Sunset Valley you don't make a deal to become immortal with angels

With Wildfire gone still, Thuringwethil doesn’t spend much time away from the dragon. Most time she’s on their western border, scouting out for grotto wolves that might become a threat. Since the incident with Gavriel and Toxochelys, there’s been no sight nor smell of them anywhere near and she’s just about to consider it bad luck on the wolf’s part for getting into trouble. Instead of keeping to the borders this day, Thuringwethil veers off down the northwestern face and ends up at the edge of Sunset Valley.

If she continues around the glacier, she’ll find the grotto, but she doesn’t care attempt to get close. The openness and her dark far aren’t blending in well together and so keeping from view and her own trouble becomes priority.

The young leader sniffs a few times, wrinkles her nose, and turns to catch the sight of a two deer—one young, one parent, and no buck in sight—that distracts her from her concern with Larksong. It is a long shot by herself but after the famine she is hesitant to give it up and glances around for any of her own that might have followed but finds herself empty handed. Instead, Thuringwethil slinks back toward the wall of the hollows and watches the deer quietly graze from afar.

With miles behind her and a region she barely knew even further back, Mojave hadn't planned on figuring out where she was going. Wanderlust had gripped her once again and for the weeks that spread out afterward, she had bade her farewells to the river and its pack. She was directionless at best, wavering between pushing a continual pace southward and at times, tempted to go back the way she had come. When mountains had cropped up she had worked her way over them and following their swift decent, emerged into the valleys of the wilderness below.

At least here, the summer heat was not as overbearing as she would have thought. The air was decidedly humid though and surprisingly this far into what she could have guessed was an insular tundra—of course, she had no way of knowing such exact terms, or whether they were right—it was still barren. Growth had blossomed and springy grass kept the shuffle of her feet near silent as she travelled. For countless miles she wandered on her own and for once, was not entirely perturbed with the lack of company. There was simply too much to see; her eyes scanned the horizon beneath a rise for anything that stood out over it. Landmarks, something, anything that would give her a mock destination for now.

It wasn't until she crested that rise did she see the glacier and its proud peak stand out ahead of her—she totally missed the deer that grazed below.

The thought of going after the deer seemed like a good one, if only she could avoid injury. Taking one down alone isn’t… an impossible feat but they look healthy, despite the recent famine but the foliage is enough to start bringing them back into the world. They had been getting by on small game for the most part, with an occasional snag of something larger if it were to come by. The benefits of one portion of her claim covered in salt, at least.

Thuringwethil moves back out into the open when her chance has become slim, one of them notices the inky blotch against the background and waste no more time before they turn and run the opposite direction. Out of reflex, the young leader bounds forward after them but her chase eases off when they get farther away from her than she can catch.

The view was picturesque at best, a spectacular beacon against an otherwise typical scenic backdrop.  She had never seen such a wonder in her life, though truth be told Mojave had spent a fair part of her life shuffled away in the heavily wooded north.  For a moment, she couldn't help but think that she understood the pull of why she was so bound to wander... but rushing movement tore her attention away.

For a split-second, her face scrunched up into confusion—where had those come from?  She knew them to be deer, but they seemed different, somehow.  Thinner, maybe, but not so thin as to suggest they were entirely sickly and full of disease.  Still, the necessity to give them chase gripped her and she sprang off from her grassy perch.  Though she was hungry, she knew herself well.  She was no master hunter, so catching the deer alone was not going to be a task she was ready to handle.  At best, she figured she could run them towards the glacier and kill two birds with one stone.

The deer, of course, did not appreciate another wolf coming from nowhere to chase after them.

Thuringwethil watch the deer run from her but her gaze never leaves them and when they screech to a halt some distance away and pivot to turn back ground, she’s loathe to lose her gaze again. However, something caused them to turn around and run back another direction to avoid something when they were already running from here. Her eyes widen and she takes a moment, a fleeting glance, to look behind and see another wolf in the background.

