Golden Glade A Reminder

She had discovered The Wolf's battered body not long after Taggarik, and had heard the Ridge's alpha male call a sorrowful note into the air. Her time with them had been fleeting, but full of promise, and Tuwawi had found herself hopeful once more. Nature was cruel, however, and things had fallen apart quickly after her arrival. The red stain upon The Wolf's tawny agouti pelt was a violent reminder of how the world worked, and the red matron found herself thrust her back into the life of a lone wolf. She ran from the Ridge into the arms of the warmer Southern lands, thinking of better times (as she usually did) on Windrunner plains. Wishing for a lush Spring and another family were all but pipe dreams as more dire needs arose soon after. The locusts came and consumed everything, the likes of which Tuwawi had never seen. Prey became scarce soon after — just as frantic and needful as their predatory counterparts. 

After a morning of failed hunting, Tuwawi rested beneath a naked tree in what should have been a dense forest. She contemplated... what now?

i hope you don't mind me! :0

 

Arturo had been shown a slight mercy, or perhaps had a stroke of good luck for the scrawny squirrel he'd scented scavenging through the loose bracken of the unknown glade that he'd traversed to from King Elk Forest had ended up falling prey to his jaws. It had not been a terribly long trek, but he'd had to be careful he did not traipse too close to the borders of the pack that inhabited the territory to the west of the King Elf Forest, sticking to the Basin instead. It had been there he'd rested the night previous, holding out onto the hope that a herd or a few stragglers might make their way to the watering hole but the Fearghal had been left woefully disappointed and continued northbound. What he intended to find, he didn't know. His plans had been placed studiously on hold as the need to survive took precedent.

The scrawny thing hung limp betwixt his jaws as he lugged it around, looking for a secluded shelter to enjoy it. He wasn't sure how far desperation would drive the wolves of these Wilds for a scrap of food, but regardless he didn't have the patience to deal with thieves. In fact, he never had patience for those that intended to steal from him but his lack of tolerance only strengthened as his hunger remained a constant gnawing in his stomach.

He paused, setting his kill down to give his jaws a break for a moment, salmon pink tongue drawing across his chops to collect the errant droplets of blood and saliva that had dribbled out of the corners of his mouth before his head lowered to pick it back up. That was when he noticed her — a flame against the skeletal remains of these Wilds. Fiery orange-red gaze studied her for a moment, deliberating. Perhaps she had noticed him, perhaps she had not, and even if she had there was nothing that said he had to acknowledge her presence; but her ember appearance caught his (always wandering) eye and Arturo was nothing if not a gentleman. It was one of his few redeeming qualities, he liked to believe.

He let out a soft chuff to cordially announce his presence. “Are you hungry?” He called out to her, peeking down at his scrappy meal. It wasn't much — nowhere near enough to sustain one wolf left alone two ...but if she was hungry and if she wanted half of it, he was feeling generous enough to share.

<3 <3 <3

In the absence of food, Tuwawi allowed herself to be taken by sleep for a minute or two. Despite her hunger, the peaceful wood offered some slight reprieve from her troubles. The cool spring air, paired by the quiet hum of the forest, make it easy to slip away. Her features relax, and she finds peace for a moment or two. However, it doesn't last for long. The footfalls of an approaching vagrant stir the cardinal-colored wolf, and she spots a crepescular figure looming in the daylight not too far off. Her ruddy ears orbit forward to better hear him and her posture, though reclined, stiffens cautiously. The ridge was a feral place, and she finds the stranger's use of words suddenly unsettling. 

The scent of blood spilled into her attentionand she notices the small kill the man has made. Are you hungry? He asks with an amicable tone. Yet, Tuwawi can't help but be skeptical of his seemingly good intentions. One ear turns to the side to display her uncertainty as she watches with a silver gaze. "Trying times aren't known for charity," she comments... but the tautness if her gut demand she watches the dead animal carfully. She could not deny her hunger.

