Firefly Glen cosmic love

That evening, the young female ventured out past Neverwinter’s borders and into unfamiliar lands. She hadn’t taken the opportunity to explore much since she’d joined the pack, but as the day shifted to night October felt a sense of restlessness settle within her chest.
 
It wasn’t until she came across a swampy, starlit glen that she felt her anxiousness meld into curiosity. She picked her way through the darkened vale, eyeing the fireflies that illuminated the shadows with mysterious delight. Her pale features were aglow with excitement as she nipped at one of the nocturnal insects that bobbed lazily past her head, marveling at its light as it dipped just out of her reach.

He did not want to wander far from @Alastor and @Vixen, and by extension the mountain, but the open land of the valley called to him. It sang of home and comfort as well as sorrow, but Zoratto accepted the call nonetheless. He told them he was departing and would return as soon as he could, and headed off for the Hoshor Plains where this all started.

He had mistimed his departure, finding himself in the darkness surrounded by unfamiliar trees —he did not remember this from his Hoshor days— and decided to hunker down and wait for morning. If he could, he would head towards the Plains once more before returning to Vixen and Alastor.

He wandered in search of a good place to sleep, stopping as a pale figure moved out of the corner of his eye. Zoratto turned to it, pale eyes narrowed at the woman's features. She chased a firefly like a child; he huffed at her childishness.

She smelled and heard the strange wolf before he came into sight. His presence put her slightly on edge; she bristled and tensed somewhat, shuffling her paws so that she could face him forward. Still, the female offered him a soft smile before her gaze roved to follow the fireflies that blinked in their vicinity. “Have you ever seen anything like it before?” October queried, marveling at the insects as they bobbed about.

Women, he found, were either of two things: too spiritual, with their heads in the clouds, or too sultry, their hips constantly swaying, even in old age. This woman seemed to be of the spiritual side, if her gaze was anything to go by. 

Zoratto had seen fireflies before, but never in such volume, and never in such lighting. He couldn't deny there was some beauty in it. Vo - no.

He didn’t seem to be the talkative type, and she couldn’t gauge much from his expression nor his demeanor. She kept a safe distance from the stranger but maintained a neutral stance. She was no threat to him; hopefully he would prove to be the same to her.
 
“I’m October,” she offered after a beat of somewhat awkward silence. “I live in Neverwinter Forest but I wanted to explore out here a bit.” She didn’t have much of a reason for sharing that with the roguish male, but perhaps it would alleviate some of the uncomfortable tension she felt.

She gave her name, and where she lived. The former raider snorted. A foolish mistake. Had he travelled with a khalas, they could have easily tracked down this Neverwinter Forest and attacked, swift and merciless. But he was no longer a raider. He was living the peaceful life now. How boring. Zoratto, He gave his name briefly and sharply. I wander, He had no home as of yet, and however content he was to wander around the Wilds, winter was not the ideal time to do so. They would have to settle soon.

He wasn’t keen on sharing much. October didn’t take it personally, but she couldn’t help but wonder why the wraith hadn’t gone on his way yet if he was so disinterested in her. She shifted her weight as he spoke his name curtly, although she didn’t make much of an effort to commit it to memory. With the way things were going, she doubted anything meaningful would ever come of their encounter. “What will you do when winter comes?” she inquired in a gentle tone. She didn’t mean to pry, but her youthful curiosity sometimes came peaking through. She had never experienced winter without the security of a pack and therefore wasn’t sure it was even possible.

He frowned, contemplating his answer. He had not thought of it much, or not as much as he should have. He no longer had a khalas, however small it was, to back him; only two other wolves. I know not. Find pack? Not sure. He shrugged. He was really pushing the limits of his bilingualism here. Soon enough he would get frustrated with his lack of knowledge; did the woman even understand that he could barely speak her tongue?

He seemed frustrated by her questioning; October shifted her weight uncomfortably as she stood before him, her gaze slipping away to observe the fireflies that danced ‘round them. Pale ears pressed backward as the awkwardness of the encounter began to settle on her. She didn’t know what else to say to him.
 
But then he spoke again, his heavily accented voice piquing October’s curiosity. Snowy audits swiveled towards the strange male. “Your accent – where is it from?” October’s own experience with other languages was scant. She couldn’t resist picking the brute’s brain, although part of her did expect him to lash out at her pointless prying.

The khalas' time in the Wilds was brief, and ended in disaster. He wasn't surprised that no one would recognize his culture. He just wasn't sure how to explain it to someone with no context and little mastery over the language.

Dotharan. We live in khalas, in the plains. Hunt buffalo. Our alphas are khals. He left out the part about the raiding; he didn't want her to think he was a filthy, uncultured barbarian.

The meanings behind the strange terms he used were lost to October, but she did her best to fill in the blanks where she could. Khalas sounded like packs, and Zoratto provided that khals were the alphas of these groups. Her brows furrowed lightly and she nodded, intrigued by what the strange male had shared.
 
“You hunt only buffalo? Nothing else?” Buffalo were dangerous creatures; one wrong step and a heavy hoof could put even the most skilled hunter out of commission. October had never participated in such a hunt, however, and so the idea of pursuing the large, powerful animals was a mere dream to her. Her fiery eyes reflected her curiosity.

He shrugged. Buffalo were their main source of food; one buffalo could feed a small khalas for days. But they ate other things; buffalo were hard to catch, and not always around. Sometimes small things; rabbits, dahanna leqse? grass...rat? No word for it in this tongue. Sometimes Qlaseh, deer. But buffalo...sacred. He had no Alastor to roughly translate, but he managed, throwing in his native tongue to help him. Would she understand? No clue.