Neverwinter Forest nobody learns no nothing from no history

er, warning for language. haha. unexpected for me but hey, whatevskies.

An ashen paw struck the spongy, dew-laden ground, which caved willingly to its weight. Mist and fog danced and hung seductively around all manner of trees while eyes of similar colorless hue surveyed the expanse, nose imperceptibly testing the windlessness that surrounded him. They were here. He knew it. He felt it in his bones, sure as he knew they were sinful. A true Feralheart did not shirk their duty, no matter how distasteful. A wry grin crossed his face for the merest of moments before melting back into the mists as he took another step into the woods.

He would find them. And he would drag them home. And he would enjoy extolling all the ways in which they had failed as children of the great Salene. And he would tell his dear sister, that pallid creature who received all of their mother's affection and trust purely for her possession of what he assumed was a sterling-grade cunt (regardless of the fact that she had never shown any real interest or aptitude for the task of leadership, this latest stunt the crowning proof of the fact) that it was her Feralheart duty to wed the man her mother had chosen for her. And he would do his utmost not to smile with pleasure when he said it.

He was here with purpose. On a mission. Were he not, he might have noticed the unsettling beauty of this place. Were he not a man of duty, dignity and destiny, he might have even considered staying and making this place his home. But Eirikr Aurelius was none of these things. And instead, he thought also, as he stalked, slinking silently between the trees, of his brother Antares. The fool who stole off into the night with their sister without a word of goodbye or any good reason for leaving. Silver eyes narrowed. He knew his brother's excuse without having to ask it. And it was as whiny and cumbersome as ever. Mommy doesn't love me. He scoffed. He'd heard it all before and wasn't interested.

The sun had not yet risen, and wouldn't for a few hours yet. The Feralheart continued his trek through the wilderness, knowing he was, at least, near his siblings, and already plotting his approach to dragging them home. But in the meantime, he found himself hungry, a devilish glint lighting in his usually deadened eyes, ivory teeth flashing in a terrible grin as he searched for prey. Of what sort, he had not yet decided.

Tonravik descended her mountain with the intent to get to know her surroundings. Or the territories surrounding the mountain she one day intended to lay her claim to. She was ambitious, are that Tartok would thrive here as well as it had elsewhere. Already two lingered at her side; she would strengthen them both so that they would become warriors. She fortunately had more patience than her mother; Toothless, the nameless green eyed enigma, would have been chased away.

But the woman saw use in the wolf. It's stealth would prove to be invaluable to the bear of a wolf who lumbered rather than slunk. Large paws pressed into the forest floor as her snout brushed against it. There was the scent of another nearby, and her head lifts and turns in the direction she smells the being.

A new scent rustled beneath his nose, and silver ears pricked and twirled to hone in on its origin. This was not his sister, but was a lady all the same. He was certain that his presence would not have been missed, but was curious as to the approach the woman would take, be it to avoid him, or seek him out. He would meet and cross her path one way or another, but gave her choice of the first move, skulking further into the shadows and purposely dodging her path for a few minutes, pale eyes watching, ears listening, waiting.

Just as a heads up: you two don't have to worry about me in the posting order. Iffin you want to spree or anything, go for it! I'll just throw up a post when I can. :)

Without thinking, Toothless followed the bearish she-wolf when eventually she left the mountains. It snaked down the sharp slopes in her wake and set foot on the flatlands below for the first time in months. It never caught up with her and never came within more than a few feet from her, yet it clung to her like a little raincloud. It did not wonder or care about its own reasons for doing this. Perhaps it sensed that she would protect it or perhaps Toothless was little more than an opportunistic leech. In any case, she didn't seem to mind it, though there was always the very real chance that she didn't really notice it either.

She led it away from the foothills and, while Toothless felt queerly exposed without the mountainous heights, it did not hesitate in its pursuit. It darted after her, moving swiftly if only to keep up with her ground-eating gait. It actually didn't have much chance to worry about its strange surroundings, as simply keeping up kept it busy. It did notice when she led it into a deep, dark wood, as it felt more at ease here in the cool shadows. Having previously moved with its belly slung low to the ground, it now walked a little more openly, though still half-crouched.

When its leader paused and sniffed the air, Toothless mindlessly mimicked her, testing the air for itself. It smelled a stranger. Heart beating fast, Toothless stepped a bit closer to the large she-wolf than ever before, its underside touching the ground again. It tipped its head back and gazed up at her with trepidation and, surprisingly, felt itself relax slightly. The sight of her face, of her brown eyes, seemed to make it feel a little safer, even here in these strange woods. It had left the safety of the mountains behind, but she was a mountain in her own right.

Tonravik had the time to discern whether or not she would continue on this path. But she had no reason not to continue onward. She was growing used to the presence of Nameless. Tonravik had made a name for it, but had yet to speak to him. Even now, there was no reason to. Her tail lifted authoritatively, as though to assure the other that it was fine. Ears pricked, and the poised Tartok woman struck forward, body searching but eyes still. In time she would come across the wolf unless he altered his own path. Her gait held ample confidence, and told of the strength she possessed.

