Grouse Thicket A black fly in your chardonnay.

For @Wraen!

There was a river leading towards the sea, and she traced it back over the course of hours—maybe a full day, she couldn't keep track—until the scent of the ocean dwindled and faded, replaced by a strong sulfur-like sourness. It wasn't an improvement at all, especially to the siren. She missed the scent but, with the way the Mother had been reacting to her presence Minerva had trusted in her path. Mother Sea did not wish for her to be near, not right now, and so she would obey. However, the earth around her was just as unstable—and the growing unease within her heart helped very little.

The river twisted through a maze of green and before Minerva knew it, she was surrounded by trees. They weren't like the strange growths along the coast; these were splendid giants, old growth sequoias, clusters of elm trees riddled with moss, and soon she was overwhelmed by the sight—and scent—of pine. It was different from what she was used to, but she felt safe for the first time since her emergence from the sea.

On more than one occasion there was another smell, but the woman could not identify it. It reminded her of the bitter scent of the nesting rocks from Kea Island; a smattering of ridges and dangerously high stonework where sea birds often roosted. The rookery had been home to all sorts of avian creatures, but there was nothing similar to the topography of this forest. Intrigued, Minerva began to investigate the thicket—and was surprised to find feathers netted among the pine needles beneath her paws. The thought that a forest could be home to terrestrial birds was so strange to her, but her belly rumbled as she stalked along.

Soon she was invested in the hunt, disorienting as it was for her.

Elfie had insisted on doing a solo-hunt and Wraen had given in to the teenager's whims. Once they were away from the copse and had entered the thicket she knew to be inhabited by birds, but also rather safe to let a bold boy have his own way, she wished him luck, bid him farewell until few hours later and then went the other direction to see, if there was anything to her liking. 

Despite the rumbling groans of the earth and the rockslide in the river the previous week, things had been relatively calm for the Firebird wolves. Wraen, of course, did not believe that this would never happen again and was glad for the territory that offered as many outs and aways in case of need as possible. She was not so sure about the sister-pack, which resided in the valley with only one path in and out, but did not voice her concerns to their leaders. It would feel like an intrusion and everyone knew, what happened with good intentions. 

With her mind occupied with these thoughts and the others, she grew aware of the presence of a stranger wolf only, when it came to her sight and was few meters away from her. The she-wolf seemed to be tracking and one-look down at the trodden path told Wraen, what it was. She moved to the side to have a polite distance and sped up to come in paralell with the grey she-wolf. "Care for a company?" she asked and smiled.

One would think someone so focused and attentive to the forest floor might miss the attentions of a roaming stranger but, in fact, Minerva was hypervigilant due to her growing hunger. So when the woman crossed paths behind her, Minerva was not so oblivious; she saw movement in the corner of her eye which could have been anything, and when she turned to glance towards it with all the confidence of a proper hunter, she saw the woman.

At first there was some distance between them. Even so, Minerva could tell by their conformation and stride that they were of the feminine persuasion, giving her a reason to slacken her otherwise tense body.

Within moments the warm-toned shape of the other woman was standing alongside Minerva. They were bold; their innate trust that Minerva was not a foe was a welcome sight since she had been away from her sisters for quite a while. The siren sniffed the air casually to learn what she could of the stranger, but turned her ears attentively to the welcoming sound of their voice. 

At first Minerva did not know what to say. Yes, she was lonely and lost without her sisters, without the guidance and presence of her Mothers. Was it right for her to befriend a native of these woods? Was this what Mother Sea was so adamantly pushing her towards? A flash of doubt ran through her mind but stopped cold before it could spawn deeper worries in her heart; Minerva had to trust herself, because she was a daughter of the Sea and Moon. They would not lead her so astray.

Yes, please. Commented the she-wolf with a mirrored smile. The stranger seemed to be in good health and was not so put-off by Minerva's investigation of the area. They held the scents of children and other wolves upon their coat, which begged the question, Have I come too far, ah, too near, a home? The last thing Minerva expected was that her gods would put her in harms way on purpose; she was devoted to them entirely, but did not know what to make of the wolves so far inland yet.

Wraen was met with neutral politeness and, while the other spoke, she took a moment to regard the girl's handsome features. Contrary to herself, the other did not bring scents of other wolves, which was a relief for her as well. For a while it had seemed that quite a few groups of wolves had decided to settle along the coast, claiming some of her favourite grounds both for hunting and leisure. 

"Not that I know of," she shook her head. She had met other people now and then in the thicket, but no one had expressed a desire to stay. "There is a youth of mine that is hunting at a different corner of this area, so don't get alarmed, if you hear some crushes and swearing," she added. And just as she said this, somewhere far off some birds fluttered up in the sky. "That would be Elfie," she added, beckoning to the general direction of the ruckus. 

"My name is Wraen - I am leader of one of the packs nearby," she introduced herself and waited for the girl to return the favour.

The woman was fairly plain, but in an appealing way. Average was not an apt descriptor for this woman although she seemed simple to some degree - composed, assured of herself. There was an endearing quality to the smooth manner with which she spoke, and Minerva finds herself wondering if they are a mother. It would not have surprised her at all if this woman had been chosen to bear a litter for her tribe. And when she spoke of a child — or some sort of youth in any regard — it warmed Minerva further towards this idea.

She could not help the brief smile that warmed the curves of her cheeks; she thought, how odd a name for a daughter, this Elfie, and never once considered an alternative. It bolstered Minerva's confidence and faith (within herself and gods alike) to hear of good fortune and stability in this space. Especially so for a sister - whether they were the same tribe or not.

My name is Wraen — the woman began. The siren briefly opened her mouth to introduce herself too, but then was caught by the curious statement that followed. A mother, perhaps a guardian (for Wraen seemed like a stalwart creature, like the Amazons), but the Matriarch of her tribe? It did not suit the image Minerva had hastily constructed in her mind of this woman. More importantly, if this was the ruler of the tribe why was she taking daughters out of the territory? Why not a priestess? Where were her consorts, her guards?

Minerva was silenced by her thoughts, quick though they were, and after a moment managed to say, I am Minerva. I am honored to meet you. As was customary for her people, she dipped her head low, sweeping for a bow until rising again. I am surprised - you, leading your tribe, being out here. Do you not have others to do the work? Perhaps it was wrong to be so presumptive, so forward, but she did not know how the world worked off of her island.

If Wraen could have known nearly half of, what kind of image Minerva had painted in her mind, she would have been surprised and amused. Matriarch, priestess, consorts, guards? Of all four Firebirds had one - Finley was a matriarch of the Blackthorn clan - the rest she could wish for. But since she had no idea, what was going on inside the other's head, all she saw was a stranger with pleasant manners. There was a bit of stiffness, that she though she percepted, but that might have been first awkwardness of meeting another person for the first time.

"We are a small family," Wraen replied to the inquiry, smiling at the odd choice of "tribe". "Kids learn much more, when they are outside than staying within. I believe that one should make the whole world their home rather than just one, little corner of it," she explained. "I gather that you are new in these parts?" she asked.

The woman is friendly and open, sharing many things in a short span of time. Minerva absorbs it all and puts aside her questions, tries to limit her opinions since they have no space here, and nods her head in agreement to some of the comments. She has not been blessed yet with children of her own, although one day she does hope the sea will choose her; she hopes she has many daughters to make her people proud. Training children outside of the tribelands does not sit well with her - but they are not her children, and these are not her customs to uphold.

Then the woman asks, I gather that you are new to these parts? Probing for weaknesses, maybe, or simply inquisitive. Perhaps travelers are common the further from the sea one moves? This is not the first time Minerva has been off of her island home; her first foray in to these wilds was short-lived, but she was here now. Roaming, learning, doing what she could to survive and understand so that she could better serve her sisters. There was much to be learned here.

Minerva nods. It was not on porpoise. Er, purpose, she blunders through her comments, misplacing a word and hastily correcting herself. The tongue of the mainland is so very different from what she knows - and the words sometimes jumble in her mind. but yes, new. I come from an island. This place... It is very different. As she says this Minerva's gaze sweeps around at the overwhelming shadows, the imperious trees shuddering against the wind, and then looks to the woman again.

"Island?" Wraen raised her eyebrows, wondering, whether it was one of the islands from nearby coasts (she was sure she had met one gangly teenager, who claimed to live in a place called Undersea and which was connected to the mainland by a sand bridge) or an entirely new place altogether. Both options were possible, but as long as it was far away from the copse - she found she did not really care to find out exact coordinates.

"Different, how?" she asked, casting a glance around. She had done travelling in her time and still enjoyed to do it on occasional basis. All places she had visited and where wolves chose to dwell had things in common - waterways, trees and grasslands nearby. Basically it was not so much, where one preferred to live rather than whether that place provided all and enough necessary for a family to survive. One learned not to get too attached to locations as they got older.

"I have never lived on an island, of course, but does such home not have inherent danger in it? Isolation is good for defences, but what if food runs short?" she speculated and then it occurred - was this the reason, why the girl was here? Running from famine was a good reason as any to leave home.

Different, how? Asked the woman, looking around briefly, perhaps for the child she was caring for. She went on to speak of some benefits which Minerva herself had never considered; the easily defensible coast, the limited land, the restricted prey. Perhaps that last one wasn't so much a benefit - it meant they had to be careful over portions and allocations, but that was made simpler with the culling every season. There were never too many mouthes, everyone always earned their share. Of course, in a culture that was dismissive of men, it was unlikely that a man would earn a lion's share regardless of his devotion. It struck her then as unfair, but Minerva was not about to think ill of her people, nor was she eager to entertain thoughts of their bias; she was well conditioned.

There are dangers in every place, she calmly stated. My home, the island of my family — there were dangers, of course! The coastline, many hard stones, but... We are powerful swimmers, too. Minerva could have cited the power of the Mother Sea in this instance, for only She could control who lived and who died, regardless of an individual's skill; or so she was taught to believe. But she did not think her beliefs would be so welcome by this woman. Not that Wraen appeared untrusting or in any way unsympathetic to Minerva's beliefs, but... She was a heathen after all, not a blood-born Nereides, so she would meet resistance.

Our food is well... Organize? Organized. Controlled. Digging through her mind for her language lessons, she hesitates a bit as she tries to speak and dislikes the sound of her accented tongue. The sea provides, she says with warmth, and a wave of her tail. Here, there is so much more space — so much possible danger, yes? Easy to be lost. Easy, too, for strange people to find you. Which made the mainland very different; Kea Island had been difficult to reach and well fortified against invasion.

"True. But here you are and I am the strange person, who has found you," Wraen tilted her head to the side and smiled in a slightly amused manner, enjoying this conversation every minute more. Organizing and rationing food did sound practical and clever, perhaps, it would have saved Sunspire from a certain doom, but then again, how did you tell two alpha pairs not to breed? Or cull the bastards of a low-ranked female, who had joined the group already pregnant? The idea was good, but Wraen would not want to take the responsibility of executing it. You could not think about people as things. When you did, you were in trouble.

"More space - more options. It comes with a price, but I have stayed alive and been well-fed and fairly free to do, what I want, or go, when I get tired of one place," she explained her point of view, but her tone did not attempt to convince the other. Each of them were used to a different place. "How did you come here then - it seems that you were very fond of your home?" Why leave it now?

The woman proves her point. She has clearly always lived here on the mainland and finds her own sense of value within it, a comfort, and Minerva can appreciate that senitmentality. She is devoted in her own way to home, even though the island is so far away from her and so far removed from her current circumstances. When the woman brings up the topic of how she arrived here, Minerva feels suddenly too foreign to explain herself: this woman is proud and powerful, and appears to have a down-to-earth sensibility that Minerva doesn't feel would mesh with her truth, so she doesn't immediately launch in to the fanciful notions of gods and new paths and all the superstition she, herself, was raised with. There was time aplenty for Minerva to convert people to her way of thinking—this was not one of those opportunities.

But she didn't have to lie, either. The tale came easily, and Minerva tried her best to make it as simple as she could without screwing up with her accent and broken common-tongue.

I did not wish to leave, she admits, first of all. I was given mission. To find new space for another tribe. There are places on my island home that few have gone, but I thought—'Pick me! I can do it!' so, I was sent. But there was danger. I got too close to edge of water, I slip, water takes me away. It was as too-the-point as she could make it and afterward, Minerva is sighing, feeling utterly deflated by the thought that she might never see her home again. So I am here, and have nobody, have nowhere that is home.

"Providence," Wraen remarked to herself quietly, listening to the girl's adventurous journey to these shores. She briefly thought about the family Minerva had left behind and how her disappearance must have caused a reason to worry. But come to think of it, perhaps, the gods had known, what they were doing, when they had swept the girl away. An island was a trap no matter, how huge. In long term the girl had better chances to fulfill her purpose here than anywhere else and, if all went well, live to see her new tribe flourish. 

Wraen was tempted to offer the stranger a place among her own family, but decided against it. Were it not for the number of kids they had there, things would be different, now anything she would say in favour to Firebirds would seem as if she was seeking for manpower to manage a bunch of children that weren't their own. Maybe it was a too critical thinking and maybe she was simply tired to see all the good points about Wildfire's dream. 

"There are quite a lot of packs in the vicinity of the coast and further inlands. If you are in need for a home during winter - I think that no one would turn away an able adult wolf," Wraen suggested diplomatically. "You will get to know people, perhaps, you will even meet someone, who knows, how to get you back to your island," she went on, playing out a "what if I were you" scenarion in her mind. "Or find suitable land and like-minded people to start a tribe of your own. Many wolves have started like this before you."

The woman used a word she did not know, earning a slight turn of her head and pivot of her ears. But then she went on to speak freely of the packs in the area — none in detail, but with enough information to rouse interest in Minerva.

The thought of building a tribe here, where the ocean felt so far away, did not feel right at all; but then maybe that was what the Mother Sea and Moon had wanted after all? A change, a chance to show their daughters that another life awaits off of Kea Island. Minerva realized in that moment, while Wraen was still talking, that this could've been the entire purpose of her near-drowning. The baptism in the sea, the arrival to a new land within which she could spread her faith. This dawned on her as a gasp, as if she had kept her head under water for too long and her lungs begged for oxygen; it was a new thought, terrifying but enthralling, which made her smile and think of a possible future.

You are right, she adds when the woman has finished speaking. This is an opportunity. I will learn of the existing tribes, speak to people like you, learn of your ways. I will travel, I will grow - and maybe in doing so, find my place. It had been a unique experience, arriving here and speaking with a native rather than trying to overwhelm or convert them; she had enjoyed the conversation far more than she anticipated, and was thankful for the sage-like advice of the Matriarch. You are wise, commends Minerva easily. I will go and I will see the world. I hope your tribe fares well in the coming days.

Wraen felt both flattered and a little surprised by the sudden burst of inspiration in the greyscale female. Young wolves in her experience did not like to listen at lengthy lectures and, if they did, their expressions usually were of eye-rolling and expressive sighs. This stranger, on the other hand, having been washed up on the shores recently and still quite disoriented soaked up her wisdom as a sponge. Which made her suddenly feel responsible for her words. Disappointments awaited Minerva - there was no doubt - but Wraen sincerely wished her success as well.

"I haven't travelled East myself in a very long time, therefore I do not know, if packs I knew by name then still exist there now," she tried to remember the map of the wilds, but it had grown blurry and fuzzy from disuse. She could not give Minerva any other information than names. "Just beyond this mountain range," she beckoned in the general direction of, where Moonspear's claim was, "there is a pack that call ciffs and hills their home. They are led by Hydra and her family. They are proud, territorial and might not look kindly upon strangers."

There were fine points about Charon's legacy as well, but she felt it better to prepare the stranger for the worst. Ostregas were like bees - you never knew for sure. "And in the valley south from them, there lies  a forest, where wolves live, who worship gods of... darkness and evil. They have caused trouble in their time, even a war," she described Blackfeather woods from bits and details she had picked up. "There are few - there might be less now - packs along the coast as well. One was called... Drageda, I think, and they spoke their own language had quite a battle-ready upbringing," she shared, what Wildfire and Sequoia had told her in their time. 

"I recall that in my mother's youth - she lived here as well - there was a pack that worshipped gods of Northern origin and there were others, who had a whole religion built around the sacred bears Sos and Atka, I think," it was clear that these were no longer Wraen's memories, but someone else's. She could not repeat them just as easily and flawlessly as she could her own. "Never met them myself, but - be warned - all kinds of people live here," she concluded her lengthy monologue.

"Just, before you go - could you share, what was your tribe like? Do you have a deity that look after you as well?" she asked, never missing an opportunity to add another story to her collection. But the girl seemed to be in a hurry and Wraen did not get to hear a new story that day.