Lost Creek Hollow the older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune

It had been years since Riordan had last visited this place; he thought of this as he worked his way along the giant's stairway — it petered out as he traveled the cuesta, which had some ridges too but none as sheer nor as harrowing as the hillside to the east. The last time he had come this far west had been his first excursion away from Toraigh. He had been a fool of a boy at the time, but -- he thought of Eshe, of Harlyn and Mordecai, and felt a twist in his gut. They hadn't been that close. He had been so keen to stick with them, to learn of a world outside of his own kin, but in the end Riordan had slipped away.

As he followed some vaguely-familiar paths, he came to the hollow. Or rather, one of the winding trails leading towards it. As his burly figure gave pause to the forest, his blunt head dipped towards the soil, sniffing, investigating. He wondered how well the pack had fared and thought that it would've done well - perhaps it was still here, perhps he could apologize to them and find Eshe. But it had been years, and things changed so quickly during the lifespan of any wolf.

Still, he was surprised to find some strong markings on some of the trees; their bark was scored near the earth, and there were gouges in the dirt from someone kicking their claws through the soil. There was no mistaking the scents — there was a pack here, and Riordan felt the electric thrill of surprise mingling with a little hope, a little nostalgia. He lifted his head and called for Mordecai — assuming he was still the master here — and as his voice died out in the air, Riordan settled back on his haunches to wait.

Little did he know.

Treason had passed the section of borders that was the origin of the call not too long before.  At least her patrols were one thing that hadn't really been effected by her rise in rank.  Or had it?  She actually had to go answer the calls now instead of ignoring them.  Perhaps if Rannoch had been up and on his feet she would have left it to one of the much more amiable men, but eh.  It would be obvious in this case if she neglected her duty.

The name called for was entirely unfamiliar.  Unsurprising, given Treason's age.  It wasn't like she'd spent enough time in the Wilds to have known what had happened ages before.  Hell, she probably wasn't even old enough to have been born when that particular page of history was new.

Still, it made her mildly curious, so she appeared on the scene relatively promptly, looking the man over with her usual critical stare.  Not anyone visually familiar either.  Hm.   Treason carried herself with her usual show of rank, though was attempting to at least practice seeming not quite so hostile.  Possibly mixed results on that one, but at least she wasn't shanking him with her gaze, Are you lost? she mused.  What else would explain calling for a wolf who was very obviously (from her perspective) not here?  Probably the wrong pack and they wanted Easthollow or something -- unless someone had taken up an alias, in which case she was quite keen to hear what trouble they'd been up to.

cameo unless noticed!

the hollow did not feel settled to merrick; it felt tense, but in a different way than it had seemed in bearclaw. xan was scarce, laurel sharp, indra reserved as always. the boy sighed, pacing through the woodland. he had not met the other children in the pack, preferring to keep to himself these days. only nunataq could stir him from the little funk into which he had fallen.
today, a masculine howl for a man called mordecai cut through the territory, and merrick loped toward it. there was no one here by that name, no one the boy knew, anyway. sequestering himself in a nearby stand of trees, the young wolf watched the woman, treason, address the loner in her usual prickly manner. he had never known what to make of her; even now, merrick hoped she would not spot him.

He assumed that someone familiar would intercept him; he thought of those he once knew, and even though they were faded memories he could still recall some names. When a stranger eventually found him, Riordan mentally shuffled through the names like he was arranging a deck of cards — not Harlyn, not Eshe, not her fairer sister, hm. They held a swagger that Riordan appreciated; he liked strong women, and more so, he couldn't expect that things would stay the same after his years of absence from the area, so it wasn't so strange to see a wolf of some esteem that did not otherwise appear familiar.

The man chuckled to himself upon hearing the question. He could've argued that, yeah, he was lost. But he'd come from Toraigh and followed the familiar paths - like he had before, when he'd come upon the hollow the first time - so no, not really lost. A bit befuddled maybe, a man outside of time.

Dia dhuit! Ach, no, I would nae say that; I was in the area an' I thought to pop in, check on my ol' friends. His accent was much thicker this time around too, but that happens when you spend the majority of your life around your horde of Irish-speaking relatives. Tell me, how does Mordecai fare? Ah, and  his bonnie — Harlyn? They are still the masters of this 'ol patch, aye?

For now, the sulking shadow of a boy was omitted because Riordan was focused solely upon the defensive woman, eager to charm her and get some answers.

Treason's world hadn't exactly been exactly broad when it came to languages.  The only other one that had a reasonably strong accent that she'd come across (that the player remembers) was that gold boy from Moonspear.  It wasn't really the same, obviously, but enough time had passed that she had to wonder if this was some compatriot of that guy.