The deer run, the younger falling behind and the mother hesitant to both leave it or turn back to keep it with her. It is then her chance to move again, legs kicking into gear to make up the distance between her and the other running, now, away from both of them. With an extra hands, perhaps they could reach it in time to take down, and so Thuringwethil hits the ground with thundering steps that launch her closer and closer to the fleeing prey.

Somewhere in her pursuit she realizes she isn't alone. Narrow trees gave way to the inky blur of another wolf in her peripheral, though Mojave is reluctant to turn her gaze for a better view. To do so now could easily cost her, whether the deer turned sharply away from her or some misplaced brush in her path decided to pay her a visit. She kept on them, aware of the closing distance between herself and the younger ungulate.

She figures she doesn't have a hope and a pray to saddle up and bring it down on her own, which was where she hoped her fellow canine would come into play. It was easy to forget that she was well outside of the bounds of the Wildwoods now, easy to forget that perhaps her surprise hunting partner may have not had intentions to help, or even share.

*drops tiny awkward post*

It isn’t long before the two wolves come close enough together and she remains in long strides. The mother forfeits her offspring and takes long last dash forward, the distance between she and the other growing. There’s a wail to the child, shrill, and surges Thuringwethil forward a few extra leaps and bounds. She pays little attention to the others, for now, as she closes in and snags her jaws around the back leg of the youngster. The animal falters and her legs lock up, slowing the exhausted creature down. With her lock on the back leg, the front end still flails and screams and tries to get away but she’s careful not to let up yet in hopes the straggler of a wolf has a similar idea and stop the flailing from the other side.

As the scene unfolds, there is not a passing thought to how tragic it may have been for the escaping mother deer.  Instead there is the urgency built in necessity to follow through with the kill, and that is surely what Mojave intended to do.  When the dark-haired she-wolf seized the fawn and slowed it, Mojave swept in to stagger it further.  It had been a long while since she had the opportunity to hunt with another, let alone without the advice dropped by a willing instructor; her actions were slow and at times uncoordinated, but the fawn came down easily between them.

It is only when the animal gives one last ounce of fight, and fall, that she’s able to looking around her and find the tawny looking canine that helped bring it down. She doesn’t know if she’d been waiting on the other side for the right opportunity like she had but regardless, they’d gotten a successful kill out of it. A small fawn, enough for the both of them, and Thuringwethil is willing to share. She pants a few times around the leg before she huffs and drops it but her position remains protectively over it if only out of instinct.

She drops her head and nudges at the carcass a few times, indicating her intention to share, before she breaks open the belly for the tender organ meat waiting there.

phone post whee

With a bloodied muzzle and a successful kill under her belt, Mojave deferred to the other when they stepped over the prey. She had no desire to squabble over it; there was far too much for just one of them to eat. Her turn would come, she decided, watching lazily with feign disinterest as the darker female dug in.

This was a brief disinterest on her part though, as the other made way for her. Sharing. Mojave hesitated for a few seconds, trying to ascertain if there was more to the offer. But the hunger gnawed at her and ultimately won; she darted in to almost greedily pull out a length of intestine for herself. Waste not, want not, right?

It’s barely a few minutes by the time Thuringwethil has eaten until her stomach tells her to stop. She picks her head up, licks her lips, and gives the other her space to finish eating. A tickle on her muzzle causes her leg to lift and paw at is, a string of meat hooking from out of her teeth. She smacks her chops a few times and finishes grooming the blood away.

“Good work,” she tells the stranger as she gets her fill of the prey. Her eyes rove over the remains and wondering what she might be able to take back with her. Now that they were close enough together and the blood subsided, she's thankful not to recognize the woman's scent. It doesn't remind her of the grotto so she feels in the clear for the time being.

Silence fell between them as they ate, which was just fine for Mojave. It was a nice change of pace from the small game she had trailed after. It was just nice to be able to admit to herself that she had finally got a decent meal out of things. After so long on the road, she wasn't about to be picky and ponder what her meal had tasted like, let alone if it had been chewy. It was a wonder she didn't inhale it all.

