Sun Mote Copse down, among a million same

Firebirds!

The mountain had not been kind to him. It was the season that made things difficult, and his own bravado which got in the way of his progress, leading to failure. Tulimaq had thought himself to be more than capable of taming the mountainside. He was Tartok! He was a mighty beast of the ice according to some elders, those that spoke of a grandmother who hailed from these Wilds—but he had failed. Failed the wolves of the wasteland, failed his own bloodline. He came down from the mountain with a hitch to his step and a half-healed crescent scar crossing his lower abdomen. A reminder from the resident boars that it was their mountain. He would be back. One day Tulimaq would climb those paths again and those lowly beasts would rue the day they let him live.

He was alive, though. The puncture hadn't been a deep one, and the curving tusk that had penetrated his soft tissue had not eviscerated him as expected. Fate, maybe. Luck, more like it. The boar was long dead now and frozen among the red-cast trees. Still, Tulimaq wasn't in a good head-space. He marched down from that mountain without looking back, and as he came through the glimmering copse he finally had to stop and take a moment to catch his breath, something he'd never been forced to do before. Oh, how he loathed those swine of the black hills — he breathed deeply, unfurling a draconic cloud as he fumed and exhaled, realizing only a moment later that he wasn't alone in the woods.

With so many creative ways of explaining nature phenomenon throught divinge interference, Wraen wondered, why hadn't her grandfather's ancestors ever told anything that related to snow. Just think, how many different kinds of water nymphs were there: oceanides that lived in the vast kingdom ruled by Oceanus; nereids of the seas, who accompanied the great god Poseidon; naiads of fresh-water sources such as springs, creeks and brooks; Eleionomae, who ruled over marshes and swamps, leading travellers to their doom; limnads preferring freshwater lakes and even hyades the rain-maker nymphs. But none for snow.

It did occur to Wraen that maybe these stories that had been passed on from one generation to the other had their origins at a land, where people were not familiar with the four seasons she knew since childhood. That even on those rare occasions, when it had actually snowed, different reasonso could be attributed to it. Being one, who had inherited all this knowledge, Wraen wondered, if the spirits of the old would be very against her adding something new to the already numerous and merry bunch of nymphs?

With these thoughts in mind she wandered through Sun Mote Copse and paused only, when she caught sight of a fellow, who had come to join the Firebird group during the pack meeting. Had he given his name and she had missed it? Either way she approached him as if she knew him and greeted like a good friend: "Hi! How are you settling in?"

The stranger seemed set on an introduction despite having stumbled upon him completely by chance, and while Tulimaq was not exactly a talkative fellow lately, he couldn't help but let his guard down a little bit. Maybe the mountain had beaten him, but it was a temporary stalemate; he'd recuperate and try again when things were more favorable to him. In the meantime, being friendly with the locals was the best course of action — so he listened to her inviting voice, and then cleared his own throat in anticipation for a response.

Well enough, he said, but that was a slight fib. Tulimaq did not like to waste his time. Not that this conversation was a waste of time exactly, but — he was accustomed to having a job to do, a duty to perform, a goal to achieve. At the moment he felt listless. His last goal had been to conquer the mountain he'd come from, but that had ended in failure. Now he was stuck, and wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hated it.

Have you been in the forest very long? He asked of the woman, but it was somewhat pointless — he already knew when they'd started to settle. Tulimaq had encountered their scouts well before he invaded their meeting the other day. He was trying to get a conversation going and was out of practice.

"I arrived with my sister Maia not too long before you. Maybe a week or so before," Wraen explained. "We lived in Sunspire mountains before that and been travelling for several weeks around the valley and the coast. Saw some great places, met various people and after meeting Wildfire, we decided to take a rest until spring," that's, what she had half-promised Maia, though the longer time she spent in Sun Mote Copse, the less likely her departure seemed. The place felt like home to her.

"But I am rude for not offering my name - unless you heard it from someone else before. Wraen Redleaf-DiSarinno," she offered her full name and reintroduced herself in hopes that the guy would be inclined to repeat his name also. Because at this moment her memory was offering it's own versions of, what this guy's name could be (beginning with Stick-Insect to Clarence), none of them being the correct one. She knew, when her brain was improvising, instead of working hard to retrieve, what she needed.

He wondered if his efforts to form his own pack had failed because of his own lack of familiarity with this region, or just because he was alone when he began. If his siblings were here — his brothers, even his sister Ikkuma (wherever she may be now), or anyone of his Tartok ilk — it might've worked out differently. Tulimaq chose not to dwell on this line of thought. Considering possibilities was a waste of his time now that he was here among the Firebirds.

The man listened as attentively as he could, and made sure to recite her full name a few times in his head so that he'd not soon forget it. It seemed like a mouthful compared to, Tulimaq. My family call themselves Tartok. Although some of the elder wolves of his battalion had told him stories about a potential link to the Teekon Wilds, which was what initially prompted his investigation. Apparently there was some bloodline here and he was connected to it — but that wasn't so important to him, so it fell away as soon as he'd started roaming the region.

He thought of this now, but only briefly. Best to stay on topic.

The mountains in this place are formidable, he mentions next, thinking of Boartusk Heights and then the eastern range, not realizing that the mountains to the east were precisely the ones Wraen was referring to. He did not have names for many of the locations within these Wilds. It is good to meet another mountaineer. We are hardy people, and I'm sure these Firebirds will benefit from having us. A rough smile dons itself across his snout then, and he looks rather proud of himself.