One of the advantages of being in a pack since the start was that she had pretty good knowledge of who'd come and gone -- the names were entirely unfamiliar.  Unfortunate for him.  Treason shook her head, responding in her even, calculated way, There have been no wolves in this pack of those names unless you think they may go by another.  We moved here maybe a month or so ago, and before us I don't think there was anyone claiming this territory for quite some time.  The ones you're looking for may be long gone. -- Terance leads here, as do I.  Regardless of Terance thinking Rannoch's lowered rank was temporary or not, this guy didn't need to know at this point.  Is there something that we could help you with?  She didn't know if he was just here to say hi to his buddies or if he had some other goal in mind.  Her asking in the first place was also part of her attempt to be a little bit more... Charismatic wasn't the right word, but maybe "slightly approachable."

The news hit him hard, and as the stranger explained things he felt the wind being pulled right out of him, all the charm in the world seemed to evaporate; he was already sitting down but if he wasn't, he'd have fallen right on his ass, weak in the knees. The momentary weakness passed but as that transitioned through his body, his mind was hard at work as it brimmed over with questions. Everything was explained with the woman's explanation—but it still hurt. It was like he'd been invited to a secret party only to find out the location he'd been given was wrong.

Oh, he countered, finding that this was one of the rare moments where words failed him.

Maybe the pack had moved somewhere else in the wilds? Or maybe something had happened—but then, what? And could it have been prevented if he'd lingered? He thought of Eshe first and foremost, remembering their shared flirtations the way an old man remembers a boyhood crush; he thought of the mighty Mordecai and his wife, and how new everything had seemed. He shouldn't have left. If he'd stayed, maybe it would have all been different.

Ah, I dinnae what ta say, lass. Pains me ta think they're gone, and yet... I donna want ta impose, but I came quite a distance and with winter on my heels, he didn't want to be a burden to these fine people, and they did not know him at all, but at the same time he couldn't exactly turn around and go back to Toraigh. Could I stay here? I'm a warrior, I 'ave knowledge o' tactics and o' dis region - and I can hunt fer you. And anything else would come with time, if given the chance. He needed somewhere to stay until the season eased up and it would give him the chance to investigate what happened — if anyone was around that could possibly answer his questions.

There was the pause as he sorted through his memories or whatever was going on inside his head.  Treason would wait, a very slight tip of her head as she watched.  She was not lacking in patience at this moment and would always take the time to observe and analyze if given the chance.  To answer questions that she then didn't have to ask.

Another fighter.  Not a bad thing, even if he did seem to be older than every wolf in the pack she could think of at this moment.  Probably not useful to her immediate plans unless he proved to be very skilled.  Longer term though, certainly.  Then you will be among good company, but something first...   She wasn't going to invite him across the borders until someone shooed the other elephant in the room away.

If at some point you find who you are looking for elsewhere, what would be your intentions?  Treason said it about as neutrally as she possibly could.  She didn't want to poison the answer one way or another by seeming to favor a choice.  She was mostly just curious and wanted to know what to expect.  Treason was well aware wolves wandered in search of those who had gone, but it was what was done about it that would be more telling of character.

The woman had a point. What could possibly root him here, if he had other obligations? If he found them and they were happy somewhere else, wouldn't that make him yearn to leave and set up shop somewhere else? He understood her apprehension and they were good points, but even as she spoke her concerns he was running through the possibilities in his head and knew the truth.

My word is my bond, lass. I dinnae give it lightly. His tone is serious but he isn't trying to be harsh with her; there is no way for her, or her leaders, to trust what he's saying right off the bat. He has to prove himself to be worthy of any trust. Findin' them would settle some 'o my worry, but I would nah abandon my commitment to yah. I swear it. I dunna think I'd ever find 'em anyhow.

Treason appreciated loyalty, though she knew it at times was a fickle thing.  Perhaps what seemed likely now on down the road would be less the case in reality.  Who knew.  But at the very least it sounded as if it wasn't going to be an issue.  For now, at least.  Some other shiny object could always distract him and make him vanish into the ether like what happened to so many wolves, but it was impossible to tell if that would happen.

Then welcome, unless there are any more questions you have for me?  A slight tip of her head, but she took a step back from the borders as one might to let someone through a door.  She didn't know if he'd want a tour or anything like that either, but at least this was step one of however many.  And it hadn't seemed like she'd horribly failed her first time trying to accept people, huzzah!

Then welcome, was all he needed to hear before a genuine (and giant) grin slid across his rugged face; his tail raised with a wag before settling down again, and he shook his head emphatically: Nah, I'll go get settled in then! There wasn't much for him to say. The reality of his situation was clear to him, and Riordan knew he couldn't go backward to his family claim until the winter ended at the very least; but he meant what he had said, he would be loyal to the wolves that had settled here. Perhaps the winter would prove to be fruitful to him - lead him further from Toraigh and closer to something of deep meaning and value. He gave the guard a friendly shoulder bump as he said, Go raibh maith agat —! Ah, sorrae, I mean thank-yoo. And with that he would depart from her company, heading deeper in to the territory that was once his home - to experience the strange out-of-body sensation of intense nostalgia.