair offered in an attempt to rebound from his faux pas. 
were he of another species, lestan would surely appear a grimy haggard man stuffed into a bedraggled waistcoat. he might have even wiped his sweaty hands on it, taken right off his guard by frederick's easy smile. "yes. you w-would l-like it th-there."
"i — well. a-akavir is the one to a-ask. i know they had an old l-leader. and i th-think new leaders are th-there. you s-see th-that i am n-no help in th-this r-regard."
swiftcurrent creek. "akavir l-leads it. we're c-cousins. there are t-two other l-leaders, arric and arlette." another pile of grass slowly raised its head in a tiny heap. "dedicated to p-peace, b-but also g-great alliances of th-the entire r-region. t-trade and information."
overhead a kestrel cried, and lestan tilted his head to watch its path. "in f-fact, frederick," and thank all the fates he'd managed not to stutter over the other's name, "akavir h-has t-taken some others and g-gone to a v-very large g-gathering of m-many packs. if th-there — if it's in-information you n-need, he m-might have it wh-when he g-gets back."
at last the honeyblue of the mayfair's eyes climbed in morning glory shyness to the watered green of the other's gaze, but only for a moment.

His tactlessness was found somewhat amusing, and Frederick dipped his head in appreciation only a moment after Lestan practically zipped his mouth shut before apologising. He wondered if Lestan was right, whether the snow-ridden man would enjoy the company of the Swiftcurrent wolves. Akavir, the name lingered in his mind for a moment. That of a leader, he thought. A chief. A strong name, even. And then, at the mentions of them being cousins, Frederick couldn't stop his eyes from widening in a slight shock. Quickly, he relaxed his brows, meandering his paws against the earth, kneading.

So it seemed that Swiftcurrent Creek was a friend to all. Peace, trade, information, perhaps Frederick could get his paws on something valuable to bargain for the whereabouts of his brother. He flicked his tail apathetically at the kestrals' call, glancing upwards for a moment before returning piercing eyes onto the dirt-looking fellow ahead of him. It seemed quite a compliment that he hadn't stuttered on Frederick's name, almost causing him to look smug when he smiled next. Call me Fred, if you like. He said.

Information could be useful, he hummed to himself. If he'd been born a bipedal, fleshy species, he'd be scratching his chin thoughtfully, legs crossed and a hand on his hip as if he was an art critic studying a specific, neo-surrealism piece. He met multi-coloured eyes, focusing on the wheat opposed to midday sky: gold against blue. The light of the sun met with sapphire, reminiscent of an eclipse.

Perhaps I could come with you to meet him--this Akavir lad. Would you be interested in that? Frederick's tone, almost nonchalant, though his eyes practically sparkled. This could be his chance to finally track down Adrian.

watching the great paws strop the ground suggested that lestan might let go of what had been plaguing him in self-deprecation — at least in part. and so he slowly built another pile of grass, though this time he let his paw drift over the green and held it there.
soft against his palm, this sensation soothed him somewhat. "i l-like frederick," lestan ventured, hoping he would not overmuch offend the other's overture of goodwill. yet he could not help the glissade of tension which rode his shoulders for a moment; was this some subtle disdain of the speech pattern he was unable to fight?
frederick's notion of akavir as a lad amused lestan, who chose not to correct the traveler's assumption. let him say such even to the mayfair cousin; it might be a great amusement to them all in the end. "c-come to the cr-creek. w-wait th-there with m-me. it sh-shouldn't be l-long before th-they're back. i c-could h-help you — in the m-meantime."
quite a lot to offer, and yet lestan had little else; any aspirations he'd had of being a conversationalist were long faded by the years of his tripwire tongue.
to his dismay, the patch of grass beneath his paws was quite bare now, and in consternation the mayfair ceased his idle destruction.

Frederick was happy to keep his first name in its full, smiling with a shrug when Lestan turned down the nickname. Frederick it is, then, he nodded--easy-going, laid-back. And Lestan didn't seem reluctant, either, for Frederick to come back to the creek with him. His offer to aid the man's search, though, was one that he'd likely turn down. I'll wait with you, but... the giant took a breath between his teeth, head tilting to the side for a moment as he thought. Could he trust Lestan? He saw no reason not to.

Fine. He'd relent, only revealing small amounts of information: ...I'm looking for my brother, he said, heaving a sigh as he looked back to the pack-wolf. Eyes meeting, and if one looked too deeply, they could see the grief that swirled behind an otherwise stoic gaze. Adrian. Tall, white with a grey face and paws. Remind you of anyone? Maybe this could help him find a lead, Frederick thought. Or maybe his brother would find out he was here and run again.

adrian. for a long moment the mayfair considered, paws still as mind sought attunement. "i'm a-afraid i h-haven't s-seen anyone b-by that f-face," he at last said, rather sadly as he had beheld that galaxy of emotion which swam through frederick's eyes.
"i d-do know wh-what it i-is to s-search f-for s-someone," lestan murmured next, raising in hopes that their gazes met. "endlessly, it f-feels. and th-the emptiness th-that c-comes with it." he let out his breath and pushed a small tower of grass over in gentle falling. "s-sometimes it f-feels as th-though l-life h-has stopped."
empathy rose on warm wings. lestan had never shied from helping another; he was most fulfilled when he sank his spirit into a quest of this sort.

Unfortunately, the news came as a small shock to Frederick. While he knew it'd be naive to assume that he'd run into Adrian so quickly, he also hoped that one day he could bring his brother home. It's alright, he nodded, sighing in a not-quite-defeat--although he clearly wasn't pleased. I'll find him eventually.

Lestan's empathy, though, resonated with Frederick. The emptiness, the pausing of life. He remembered the way the days stretched and waned as he searched for his littermate, without a single, small hint of where he could've gone. I just hope that one day he and I will be back home, the man hummed, almost thoughtfully. He remembered, though, that even with his brother back, it would never be quite the same. Or maybe he and I could remain here. I'm not sure, yet.

He wasn't one to plan too far ahead, not even sure yet whether the man he spoke of was even anywhere amongst these lands. Anyway, he shook his head: an attempt to change the course of the conversation. Swiftcurrent Creek. Tell me about it, will you? Considering that I might be staying there a little while--if that's alright with Akavir. What do you think?

he felt he had said all he could on the creek. "it's v-very l-lovely," lestan offered. "set j-just right, and c-controls water which fl-flows d-down from the m-mountains."
a moment of no words. "i s-searched f-for my d-daughter a l-long wh-while. i was s-sick th-the whole t-time with w-worry. i did f-find her, however."
hope; he offered it on proverbial outstretched palm, the honeyblue of his tired eyes glimmering for a moment with a boyish humour.
"m-maybe as we w-walk, you c-could ask qu-questions," the mayfair suggested, glancing once in the direction of the creek.

If Lestan had found his daughter, perhaps that was a sign that Frederick, too, could find who he was looking for. Sure. Frederick said, addressing the suggestion. He stood from where he sat, looking in the direction that Lestan had glanced off at. Lead the way, Lestan. He flicked his tail, waiting for the main to start their trek.

feel free to end here/with your next post!