But what was that? Another scent that wove and tangled with the first, this one masculine. A brow quirked, tail twitched. One of the scents was cool confidence, the other nervous. The self-assured scent, the woman, stepped forward, and not towards him. His face lit for a split moment before cascading back into tonelessness. Silently, he trotted forward, towards the source of the unnamed smells. He was under no impression that his approach would not be registered, or that he would take them by surprise, but all the same, he moved as quietly as he could manage, slowing back to his stalk as he came closer, eyes narrowing as he spied them. She was large and imposing. There was strength and confidence in her gait, juxtaposed sharply with the smallness and timidness of the one who walked next to her. He walked alongside them, separated by four or five stands of trees, daring her to speak.

Ah. Audits twitched and cupped, turning and behaving as radars. She sensed the nearness. That he moved in a parallel manner occurred to her only then, but she did not turn. She is not the one hiding, and thus her movements become all the more assured. Nostrils flared as she forges onward, her interest in the wolf that would not show itself waning. And yet she remains aware, unwilling to be unpleasantly surprised.

Latching onto its leader's confidence, Toothless straightened and walked upright, albeit with its head bent. It swallowed a few times, its chartreuse eyes darting back and forth between the trees like a pair of small birds, but primarily stayed focused on the large she-wolf. It did not really think in words, so to speak, yet its every bodily twitch spoke a language of its own, conveying the relationship: she was the leader and it was the follower.

The strange scent lingered nearby and Toothless's bat-like ears pricked in response to the sound of soft footfalls. It flicked behind Leader, peering dubiously around her thick legs, then glanced at her to see what she made of their unwelcome company. She did not seem in the least bothered, nor even interested. Following her lead, Toothless assumed a calm demeanor, though its eyeballs still bounced nervously around the trees.

She was determined not to make the first move. He knew she had registered his presence. He could tell by the heightened activity of her ears, and by her carriage that she was not a wolf to be taken unawares. She was playing coy. His eyes danced. He was a fan of coy. More perplexing, though, was the behavior of the male at her side, the why and the how of the attachment. How such a rackety creature had earned the protection of one so collected was an interesting question to answer. But still, he moved in silence, taking pride in each turn of gaze the skittish one made in his direction.

She noted the subtle change in Hunter; how he fed off of her, in a way, and did not behave so anxiously. Tonravik saw herself asserting her own typical behavior. No-nonsense. She did not have the time to humor a wolf who clung to the shadows and would not come out. Even the wolf beside her, anxious though he was, had sense enough to face her. Ah, but she had not summoned the other! She has no desire to, either. Sisamat is not amused. She peers to her companion, before her eyes move slowly toward the direction she fathomed the other to be in. She knew the terrain well enough at this point to be able to do such a thing without worry. She could see the vague outline of wolf, and she is more alert for it; shaking her ruff, she slows, giving the beast the opportunity to present itself, bored with its game, an offense she liked to think was punishable by death.

There was an air of irritation about her. He smiled and as she slowed, he turned away, walking the other direction, testing, trying the limits of this monolithic woman and her jumpy consort. Ultimately, he cared little whether or not their paths formally crossed, but he found himself in a mischievous mood, and if indeed their paths were to cross, he preferred she be good and cross.

The shadow faded. Tonravik lifted her head, feeling triumphant. She believed the glare he could not even see was somehow felt. The world worked in mysterious ways. Licking her jowls, she picks up the pace again, continuing on their initial trail; there was no need to change directions now, and she was near-certain that the other wolf would not turn around to find her again. She did not know the wolf, but perhaps it truly had been so oblivious as to not even know she was there; she threw each and every conclusion out of her head. It did not matter. There was no crossing. It was not pride that kept her away, but the mere thought that perhaps he was harmless and just wandering the mountain; it was not claimed (yet), and so she could not rebuke him for doing as he desired.

haha. I kind of like that their paths haven't (yet) crossed. :D another time. Near-misses should happen more often. ;) RUV YOU.

Her pace quickened away from him. Something in her already confident scent strengthened. His tail flicked behind him. So they were not yet to meet this day. But there were always others. Be she scared or be she proud, idle curiosity lingered in him as he walked, at a steady, dignified, pace in the direction he had set. The sun was just beginning to crest over horizon, the mist dispelling in its wake, and Eirikr resumed his search for his siblings, or whoever would actually next cross his path. Whichever came first.

*ties it up with a pretty bow*

The tension built, causing Toothless to press closer behind the large she-wolf as it nervously awaited a confrontation. However, none ever came. The footfalls faded away into the forest. Toothless's quivering nose quested after the scent, but it receded. Slowly, it calmed. Its tail twitched as it turned back toward its new leader, question marks in its bright eyes, only to see that she had already begun to lope away.

Its little paws made a series of comically frantic thumps as it galloped after her, looking over its shoulder once, twice and three times. Its legs began to tangle on that third turn, so it finally faced forward for good, though its bat-like ears twisted backward, listening all the same, for sounds of approach from the rear. They never came; the mismatched pair was left in peace.