Moonspear hazine haze

Tracing a familiar path heading towards the thick of their forests, she came down the mountain earlier in her day than necessarily intended. Hunts successful, cached, and hunger abated, she then had found no love in the view of the valleys spread in all directions; clouds had moved in early in the morning and thickened across the afternoon. Gray, dreariness stretched to every horizon, and while she welcomed any oncoming rain, watching a slow-build roil from start to finish was nothing particularly special to her. She would find something else to do in the meantime, and keep an eye on the skies from there--wherever that may be.

Practiced paws made short work of the route and she started to find the footpaths of others soon enough, but not yet the wolves themselves. The elusive matron continued her descent as she went instinctively gliding into silence herself--never intending to make it all too easy should she not be alone for very much longer.

*snags*

There is something magical about a gray day; even the glint of sun off his gilded pelt is no match for the touch of rain-kissed winds against his cheek, the look of a cloudy sky. He stands high atop the mountain, near the peak, head lifted and eyes closed against the gusts. Storms are rolling in, soon, and he will take shelter when he sees the first bolt of lightning. For now, he revels in the tempest.

When light finally breaks behind the clouds, and he feels the hum of electricity through the air, Llewellyn begins to descend the Moonspear, snaking down the winding paths until his paws touch not stone but dirt and leaves. Once he is deep within the alpine forest, he begins to track--but a flash of black fur amid the trees distracts him.

He thinks it is Hydra, at first, but upon further study, his suppositions are proven incorrect. No, she is older, wiser: a queen, not a princess. Llewellyn is drawn to her immediately, gentle steps taking him closer and closer until he is within calling distance. He gives a low, amiable chuff to her, the sound rumbling in his chest. He carries himself proud but submissive to her; no other mortal could make him bend in this moment, save her.

She is the queen, and he is her subject.

The shadow never found herself particularly attached to one route, nor to any singular goal awaiting her at the end. Instead she only listened to the subtle curves of the forest, and the mountain at large, until it was someone else's presence she found dotting the landscape--and it isn't one of the usual sorts, interestingly enough.

Not one of her own, so it is with new that she let her paws draw closer to his golden-furred countenance (a welcome enough contrast to such drab, slow grayscale skies). Each step nearer lightened compared to the last and though a calculating look about her as she's gauging him doesn't so openly suggest outright friendliness, she picked up a slow rhythm to her tail to counter it. Her greeting in turn comes as a short, small rumble back too.

He had stayed with them for the summer so far and come to know several of her offspring. Ame has seen him in passing, smelled him on several of hers, and for this alone, she ought to know him. He seemed to know what he needed to, replying to her company with respect and pride intermingled well, and never had she come close enough to see the extent of the scar running on his shoulder either. When she paused with her approach angled at him so she may look at it pointedly, then back towards the rest of him; she wasn't shy about sizing him up. She knew he guarded her home, came experienced enough in some manner. What could he do, how could he? His stature suggested strength, his lines meeting well enough at a mere glance.. this wasn't a wolf crafted carelessly, she suspected. Could he answer?

He had hoped that she would, at least, speak first--but it seems that is not the case. There is, however, a lot of words in her silent gaze, much to read between the lines. He sees her gaze linger over his body, his muscles, his scars. A test, of whether he is adequate enough to protect her family. She will not know it for sure until he has the chance to prove it, but for now--

"We have not yet been acquainted," the prince says gracefully, dipping his head. "Llewellyn. I joined your family's pack two moons ago. In my old home, I was a warrior." There is not much else to say, unless she has questions. . .and she certainly has questions.

Right now, though, Llewellyn is more interested in her. Who is this woman with sea-green eyes? Surely kin to Hydra and her siblings; the matriarch, he thinks. There is a wisdom in her face that suggests seasons of knowledge, having endured times of plenty and times of hardship both. He wants to know her stories, her thoughts, her wishes.

True, it had never before been so face to face between them. What she knew came through Charon, along with the others. Summer just gave her another reason to be elusive, her growing pups and her family all the interaction she could seek in a day and night's time sometimes. "Even for coming to us  at a.. strange time." she said with a soft shift to her ears. "You have done well by us so far," she commended, tone lighter than before. Fresh off the mishaps of enough traitors for the year, Ame welcomed anything steadfast enough to stay and keep up honestly. She only wanted him to know she hadn't missed it, and knowing his prior home conditioned him as a warrior as well only made it easier. Although it was peacetime, she believed strongly in warriors, always.

"I am sure you have figured out a bit about me through my kin," she said, curling a slow swish to her tail then too. What else did he want to know? What did he know? She had been here far too long to keep it too brief. Her information came likewise, for now. "But. Amekaze. Ame, preferably.." she said, being honest. He already knew where she stood. "Charon and I are the original founders here, though I came from warriors before too. Perhaps it shows a little bit," Ame chuffed, especially when she kept that in mind when rearing her various litters over the years.

