The Heartwood There is no end, only a new beginning.

Einn stumbles through the ghost of heartwood, wandering aimlessly. He'd been constantly travelling for days, living off of small game to keep himself somewhat full. But mice and rabbits could only take the vagabond so far.

The dark wolf collapsed on to the forest floor, the moss cushioning his otherwise harsh landing. He needed food, real food, but he was far too weak to fetch it himself, especially in this state. Einn was starting to miss the leeching days when he would snag his share of the pack's fresh kill and scurry off to his cave to continue his spiritual practices.

As he lays there, he stares off with a sense of longing. He wishes could've spent his time more wisely, perhaps he should've listened to his mother when she said he was a useless pig leech. Dying alone certainly didn't feel good, knowing that Einn never amounted to anything in his years of living. But he would have to reap what he sowed, no matter how bitter it was. It was the ironic beauty of life.

and it is through the heartwood that the lorekeeper wanders, searching for a meal and perhaps for a gift that he may bring back to his betrothed, @Iruna. it was dark paws that carried him, but his nose that guided him ; for there was an unknown scent within these woods, and with two weddings around the corner, the guardian could not accept any risk.

a man, scruffy, thin, is sprawled out amongst the forest floor. a low chuff leaves his lips ; an announcement of his presence, though he doubts that this stranger would do much, should he be snuck up on. hello, comes his voice, deep within his chest, rumbling like a slumbering, snoring beast. are you alright? nordic tones laced his tongue. an accent thick and telling of where he had grown, where he had once been. a home, now lost.

he drew himself closer. can i help you?

Einn briefly looks up at the large wolf before sighing and closing his eye, having ultimately given up.Mm, I wouldn't attempt to. He responds, his voice husky and quiet. I serve no purpose, so reserve the energy for something smarter.

The dark wolf flops onto the other side of his body, his back now facing the stranger. Now, I will be taking my final nap here. So you can go. Shoo, shoo. He gestures to the other wolf with a dismissive lift of his paw and a flick of his tail. Take my coat if you must, just leave me to face my bitter end, entirely curated by yours truly.

everything living serves a purpose, he said after a pause, scarlet eyes gazing upon the back of the stranger, eyes shifting towards the visible parts of his face. he lowered his head, now, pushing his forehead against the back of the stranger, nudging him. up, now, for if you do not have your own purpose, one will be bestowed upon you.

moonguardian turned away, taking a few steps towards forneskja before he'd halt, hanging his head over his shoulder as to check if the man would follow along or not. what is your name? came his question, flicking his tail with a detached curiosity.

The dark wolf pondered the response, tail softly sweeping behind him. Every living thing serves a purpose? He felt half dead for most of his life, would he still count? Would only a half purpose be bestowed onto him? The nudge on his back gave him the little push to find out for himself.

So, Einn got back up on his paws, head hanging low and legs slightly wobbly from being so weak.
My name is Einn... He replies, taking small steps towards Rokkur. He looked onwards to where the large wolf was looking and spotting the dense forest ahead.

... and yours?

einn, he said. no sirename was given, though the lorekeeper would state his name in full: i am rökkur mánison, came his rumble. sögumaðr, storyteller, lorekeeper, moontalker of forneskja, soon to be wedded, soon to pass his name of 'moon son' on to the læknir, woundmender, herbgatherer, ritualwoman, and to the children that they would soon rear, come spring. curious, then, he said: do you have any family, einn?

while he awaited an answer, he would begin moving again, leading him towards the forest in which forneskja made their home. though rökkur had yet to ask einn of his availability of joining a pack ; but he seemed hungry, scrawny, thin and willing to follow, and so he doubted that the opportunity of comfort, safety and community was one that would be declined. he had set his mind set, already, on the joining of this man.

Oh no no no, I have no family. Einn answered as he trailed behind Rokkur Mánison of Forneskja. I am an exile, you see. My family does not accept me as family, so I do not accept them as family.
He then tilts his head slightly as he remembers one family member. His sibling. Except for my dear sister Eir. She was always the sweetest.

