Dragoncrest Cliffs You had your maps drawn

Set a few hours after his arrival. @Arrille

In the span of a single day, he’d gone from search-party-of-one to a member of Drageda—almost a member, that is. Although he was a part of them, he wasn’t yet one of them. That was a place in life that he’d abandoned long ago when he had decided to leave with Freyja. Now that he was back, he had to earn his way, prove to Heda that he belonged there. So he obeyed her orders, keeping to the outskirts of the territory. Keeping to himself wasn’t a new concept, much of his youth having been spent living just as he currently was. Still, he was curious. Not only of the new territory but of everyone that called it home. How many faces had he never seen before?

Shaking his head, Hvitserk plopped himself down on the cold ground, a sigh pushing passed his lips as he did so. Almost immediately after he laid down, he pushed himself back up to his feet and began walking, not wanting to keep still.

Arrille wasn't sure what to think about his placement into the outskirts of the pack, he understood why however. He spotted another wolf, and for a moment thought it might be a member of the pack, maybe someone else new. But they didn't look like Seri, or Furi or Blixen. Or the heda, so it must have been someone he did not know yet.

He approached quietly, then spoke up. "Uh...hiya..." he greeted after a chuff to make his presence known. "You new as well here?"

It wasn’t long before Hvitserk was joined by another, a chuff that sounded from behind him bringing the boy to a stop. Slowly, he turned his head to peer over his shoulder at the other wolf—pale, save for the buff socks that he wore. Although Heda had not given him a description of the other Branwoda, he suspected that the boy before him now was it. Turning around fully, he thought over the question presented, as well as how he might answer. Although he wasn’t new to the pack—he’d been born into their ranks—he was new to the location, their original home long since left behind. With a nod of his head, he decided to answer based on the locations.

Whilst his identity had been assumed, the need for confirmation had him then thrusting his muzzle towards Arrille, pointing him out. In return, he did—and likely would—not offer his own name, remaining as silent as usual.

Arrille watched as the other wolf turned around, then pointed toward him with his nose. He didn't understand the gesture given. He had a confused look on his face, even backing up a bit. "Uh...ok, hi? What are you doing?" he asked, confused by the movement. Then something popped up in his head. "Are you...are you asking for my name?"

The other backed up, prompting Hvitserk to glance over his shoulder to check if there was something behind him. Nothing. Looking back at the boy, his brows pulled together as a result of his confusion. There came another greeting, followed by a question that answered his own, silent inquiries. It seemed as if he hadn’t been understood, or perhaps misunderstood. Either way, it made him miss his sister even more, as well as realise just how much he had depended on her. Between the two of them, she had been the voice, handling introductions and translating his actions for others when necessary. That was something of the past now, as their lives had taken them in opposite directions from one another.

Prepared to abandon the interaction, he was pleasantly surprised as another question disturbed the silence. With a single nod of his head, he confirmed that it was a name he sought.

The other wolf nodded to his second question. "Oh! My name is Arrille...can you tell me yours?" he asked. He wasn't even sure if this wolf could speak at all, he seemed to act as if he could not. "I just got here recently" he said, trying to make some kind of conversation with this wolf.

In a matter of moments, he found that his assumption had been correct. It didn’t come as much of a surprise, given where they were; the silver boy didn’t have what he often considered to be the Guardian temperament, so he doubted his presence was the result of a mere patrol. Yet, if the male had only recently arrived, what had he done to land himself so low in the ranks? Narrowing his eyes, he looked the other over once again, as if that would provide some insight into his personality—it didn’t. No matter, he readjusted his expression and turned away, taking a few steps in the direction he’d been heading originally. Looking back towards the other, he nodded his head in the direction he intended to go, inviting the boy along. Standing around and doing nothing wouldn’t help him get back into the good graces of Heda, so he figured he might as well do something whilst getting to know his fellow Branwoda.