The praise sends a pleased warmth blooming through his torso, bringing a small smile to his face as he bows his head in gratitude. He blinks slowly, absorbing her other words. Truthfully, he has not heard much about the dark queen from her kin--but now he knows her name. And as for the final remark. . .

"Indeed," he rumbles, gaze flickering over her scars for a moment before returning to her face. "A warrior born. I can spot a soldier from a mile away. A pleasure to meet you. . .Ame," he trailed off delicately, smiling broader, now.

He lifted his chin at the alpine forest around them, the gentle slope of Moonspear. "I am grateful to you and your husband for inviting me into the fold," Llewellyn says, his eyes for once in the present moment, rather than a thousand miles away. "I trust you understand that your family has my loyalty from here on out. I do not make such oaths lightly."

She did not put lengthy thought into what he may know already. It would be a quiet sort of knowledge, subtle and lurking like she might prefer. If he knew a various handful of her offspring already, he would maybe see some of her strengths and desires reflected back through them, and their blood alone. Maybe, considering the scenery she kept, alongside the company, he might know something too--and face to face? Much else. Hard to tell, exactly, but she always knew the silence suited her all to well and he would know how to read into this--for what she said was true, it only began to tell the whole tale.

It was good, and he tested her name so she nodded gently before he detailed, while she mulled it over. "Thank you," she returned, and took the liberty of speaking for Charon too but there was no doubt that they were grateful as well in a time when loyalty was so damn hard to come by. She believed in her family first and foremost (mostly, barring those few who abandoned them), but wolves like him could be equally as important given the time, and circumstance. Something about him made her hopeful, so far. "Tell me more about your homeland?" she suggested. Scraps of it that alluded to a greater picture that she gathered through her mate had been enough to make her curious, and seeing his bearing firsthand before her--now, especially, the timing suited her to find out more.

He sighs at the question, gaze meandering once more. "It was beautiful," he murmurs, seeing again the undulating hills, like waves. . . "Green plains, lush forests, all on the edge of a great sea. It was perfect." Homesickness curdles like bad prey in his stomach, and he looks away, feeling. . .

Well, guilty. For slipping once more into nostalgia, when he should be focused on the present. He dips his muzzle to Amekaze in apology. "It is no more," Llewellyn explains. "I am here now, and that is what matters. This mountain is my homeland now. Mynydd is unrecognizable." Traitors. God would see to them in the afterlife.

Ame felt that his fondness gave her a clearer vision, so she suspected as she could piece together some semblance of a mental image--and like so many beautiful things in life, it was gone. Or as it was as he told it. She did not know how between the lines to read into, and instead, for the sake of now, she took it as it was: a homeland destroyed, either physically, or metaphorically. Though there lurked the urge to pry, she bit it back when she was left to wonder how it had left him, and if it was all too long ago.

Instead, she would test something else, and far simpler. Mynydd, she attempted with a furrowed face, though it lacked the particular handling his tongue could grant it. She didn't feel she did it justice. Too bad, though. Not that you are here—that the beauty had to end, she mentioned and shook her head, softly. I like to hear of places I will never see, I guess, she smirked subtly then, and glanced past him with interest. Are you busy? We could cover ground, the dark matron gestured vaguely down the elevations, where she was bound to be before the day was done.

I like to hear of places I will never see. This is a sentiment that intrigues the storyteller within him, and he smiles, something warm purling in his stomach. These little moments, bit by bit, make Moonspear feel more like home. He treasures each one, knowing how easily hardships can fall upon a place--even a mountain such as this. Who knows when it should all slip from his grasp once more?

Llewellyn nods to her suggestion, happy to accompany her. That would be wonderful, the prince answers, his gaze following her gesture. He is keen to explore, and even more keen to do so with a partner. Not just a partner, really--his queen. It is his honor.

Lead the way, fy Mrenhines, he rumbles, his smile remaining, but his face turning to something more stoic and humble. He is at her service.

When she had long since quelled her urges to roam and rove the great wide-opens, this suited her plenty, based on what she needed, and what here needed back from her in return. She could find out other bits and pieces about the histories and the tongues he had known before later, on the way. As he agreed to her suggestion of motion, she slid on with a wordless sweep of a nod to take the lead. She went on quiet on her toes before she freed up her stride, and made room for greater length.

There were a few stops she had in mind to check up on, and cut a direct course for the nearest one.

Although she did not ask for now, she hung a swiveled ear at his last words--first as something so foreign and new, and then as ones she would rather not even hear in her own voice, too. The connotation was clear enough, however, and after outweighing the temptation to ask outright, she decided she would let some of the mystery of it remain for now as she brought them towards a relatively open stretch of pathway, and sped up--so with that, she would guide the route necessarily enough, attentions split, and senses keen.

i'm wrapping bc i'm sure they need utd threads <3