Wapun Meadow Sing, Bluebird, sing

Travelling had become the norm for Simatra. Day in, day out, she would continue on north. Always north. The path she took was generic, a metaphorical trail so to say, but the maiden took it seriously enough. It was only after picking her way down the mountainside did she fully notice the true beauty of the scenery, the meadow in fact was what truly coaxed her from her post.

Many of the late gems she knew by name, others she simply recognised by colour or scent, an odd thing for a warrior of a tribe to have learned. Strange it may be for any passer by to witness the woman's excitement, yet for Simatra it was a chance to indulge herself. Though frost had claimed the vast proportion of the flowers, the richly coated wolf would flit from stem to stem, foamy eyes alight with passion as names where whispered and new growths clocked. She knew not of what a wolf of her homeland might think, only that for a Dezba it was not a thing of norm.

He knew he should turn back and go home to the Keep, especially since he hadn't said anything to anyone prior to leaving. But the call of the wild pulled him further from his homeland. Tambourine doubled back to the earlier bypass and trotted through it, walking until a stream cut off his path. He helped himself to a long, icy cold drink and then stood there pondering for a while before deciding to head to his right (south). He followed the stream's natural curve until it threaded back toward the mountains. Only then did he part ways with it, moving in a straight line toward an open grassland over yonder.

There was a figure standing among what remained of the season's wildflowers. "Hello!" Tambourine called cheerily, eyeballing the stranger from a distance. He couldn't tell whether it was a male or female, nor determine many details from this far away, so he slowly walked closer. He was a social creature by nature, with perhaps more charisma than sense, although his instincts kept him from barreling right up to a perfect stranger. He paced himself and came to a rolling stop about four yards away, tail slowly waving.

There was nobody in sight, no soul to witness her exuberance in the last of autumn's fingertips as her golden figure came to a prancing pause amongst the iced petals. Her trail was visible, far out to the south as she looked on through bemused, yet slightly pained, eyes. "Oh brother, if you could see me now,' she'd crow, her bark a harsh cover of the inner squirming she tried to hide. She'd set out alone many a time, this one would be no different, would it? With a shake of her head, the nymph turned to pad back, striving back into the heart of the frosted field, a small smile plastered upon her muzzle. She'd forge a life of her own.

Hello!

The call was what drew her head up high and lead her body to composure as her mint pools caught site of a small figure up ahead. "Ah, young one!" the maiden would greet, face crinkling into a grin as she approached the youth. "What are you doing out here? Surely you're not alone." The query was more to satisfy her own curiosity than for actual need of knowledge, though if this stranger needed assistance there'd be no doubt that Sim would gladly lend a paw.

The stranger called out to him, her voice a friendly, feminine lilt. Tambourine's smile widened and he took a few more steps toward her. His head cocked at her pet name, as well as her question, and he paused to think for a moment. Why shouldn't he be out here alone? Was he in some sort of danger? He looked side to side, then back at her, and suddenly wondered if Stark would be angry with him for wandering off by himself. He really hadn't done it intentionally and certainly didn't mean to displease the man that was, for all intents and purposes, his father. He coughed a little sheepishly.

"I am..." Tambourine replied. "I'm exploring." He paused, flicking his head to get his flopped ear out of his eye, only for it to fall right back over it. "How about you?" His eyes wandered over her figure, which was rather easy on said eyes, before meeting her cool mint gaze.

In comparison to her own pumped up self, the child seemed relatively relaxed. Perhaps it was her way of talking that slowed his youthful mind down; a sensitive statement? With a raise of a metaphorical eyebrow, the woman would offer the grey stranger a taught twitch of her tail. "Being alone can be fun, I suppose," she'd reply, skullage dipping to touch gently the forehead of the boy as he moved closer. "I'm exploring too... more or less." 

She saved the details, for she wasn't sure if the young wolf's mind would comprehend her true motives. "Do you live round here, young one?" The identity of the svelte child was still unknown to her, and vice versa for himself, yet the woman made no move to ask, simply curious for his innocence.