"Tulimaq Tartok - you are definitely a new one," Wraen said after a brief pause, during which she had been going through all the notable and known family names in this valley. Ostregas, Frostfurs, Blackthorns, Redhawks, Redleafs (counting Indra and Laurel, her and her siblings, there were six of them in total here) and a ton of wolves, who hadn't bothered with such nonesense and been the friendly neighbourhood "Jane"s and "John"s.

"Where are Tartoks originally from? You said mountains - any around here or elsewhere?" she asked, curious to find out more about her packmate and his origins.

New? He couldn't help a raise of his brow at this comment, but he didn't say anything for a moment. It shouldn't have surprised him that the name was foreign but it did, mostly because he'd been raised on stories of Tartok within the area. Tales of Sawtooth Spire mostly, and bits and pieces of what came before that. Then again, Tulimaq had arrived in the Wilds thinking that the entirety of it had been conquered at some point and had been sorely disappointed when he realized that was false.

Her next question was aligned with his own thoughts. He shook his head though - choosing not to dwell on the failings of his people. Far to the north, mostly in the tundra and on the icy mountains there. My mother came here a few times, and I was told my father was born here, but the rest of Tartok is spread out. He spoke easily of Saghani his mother, even though he did not have the best recollection of her. She'd been killed while tracking down one of his wayward siblings — and afterwards, he was too busy with his training to think about the loss.

Where do you hail from? He asked next, a little bit distracted by his thoughts so - he was probably rehashing something she'd already told him. Before this she was at a mountain called Sunspire but where did her blood originate, he wondered.

"I was born not far from here at a coastal forest in a pack called Donnelaith. Unfortunately a fire burned that place to the ground and the former wolves, who had inhabited the area, dispersed," Wraen told, making herself a note to take Maia there one day and show around, even if that had never been either her home or birthplace. "But me and my family have been nomads for a very long time and after I left them, I still have travelled extensively," she went on. "Which makes me feel that the world has always been my home more than one certain location."

Although he'd been all over the Wilds, Tulimaq could not say for certain that the place she mentioned was familiar. He didn't recall ever crossing paths with wolves from a place called Donnelaith before - but that was likely because it didn't exist. Things happened, people moved on, occasionally (in the case of the druids) forests burned down.

I agree, he mentioned, in relation to her comment about the world being her home more than any one place, My people have always been nomadic, only settling to continue the bloodline. Occasionally conquering smaller groups and absorbing them. When I arrived here I was on the other side of the region — I'd run in to a few packs there, ah, Easthollow first, and a newly-arrived group by the Lost Creek — He listed these things off and did some name-dropping to see if they registered as familiar, but mostly he was recounting his experience because he missed being on the road. Eventually I moved on, crossed the mountains and eventually ended up here.

He wasn't entirely happy with his status in life right now, but thinking of all the work he'd put in to the exploration of the region (and the sparring, the testing of its inhabitants) brought him a sense of nostalgia, and a rugged little smile.

"Lost Creek Hollow is a pack led by my brother Terance and his good friend Rannoch," Wraen remarked, happy that they had more things in common than being newbies and having traveled a lot. "And I have heard about Easthollow, but neither been there, nor met anyone from there," she added, recalling that they were allies and that Terance had met the good-looking and then single leader of the pack on more than two occasions. But maybe she was mistaken.

"I assume then that Tartoks have been around for a very long time," she returned to the topic of Tulimaq's origins. She realized that she was sticking her nose in a personal business that one does not do on the first meeting, but she had done her share of being tactful and polite all her life. She let the reins loose for now and the other party always had an option not to tell anything. Though usually they did. "There are packs that have very interesting traditions and belief systems - anything similar running in your bloodline?" she asked.

It was good to know that the band of wolves he chose to serve was connected throughout the region; hearing that this woman was related to the warrior he'd sparred with piqued his interest too, and put Wraen in a new light. Tulimaq wondered if she was as skilled as her brother — perhaps he'd find out at another time. She was asking questions about Tartok and the man was more than happy to speak about his bloodline.

I'm not sure what counts as interesting; our leader is the strongest among us, we defend our claim with tooth and claw, and value strength of will. He spoke openly about this but also chose his words as if they were practiced. It was likely his explanation was part of a broader lesson that had been ingrained within him as a boy. Mantras that felt familiar to him. Most packs behave similarly, from what I've seen. Only the strongest may lead. Do you agree?

"Oh, I agree, but I doubt that brute strength alone is enough to be a good leader," Wraen replied to his question. "There is a beautiful allegory for this in the stories told by my forefathers," she went on after a brief pause. "There is this supreme god - strongest and the most powerful of them all - Zeus by name and in the tales he has many wives. Metis, who is personification of prudence and wisdom. Themis, who personifies justice, law and order. Eurynome, who was mother of Graces. Mnemosyne - godess of memory. Hera, who stands for family values. And he has many interactions with mortals too," she told.

"Of course, one can lament the god for having many wives and not being very faithful, but the point is that supreme power has to be allied with wisdom and prudence, divine majesty has to have a bond with justice, law and order, strength has to be harmonized by grace and beauty and such leader has to have compassion for those, who are weaker," she finished. "Long story short - strength and power alone are not very stable stones to stand on, if one wants to be respected, admired and have a long rule."

They talked for a little while longer, but eventually Wraen decided that she might be boring the other party with her lengthy philosophical talks and therefore gave him a rest from it. Bid a goodbye and most likely never saw him again.