The compliment that came as they were finishing up caught her off guard, however. Halfway set to auto-pilot, she started speaking before she knew what to say. "Oh, thanks for the uh, the compliment," and behind it, a smile. "And, uh, thanks for the help too." May as well make it seem like she had been chasing them too, as though that would lend her some believable story as to what she was doing wandering around... not that it was a crime.

It takes a moment before the other finishes but there’s a satisfied look on her face that she’d been briefly familiar with before settling in Sleeping Dragon. Her time as a loner had been short lived and the future doesn’t hold that for it, as long as she’s alive. If something were to happen here, she’d simply return to the lands she’d came from for something familiar for her to get her paws on. However, content on the mountain, the thought is pushed away and she focuses on her newest companion.

“I’m Heda Thuringwethil, commander of Sleeping Dragon,” she says and turns her nose where her mountain peeks out from behind the glacier. Most of the icy structure blocks the view but there’s no denying the volcano in the background.

There was a particular emphasis on heda that gave Mojave pause. It meant something, though needless to say by the expression that came across her face she didn't quite understand. Of course, she wasn't sure whether that was a name, or the second name was a name, or... well, whatever. She'd avoid naming names for a smidge just to make sense of it all. The rest was a bit more straightforward in her eyes. She could wager that commander meant a leader of some sort and the other must have been a fancy name for this she-wolf's home. In reality, she wasn't quite as dense as word choice made her out to be.

"Nice to meet you," she replied conversationally, not tripping up on words for a change. "I'm Mojave," and she faltered for something else to add. Nothing from nowhere came to mind, but it almost seemed insulting to a creature that seemingly wore a constant state of stoicism all over their face. She opted to leave it at that, instead letting her gaze wander to where Thuringwethil had gestured.

"So you live kinda sorta on the icy part there? Or no?" She didn't really think the dark-haired wolf meant the weird little mountain, but couldn't avoid the clarification. Then again, she didn't know a glacier from a volcano to save her life. It had always been plains, weirdly jagged mountains, and thick forests that had hemmed her in.

Her companion, Mojave, doesn't add any affiliation to her name and she's concluded she doesn't belong to the few pack she's aware. It likely gives her some added benefit when tensions are high between Drageda and a good portion of her neighbors. It left her to wonder, though, about a straggler in these parts. Often they come in waves, for a reason she's unable to explain, but curious all the same.

Thuringwethil shakes her head to the question and then looks across the valley for a better view, but the glacier and hollows are in the way. If things were timed perfectly, a plume of smoke might arise to help give direction but the sky remains clear above.

"On the other side. Kinda... around that way," she tells her with a directional point of her snout. It would do little without further instruction but without intent, she isn't keen on leading a stranger back. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh," she said, finally realizing where exactly Thuringwethil meant. There may have been a note of disappointment in her tone, but it was more out of inherent remnants of the confusion she had up until then. It seemed so obvious now where the other meant, at least as best as she could guess. The squat little mountain volcano thing, maybe. The thing that looked like it wasn't exactly on the glacier, but past it. It made more sense that she would be there, versus on the ice.

She didn't spend too much time thinking about it anyway, since distraction came in the form of a question that she instantly caught the intent of. "Oh, well, nowhere in particular. I like to wander," she said with a roll of her shoulders. It was her wandering that was bound to get her into trouble eventually, but at least she was being forward about what she was up to. "Guess it's just something I do, anyway," she added on uselessly.

The answer doesn't surprise her and gives her another boost to find out more. She falls silent for a few seconds and then moved back to the carcass and what remains. It won't be difficult to take back by herself but the help might be beneficial. Thuringwethil lifts her head and looks across the way before she directs her attention back on Mojave once she's squared her shoulders back a little.

"I have room for another, if you're interested," she says, ears cupping forward in attention. She has already contributed to the pack, regardless of her acceptance, and seeing her in action does more for her willingness to bring her back than had she shown up on her doorstep. "Our ways aren't much different than most wolves but there are things that are easy to learn once you've acclimated."