There was that nickname again. It didn't really bother him, though Tambourine didn't fancy himself that young anymore. He was fully grown, according to Stark, and stood taller than many of the adults he knew. Speaking of which, the stranger tried to reach out and touch his forehead. He didn't mind it—he actually bent down to accommodate her—though he blinked a little awkwardly at the contact. Was it customary for two strangers to touch like this?

"Yeah, I live at Marauder's Keep," he replied, figuring it counted as around here somewhere. "I'm Tambourine," he added. "What's your name? And do you live around here?"

"Simatra," she voiced in reply to one of the grey wolf's requirements. She drew back from the contact, albeit a little sheepishly, to rest a few feet away. Perhaps it was her time spent away from the tribe that had her overestimate the confidence and trust that two strangers should behold; she deemed herself a little off in the head yet she had meant well, hadn't she?

She listened to his introduction, nodding her head in response as he spoke his name in a way to distract herself from the apologetically queer situation she had helped to create. "I lived far from here in a tribe. I was a Dezba there, a warrior." She thought little of her family, though she held her brother within fond memories. "Tell me about this...Keep," she'd ask, "What's it like?"

He found it interesting, these different words: tribe rather than pack, Dezba synonymous with warrior. He opened his mouth to ask a question, though Simatra unwittingly cut across him. He forgot all about inquiring about her culture when she asked about the Keep. Tambourine's tail stirred as he thought of home. Perhaps he should have felt a pang, missed the willows and the wolves he hadn't seen in days, but he was not afflicted as such. Nonetheless, he called them up with utmost fondness.

"We live in a willow forest near the bottom of a mountain, back that way," the juvenile said, motioning to the range at his back. "It's great!" he went on enthusiastically, pale eyes gleaming like chips of ice melting in the sunlight. "Stark—he's like my dad—runs it, along with Banner. They're awesome. You should come visit sometime," Tambourine declared, despite barely knowing her.

A light-hearted chuckle escaped the lips of the golden nymph as the youth performed in varying displays of enthusiasm. In many ways he reminded her of herself when she was younger; charismatic and awfully innocent, yet she knew things were unlikely to remain like that for him. In time, the boy would encounter many, yet for now Sim caved to his easy nature.

"Perhaps," she spoke, fondling his offer with humour. Her direction was unclear; she yearned to claim a life for herself outside the former duties she had once succumbed to yet nurturing that side of her was harder than she had expected. Maybe a trip to visit a roving pack would do her good. "You don't happen to know about herbology or remedies, do you?" she'd chip. Before their encounter she'd had the chance to scour the meadow and, though she knew of many, some plants' usage were particularly anonymous to her.

She made a noncommittal reply, though that didn't bother him. In the next breath, she moved on with the conversation, asking him about herbs and remedies. Tambourine shook his head lightly. Healing interested him, though only a little. He liked the idea of helping others but what little he knew about medicine seemed extremely complicated.

"Nah, I don't," he said, wondering why she asked. "Why? Are you hurt?" he asked, concern coloring his voice as he began to scrutinize her body, searching for signs of a wound.

He denied her request of sorts, a dear disappointment to the golden woman and not what she was looking for. With a dismissive huff, she let her tail hang limp, deciding not to press the matter and rather get to know Tambourine. "It's ok," she'd smile, "And no, I'm perfectly fine." Whilst her words remained directed at the youth, she couldn't help but glance once or twice over his smarted grey shoulder towards the range he claimed to hold alliance to.

"I've never seen a land quite as scenic as this," she'd murmur, quite out of the blue until catching herself with a little shuffle and a good-humoured grin. "Sorry, I often get sidetracked."

Simatra seemed inordinately disappointed by his lack of medical knowledge, despite the fact that she wasn't wounded. Tambourine nibbled at his lip, wondering at her behavior. She tried to change the subject, commenting on the scenery, but for once the youth wasn't easily distracted. He was very intrigued by her response.

"Why'd you ask then?" he wondered, voice authentically curious. "Do you?" he guessed. "Know about herbology and remedies? Is that part of being a—" Tambourine paused, trying to recall the word she had used for warrior. "—zebra?"