Acting as if he had not heard the request for his name—Hvitserk rarely talked to strangers, or anyone he wasn’t close with, really—he kept his mouth closed. With several sidelong glances cast towards Arrille, accompanied by nods of encouragement, he attempted to prompt him to speak. About himself, he silently hoped, the Viking wanting to learn a bit about the male he’d be living in the same general area as.

Once more, the other wolf did not seem to speak, so Arrille was beginning to believe even more that this wolf must have been unable to speak. He tipped his head a bit, he could not recall meeting someone who could not speak. "Nothing? Can you not speak?" he asked, wondering to know exactly what was with this wolf. 

Arrille was slowly coming to understand what exactly this wolf's sign language meant, and he went to give a reply to the other wolf's movements. "Well, you probably know that I am awake" he answered. "Came here with another...plan to train myself to fight, and stuff like that."

With his silence questioned, he stopped and turned towards the other boy. If he went on letting Arrille think that he couldn’t speak, then that would be similar to lying. He could speak, there was nothing wrong with his vocal cords, he just didn’t like to. If he did say something, he might then be expected to talk regularly, which would never happen. Plus, he really wasn’t familiar with the other, so why talk to him? Making his decision, Hvitserk nodded, comfortable with the idea of withholding information; it wasn’t quite the same as a lie, after all. Close—very close—but still not the same.

Luckily, the wolf was catching on. He shared a few pieces of information about himself, including his plan to become a gona—well, he assumed as much anyways, because why else would be mention wanting to train for battle? That stood out to the young Viking, who then widened his stance and ducked his head down, a growl creeping up his throat. There was no animosity in his expression, only a playful glint in his eyes.

Arrille was curious at the fact that he could not talk at all, but he did not question it any further. He did not know that wolves could become mute, but it also was not hard to believe. He sat down, eyes full of curiosity as he observed the silent wolf. 

The wolf suddenly got down, with a growl. Arrille smiled, he understood what it meant. Arrille got down himself, ready. He had trained in the art of pouncing through months of pouncing on unknowing butterflies. He readied his rear legs to spring forward, then went for a pounce, aiming to land just before Hvitserk to close the distance.

Tabletop thread. Hvit landed a hit.

Hvitserk watched his opponent mirror his actions, clearly having accepted his offer. Readying himself, he glanced over the other male briefly, noticing the tension in his body. As Arrille sprung forward, the Viking braced himself for the collision, which sent him stumbling backwards. With his footing lost and his balance thrown off, he began to sink towards the ground—something he was quick to use to his advantage. Spreading his limbs, he readjusted himself once his chest was nearly brushing against the snow, then used his hind legs to propel himself forward. Turning and tucking his head, he intended to use his shoulder to ram into the other boy’s forelimbs in an attempt to knock him off his feet.

Arrille had misjudged where he was to land, slamming into the other wolf instead. He too stumbled back from the hit, and that was the opportunity, as well as the quick recovery of the other wolf, that was needed to slam Arrille down. He went down hard, and tried to make a grab for the other's scruff, but only bit at empty air as the falling threw him off. He struggled to get up, trying to roll back over before he could get pinned down.

1/3 hits. Rolled a miss.

He had not learned his lessen.

Although slamming into others usually left them sprawled out on the ground, the recoil was something to consider. Whilst it wasn’t as bad as past attacks—he had used his head for those—it was still enough to force him to take a step back and recollect his bearings. It only took a few seconds—they felt like hours—before he was once again after the silver wolf, but those few seconds had been too long. As he lunged forward with open jaws, neither his teeth nor outstretched limbs hit their marks. Arrille had rolled out of the way just in time, leaving the yearling standing where he’d previously been laying.

Tabletop Thread Rolled a hit

Arrille had managed to successfully roll out of his opponents way, getting up quickly onto his feet. They had sprayed snow about around them, clumps hanging to their fur. Arrille took this moment as his opponent had lunged for where Arrille had previously been, and he aimed for leg, in an attempt to pull it from out under the other wolf to then attempt to pin him to the ground.