Yep, this was going the way she thought it would. There was a certain apprehension that crept up in her then, an uncertainty whether or not she wanted to commit to somewhere once again. What it really boiled down to what whether or not she could persist with the life she had been living, and if the loneliness therein was worth it. It had been so far, yet there were times when she wished she had another to share her findings with.

Her ears had splayed themselves momentarily in consideration; they were piqued by the talk of different ways. "Wait, what do you mean different than the others?" To her, packs had always been the same in and out. They were uniformly put together. How could it be any different? Her head canted to the side, as though it would urge Thuringwethil to tell her more.

vague post is vague. haven't yet figured out how to easily
explain it yet lmfao

Thuringwethil tenses at the suddenness of the question. Wanting to know the idea doesn't scare her away but there seems to be more surprise than she expected. The majority of wolves in this area live their lives as they always have but she'd come from a different place. Wolves had a different set of rules they follow and they all differed from one another. The Vikings had there way and the band of Tartok wolves on their mountain region has another and Seageda's reach had been far and continues to be now they've relocated here. The other two cultures seem to make their reach as well, having housed Sangilak and her companion for a time.

"We are dedicated to each other, and loyal to heda for a peaceful life after this, and to the next wolf the spirit chooses upon my death, and you are ranked based on your main contribution. We have a few rituals, too, and there are two other clans farther north that are followers of heda but their distance hinders their usefulness to us here," she explains, licking her lips again and tasting a little blood left over. Explaining their way has never been simple for it simply is but most knew their way already and drawing in a stranger and shoving them into the unknown. She's reminded of Lagertha and her disloyalty to Sleeping Dragon despite the day she joined but filtering out those that see not faithful will only strengthen their bond.

There must not have been a simple explanation, for the one that she received was not clear. At least to Mojave, who still tripped over the concept of how things worked. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about rituals; what were those, anyway? Most questions came than answers and she found herself debating momentarily if it was worth asking them all. Maybe her poking and prodding wouldn't do her any good. Of course, the other option in figuring out those answers was to simply live the experience... maybe. She had her reasons for holding out.

"That sounds interesting," she said suddenly, feeling as though she had been quiet for too long. "Sorry, I was thinking about what you were saying. But I'm not sure of what use I'd be, I mean, I'm not particularly talented in any one thing," and once again, her shoulders rolled into a shrug. "So I don't know what my uh, main contribution would be." Last thing she wanted to do was start running with some folks and have them turn around and dropkick her out when they found she was less tactful than they were.

Thuringwethil watches Mojave once things fall silent and she tries to understand what might be going through her head. Their ways just are and explaining never really gets them far. Most of her wolves now in Drageda have accepted their way, depending on their level. But it is when she speaks that she realizes there’s internal doubt than accepting a new way.

“You have already begun contributing,” she says with a swing of her nose toward the corpse at their feet.

Finally, the cogs seemed to catch instead of grinding along; her lips turned briefly into an "oh" as Thuringwethil gestured over the carcass. So she had contributed, well, all right then.

"Well, I guess I could give it a shot," Mojave found herself saying, not seeing the point in turning down the offer. She hadn't turned down the offer that Maksim and Kisla had given her, though the times had been different. "I mean, if you really want me around and all." What harm could it do? If nothing else it would end up another story for her to tell somewhere else down the line.

She takes a long breath as the other mulls it over a little and ultimately takes the offer (albeit not too convincingly) and she can’t help a flash of worry cross her mind. She’s lost a few over the months but the lot she has now has stuck by them and adopted their ways. Given the appropriate chance, Mojave could fit in just fine, and so Thuringwethil nods her head and comes upon the corpse once more. “Help me carry this home?”

With a nod of her head that she'll help, Mojave moved back in close to the deer and grasped for it. Her teeth sunk in to the still tender flesh, pulling the body along once she had been joined by her darker-haired counterpart. Or really, as she should have thought of her now, leader. This thought did not entirely cross her mind just yet but it would, no doubt the nearer they would draw to the claim that the wolf held.