Tambourine was ignorant to the nymph's newest distraction and for that she was mildly grateful. It seemed her social life was still in the wings, and so words were often blurted out rather unintentionally. His subtle language went more or less over her radar, and so tilted her head only slightly to one side as he queried more on her natal habits

His questions were a series of strung enquieries of which Simatra listened dutifully to, a crinkled laugh bubbling up her throat at his last word. Of course, she had no idea of what a zebra was, and so kindly corrected him with an apologetic look of amusement. "A Dezba," she'd grin, tail buffing the ground. Her disappointment was fading, she supposed knowledge wasn't an immediate need; a want more likely but definitely not essential...not just yet. "I don't know much, I'm not really meant to. Just sort of picked up a few tricks along the way. I find it interesting though.".

She corrected him and he offered a sheepish smile, though his expression grew confused and curious again at her next remark. What did she mean by that? Tambourine's head tilted so far to the side that his ear flopped totally over his eyeball. It distracted him, prompting him to jerk his head back to get it to stay upright. It did, for the most part, just the tip crinkling over.

"Not meant to...?" he repeated in the hopes Simatra might explain.

Moments passed as her words were accompanied by a series of confused gestures from the boy. It had made perfect sense in her head, yet to a stranger she supposed it would be a little baffling. "It wasn't unknown for a Dezba to have herbal knowledge," she'd explain. Her father had been a warrior, yet had received lessons from her soft-spoken mother; a way of affection, of sharing knowledge to ensure an equal understanding within a relationship. "I was still undergoing my training, though, and so it was forbidden for me to seek teaching from the healers."

Her express ion remained thoughtful. "I used to watch them whilst I was preparing to spar."

Simatra explained and Tambourine offered a thoughtful, "Oh." He weighed her words in his head. He knew that warriors were one thing and medics another, yet he had never realized they were so compartmentalized. Wouldn't it actually make sense for a warrior to know a little bit about medicine, to treat his or her own injuries? Granted, he knew so little about trades or how they worked, so he decided against inquiring further.

"I'm hungry," the boy announced, apropos of nothing. "Are you a good hunter? Would you be able to help me find some food?" Tambourine wasn't yet very adept at hunting even small game, though he wasn't terrible. If Simatra declined to help, he would either catch something for himself or likely begin the journey home, where there was plenty to eat.

The nymph paused her preaches as she studied the youth's reaction, head tilting when his mouth opened and a sound akin to confusion was produced. She leaned forward from her perch, jaws parting to settle his worry, yet was interrupted as the boy announced his hunger. Her tail buffed in amusement as she listened diligently to his request, head dipping noiselessly in thought and agreement.

"I'm not bad," she'd remark, rising to her paws. "Come, let us seek out some prey. We can't have you going hungry." With a sweep of her tassel, Simatra encouraged Tambourine to join her on the hunt. She'd let him take the lead; his skills her unknowns of her and it wouldn't hurt for him to gain some extra practice. Perhaps they'd find something decent within the wilting meadow.

This felt like a good place to fade; hope that (and the mild PP) is OK!

His tail began wagging when Simatra readily agreed to help him hunt down some food. "Thanks!" he chirruped brightly, taking a step back as she swept to her paws and began to move. But she gestured for him to take point and after only the briefest hesitation, the youth galloped ahead, big paws thumping the cold, dry grass even as he dropped his head and began to sniff for scents.

The two of them managed to scare up a skinny rabbit feeding on some of the dormant meadow grasses. Tambourine gave chase, barking loudly, but it was Simatra who landed the fatal blow. There wasn't much meat to go around but the small meal definitely took the edge off the youngster's hunger. He polished off his share in minutes, thanked Simatra for everything and then declared that he must be on his way as he prepared to retrace his steps back to the Keep.

Of course! I'll wrap it up here :)

Food was a welcome treat for both, however small it was. After a brief exchange of thanks, she would watch as the youngster readied himself to depart, offering her own vows of good-wills. His company had been a flourish while it lasted, and as the afternoon began to slide past, they went their separate ways. She dared not to leave the meadow, and turned to complete her round, offering a final farewell before her figure faded amidst the field of frosted stems.