Hit landed; 2/3.

In an instant, he was heading back towards the ground, his leg yanked out from underneath him. As his body hit he let out a grunt, then twisted around as Arrille made a move to pin him down there. With open jaws, he lurched up towards the boy’s muzzle, aiming to take hold of and use it to force his head down; the idea stemmed from what Heda had done to him. Should he get ahold of it, rather than another part of his body, he would hold tight and refuse to let go.

Hits 3/3

Arrille could only watch as the other wolf made for a grab around his muzzle, as he still held Hvitserk's leg in his mouth. He did not have many options except to let go of the leg and move his head up. He felt teeth grab at the front of his neck, but Arrille had a plan in mind. Twisting his neck enough to get his muzzle above the other's scruff, he grabbed him behind the ears and forced him down under his chest, being careful not to suffocate him.

He missed.

Rather than grabbing hold of a muzzle, his teeth met the soft flesh of his opponent’s neck. Which, although it wasn’t his intended attack, worked for him—until it didn’t. Caught up in the moment, he had forgotten to pay closer attention to his defense and soon felt jaws clamp down around his scruff. Put into an awfully compromising position, he let out a low growl, whilst his body remained still. After finding that he didn’t have a clear cut way of getting free—not without causing more damage than someone should walk away from a friendly spar with, that is—he allowed for his body to relax. With a muffled bark, he let Arrille know that he was giving in, naming him the winner.

Arrille felt the other wolf relax, but didn't let go until he heard the bark. He let go, and skipped away, obviously proud of himself. He hadn't been proud of himself in a long time, and with proudness came arrogance when it came to Arrille. He tramped around like a deer in the snow, with a proud smile. "I won, I won!" He didn't realise that he was being a bit too proud, quite rather throwing his win in the other's face. It took him a bit before he did realize, and immediately stopped, walking up to the other to make sure he was all right.

"You...you almost had me" he said, although for some reason, he felt as if his pride was hurt from just saying that. It didn't matter, for now.

Released, the yearling stood tall before shaking out his coat. He was disappointed by his loss but knew that it wasn’t too terrible of a defeat; he wasn’t quite himself yet, having been traveling as a loner and living off of small prey and scraps for a decent while. Besides, every spar was a learning experience, whether he won or lost. Still, the other boy’s behavior following his win made Hvit’s eyes narrow briefly, a low warning growl rising from deep within his throat—it was not based on aggression, solely being a way for him to show how unappreciative he was of the bragging. Arrogance was something that he’d never developed, unable to take to the mindset that fueled it. It just seemed stupid and was, in his eyes, the downfall of many great warriors; the second someone got cocky, their defenses fell and a string of losses soon followed.

When he fell silent and approached, the Viking watched him, gaze having returned to its usual, neutral state. As if to rectify his actions, he noted the closeness of the spar, at which Hvitserk nodded. Later on down the road, perhaps he would even prompt Arrille into another spar.

Arrille tipped his head to the still silent male. "So...what will you do now?" he asked, even though as the other wolf had answered, they could not speak. He was starting to feel a little awkward, asking questions when they could not return an answer with words.

There was little more for him to respond with than a lazy shrug of his shoulders. Oh, how he missed Freyja—his sister, his voice. Shaking his head shortly after, he dismissed the thoughts and focused back on Arrille before nodding towards the north; he intended to take his leave and devote a portion of his time to a patrol. Without waiting for a response from the other boy—or to see if he might follow—Hvitserk turned northwards and walked away, not to stop until his patrol was completed later on in the day.

Arrille looked north to where the other wolf had nodded towards. He kind of wished he had gotten his name before he turned and began to move away, but to Arrille, he could not speak. It made Arrille curious to know as to why he could not speak. So as the other wolf went his way, Arrille went his own way, toward the south direction opposite of his sparring partner.