As the dark wolf followed, he noticed Rokkur was heading towards the forest ahead. So we are going there. What's in there anyway? A dusky place like that is a prime spot for spirits, I'd imagine. He licks his lips as another thought crosses his mind. Hopefully there are just as much prey. I haven't eaten a real mean in a year or so. As... Pitiful as that sounds.

shadow-cloaked mountain listened in silence as broad shoulders carried him ; each step a rippling wave of pure muscle, refined, slimness a telltale sign of both wintertime, and a man that had not quite left the rigidness of his past ; a man who worked, now, to keep himself in what was once his peak condition, a former glory that was stained in scarlet.

now, he kept himself strengthened so that he may protect his future spawn.

you are untethered to your past, came a gruff tone, his words not quite jagged, though certainly not melodic by any means. they were rough, though they held a sort of distant envy, a wish that he, too, could be unbound from such whispers of a time long ago. this is good. it means that you may build yourself anew - someone that you were not, someone that you may become. someone, something, that may be cherished, rather than . . . exiled. he gave a brief flick of his tail ; a faint hum, too.

it was a hearty, disbelieving laugh that spilt from his dark, greying maw, then. a year, he looked back at the scrawny man, then, tilting his head as if a wave of realisation had washed over him. i see, he turned his head away, now, gaze of rubies focusing on the woods up ahead. there are many spirits roaming the neverwinter, although most only come in the breeze that shifts through the forest, the falling of the leaves, the ripples of the pools. their whispers are faint amongst the wind, for it is the lady of the moon that i am attune with, gospel left his lips like music. a passionate belief.

we will get you something to eat. i believe the hárkonungr, @Solharr, will see the same potential within you that i do ; you must merely express to him your beliefs, and he will surely take you in - akin to my own joining, moons ago now.

he fell into silence, then, leading the pair towards the neverwinter.

feel free to end with your next post, or you can have einn ask anymore questions or anything !! ;D

solharr tag for ref !!! im dragging my irl to forneskja

The dark wolf listened to Rokkur, gaze flickering to the mossy floor. Someone to be cherished? He'd never pictured himself to be cherished, never knew what it was like. It was his own fault, really; he didn't strive to be someone people would love or miss.

Love. What an icky feeling. He couldn't imagine loving someone or being loved. He'd always thought love was like an overripe fruit; it made you sick from how disgustingly sweet it was.

Einn stopped in his tracks as Rokkur mentioned the 'hárkonungr'. Joining? You're bringing me into a pack? He looks bewildered, as one should after Einn's pathetic display not even 10 minutes before. Well– I'm flattered, but I see no reason for such. You barely know me, after all.

yes, came a curt reply. an ear flicked as the silence of einn's paws indicated is abrupt halt, and so the shadow of a man turned, large, bulky, as his scarlet gaze met einn's own ; a bright teal, reminiscent of a summers ocean. his tail flicked, then, towards the purpling sky overhead. i do not know you, but she does, and it was to the moon, the máni that he gestured to. moonlady, máni, she knows all things, including you, einn.

and again, he would turn away, though this time without silence: she sees all things ; she watches at this very moment, tail swayed as he spoke. it is something to be comforted by, rather than afraid of, for her assurance is a powerful tool. to know she is there, listening to your cries and hearing your prayers ... well, for me, it is a tether that i am grateful for. to be her listener, her speaker ... it is no easy task.

then, looking over his shoulder, he said: do you hear her, as well?

Máni? Einn had heard of her, she is the silver celestial in the sky.
You know, The dark wolf begins, looking up as the moon begins to rise to the east. While my studies lie within the lost spirits, I've heard a story regarding the moonlady. It's long, but to put it simply:

Máni fell in love with Hel, goddess of the dead. But Hel's umbral darkness did not belong with Máni's silver glow, so Hel laid herself within the cold grave of her realm. Heartbroken, Máni would cry for many, many years, her tears becoming the stars in the skies. The moonlady would go on to let her glow lead all the lost souls to their final place of resting, a guide for the dead. Einn's tail swept behind him as he told the story, his gaze fixated on the moon.

Einn closed his eyes, ears perked up as he tries to focus his hearing. He catches sounds of the rustling of grass, leaves, and bushes, along with the howl of the wind that arrives as the sun sets. He shivers and opens his eye again. It's not clear to me, but I hear her in a feeling rather than words, as if beckoning me to that forest. He picks up his paws again, slowly catching up to Rokkur.

If it is truly the silver maiden's or fate's favour, then it is best I do not deny either of them.