The bithiúnach could understand her uncertainty and suspicion well enough; her words spoke of a very true point. The swarm, as Arturo assumed to be the culprit of the skeletal wasteland that was the Teekon Wilds, had left nothing in their wake but naked trees and barren ground. The small prey that the wolves it housed were able to scrounge up were likely in a very similar position as them but he had no regard for lesser creatures aside from their usefulness to him: food. Sharing of food in these harsh and unforgiving times was probably unheard of, and Arturo knew himself too well to know that if circumstances were different he probably wouldn't have given her a second thought. Or perhaps, he might have, even if she would not have caught his eye so. The Family was always his priority but he found himself lacking one, currently, and the gang mentality was too far ingrained in his mental wiring to change it now.

Arturo could be ruthless, but he could also be the epitome of a gentleman. Part angel and part devil, his mother used to romanticize his behaviors as they had taken form during his childhood. “I believe there is always time for charity,” The debonair coywolf spoke softly, canting his head ever so slightly to the side. “and trying times are when charity is at it's most needed.” He murmured candidly, accented with an errant shrug of his shoulders. “It's not much, but you may help yourself.” Arturo encouraged, giving the limp rabbit stiffened in it's postmortem state a gentle nudge in her direction with his nose, taking a step back to settle upon his haunches in the hopes of communicating to her that it was no trick.

Tuwawi's eyes narrowed as she ruminated on the offer, looking at the vacant expression of his kill. There was always a catch. Sharing a meal -- the proverbial breaking of bread -- between two wolves often alluded to some sort of indebtedness and she wondered if this vagabond would call upon a favor in the future. Was it such a bad thing, though? To form these bonds? Tuwawi shifted and rose to her feet (albeit a bit slowly --  she wasn't as spry as she used to be). "Alright," she concluded, putting a paw upon the dead beast before tearing a large chunk from its haunch, though her eyes watched his chocolate paws for any sign of sudden movement.

Arturo watched as the ember colored woman rose and approached where he'd left the kill between them, fiery orange-red eyes watched her as she placed her paw upon it and tore a chunk from it. It was almost like taking care of his Family — something that he realized quite suddenly and overwhelmingly that he missed. The “gang” mentality allowed the Fearghal monarch to protect, take care of, and provide for the wolves that had followed him but he'd left the wolves of Quicksilver Hollow in his mother's care. Quicksilver Hollow was her legacy, anyway, not his own. He took a moment to assess her scent, closer to him now than she'd been previous. He thought he scented other wolves upon her but it was faint — either she traveled and spent much time away from her borders or she was alone as he was. Admittedly, the Ceannasach was left feeling lost without a Family. A wanderer without any sort of purpose beyond his own survival. Easy, but hardly enough for Arturo.

He permitted her his silence as she ate, his gaze, steady upon her contemplative. “I am Arturo; Arturo Fearghal,” He introduced himself, breaking his own silence, erring to his gentlemanly side. Arturo's reputation did not proceed him in these Wilds, and thus would probably not mean much of anything to her. More than likely it would be another name to another face; but Arturo was not a man who was content with a simple life and he would not sit idle. “If you are alone, and interested, I would not mind some companionship,” Two wolves working together through this pestilence stricken land might not be a bad thing, Arturo reasoned to himself as he glimpsed around them in soft dismay. “I can't imagine how two wolves pooling resources would not increase chances of survival.” Right now, that was the most important thing: that he survived.

Everything else would come, in time. Legacies and kingdoms were not built in a day, after all, and Arturo was a patient man. “I understand if you decline, but the option is open.” Everything had to start somewhere, even if he failed the first time. He did not see much difference between two strangers agreeing to make a pact and a pack accepting a stranger into their fold. It was the same concept, the same risk, in his mind.

But for whatever reason their conversation did not extend beyond his inquiries and Arturo watched her leave idly wondering if the odds would remain mercifully in his favor for him to scrounge up a meager meal for himself in turn as the two strangers parted ways.

Edited a little conclusion on this. c: