Neverwinter Forest You can hide underneath me and come out at night

Occurs at the same time as this.

Vercingetorix's destination was clear, but Dragomir couldn't bear to accompany him. He was certain, with his emotions turned into feral beasts snapping at every organ, that one look at his mother's face would be enough to make a murderer of him. He couldn't handle it, didn't want to see her ever again after what Hydra shared, so when father went looking for mother, their son went elsewhere.

He meandered slowly through a thick pine forest, where the pointed boughs of the trees were heavily enmeshed. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began, and the carpeted forest floor was cast in deep shadow as a result. There was the smell of another wolf in the area, picked up by keen nostrils as he picked his way in search of food, but Dragomir thought nothing of this. Everywhere could be found the smells of lone wolves either passing through or making their solitary homes. Such wolves were no threat, and he had no reason to think any differently of this loner's scent.

A crow winging overhead was followed, leading Dragomir eventually to the fallen body of a skinny hare. Its hind legs were a bloody smear beneath a fallen sapling; it had surely died trying to free itself from its recent prison. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, a hungry Dragomir hobbled over to it and began to feed.

The first time was rush -- no brains, just whatever a giant pile of adrenaline happened to make him do.  He could be more patient now, and perhaps that was why this would likely unfold considerably different than the other thread.  The trespassing scent drew him like a moth to a flame, keen to investigate.  Not a familiar scent, as far as he knew -- maybe distantly familiar via third hand transfers kind of thing, but no where near enough to strike a chord.

The scent had woven kind of near one of the small caches he'd buried, but hadn't gone the full distance -- it was enough to put him somewhat on edge.  Still, he followed, but the one at the end of the trail was not what he was expecting.  You're in my home, he said as he cut from the shadows towards the boy.  It was a deeper note than Mal typically spoke, disapproving but not super hostile.  Yet, at least.  His fur was somewhat bristled, but he stopped, held his ground, watched.  Children had the excuse of not knowing better, especially if they were taught like he was.

she follows her brother at a distance; respectful of his solitude, yet completely unwilling to let him go off on his own. between following her father to face her mother and put rest to the lingering doubts, or ensuring her brother isn't alone, she chooses the later easily. it's the presence of someone else that has her close the distance swiftly, a distinct sense that the two of them are no longer alone. she hears the voice before she too emerged from the tangle behind Dragomir, the tiny jolt of familiarity strengthened when she sees the boy's face. it's distinctive enough not to forget, but it's the smell of blood that has her attention flick to her brother. 

had there been no hare, she likely would have had some semblance of respect for the boy's claim. but as it was, the mere sight reminded her of the full force of her hunger, the same Drago must surely be feeling. "leave him alone." she asserts, hoping her brother will keep eating. food has jumped to the top of their list of priorities as of late. 

she's not especially aggressive, but firm as she stands by Drago. "we'll leave when he's finished." it's the distinct lack of many scents here that has her add the latter, fueled too by a fragile courage that stems from never truly having engaged in a real fight, but trusting she'll win all the same.

Dragomir's attention was focused on the rabbit, but that didn't mean he was totally oblivious to his surroundings. Anxiety was his constant companion nowadays and that also meant hyper-vigilance, even when it was uncalled for. Isilmë could get away with following him from a distance, but he heard Mal's paws before his voice. By the time he spoke, Dragomir's hackles were already lifted. Ordinarily he wasn't one for defensive displays, but desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. He was hungry, he'd just had the worst news of his life dropped on him, and his legs hurt. He was in no mood for company.

Especially because this company seemed to think the forest was his turf. The boy's eyes flicked up to ensure the encroaching stranger wasn't Merrick, and when he saw it was someone unfamiliar, Dragomir opted to ignore the warning. A wolf on their own had no claim to anything but the food in their mouth. Even the most confident of wolves couldn't hope to hold any territory on their own. It was simply impossible.

Besides, Dragomir had back-up in the form of Isilmë. That was kind of a fluke, but it emboldened him even more than his roiling emotions already did. For the first time ever he had the unwise notion that picking a fight might be the only way to settle the rage he felt—he was wrong, but he didn't need to know that. The juvenile straightened up, licking his chops, and passed his sister a silent look that begged her to eat as well. And just in case Mal got any funny ideas, Dragomir stood at his full height and growled low in his throat, warning the merle wolf away from their meager meal. You have no pack, he noted pointedly, as if to say, you and what army?

Though he had longed to roam the wilderness, he hadn't wanted to do it because someone had gone astray from their proverbial flock. It had been days since @Vela had ventured out to investigate the tremors and when a thorough search of the slopes and forests out from the pack hadn't turned up much of a trace to her whereabouts, they had spread out. Today took them north, out towards the not so distant peaks and sway of earth, and he had set his sights on the density of evergreens and how they nestled against the tall jut of the mountain.

There were traces of others there, though difficult to discern the new from old; the weathered trails of history remained, still trodden even now, and Dirge navigated them with ease. He was far from alone in the woods though, knowing that @Hydra and @Arcturus wandered their own trails, and they spread like a fan through the hazy woodland. Yet when her pitch dark brother had sprang off at once, Dirge moved to follow him, and Hydra brought up the end just as sure and swift.

The scene unfolded soon from there, and he set his eyes on an unusual sight, though maybe not so much given the circumstances. First they were on the children and their prize, but then on the yearling at the helm of things with an utterance and lobbed replies.

He felt the sharp nip of Hydra at his flank, an urging, and turned to meet her gaze; these must have been the children that @Vercingetorix had in tow. By the time his gaze snapped back, he had lost sight of Arcturus in the shade from their vantage point, and moved to follow and break into the tense situation. What were they doing, out here? He would find an answer later, and settled his gaze sharply on the silvery cut of the yearling's face.

"They're with us," he provided, certain the presence their trio brought would dissuade a further deterioration. Or not. "Surely you're above stealing food from children." He disregarded the claim, thinking it false.

vela had gone to scout the wildlands to learn of their damage, and had yet to return. 

the yearling worried for his sister as he prowled, searching alongside dirge and hydra. their expedition took them deep in the grove of studded pines, and here arcturus heard voices and scents familiar. 

he pulled himself close, lingering under the shade of a darkened pine bole. the cubs of vercingetorix gathered, one bent over remnants of a meal — the other standing protective vigil. arcturus followed her gaze and spotted a wolf of strange pelt tapestry; he said nothing as dirge spoke, wondering of the tension that roiled about them.

Unsure if Hydra is/was going to remove the post since it was mentioned but it's still there so shrug emoji?? Vague about her, but since only one of the rest talked... XD

Mal, apparently, wasn't gonna get to get another word in edgewise.  He started to open his mouth when that white pipsqueak he'd ran into a few times before showed up. Uh.  Shouldn't she be like.. Off with her dumb family or something, not in the far side of his territory from where he'd last seen her?  And so he opened his mouth to say---!  And before he could make some snarky remark about how thieves are supposed to not get caught -- another, another, another goddamn wolf appeared.  Or something like that.  It didn't really matter, there were far too many of them.

Who the hell were all these twits who just popped out of thin air?  Jerks, obviously, from the fact that they traveled in a herd like deer, wandering away from wherever it was they must have originally existed. Probably needed the show of force to bully people since they weren't able to do it on their own or something.  Either way, it put Mal in quite the awkward position -- mostly because for once he was going to try to be a bit cunning about it all, but that plan trashed, time to wing it or something.  Not a stranger to the entire world being against him, Mal held his ground and kept his cool -- if they were going to contend they had the right to traipse right on in, then they had no right to say Mal couldn't hang out and do the same he had always did.  Sure, he was irritated, but neutral as someone who had a random gang of people bust into his campsite and raid his cooler could be.  He may be stupid but he wasn't a fool.

As the self-crowned most neglected child out of everyone he knew, Mal turned his judgement sharply to the brown guy -- if he was going to claim the wayward kids, then he should have actually like.. Been a responsible adult and not just ignoring them like they obviously had been up until ten seconds ago.  Surely, you should actually care to feed your children instead of forcing them to wander off to find things by chance in someone else's home. You're far from yours, wherever the hell it is.  And you should go back there, and leave Mal alone. Duh.  Hint hint and all that.  He was pretty sure there were no packs within at least a day's travel, so they were way out of their way in his eyes.

Skipping Isi to keep this going!

Mal didn't respond to Dragomir's assertion that he was alone, not that he had the chance to—no sooner had Dragomir said it than two wolves materialized from the woods. He didn't recognize the tawny male who spoke, but he recalled Arcturus with a hot flash of embarrassment from their meeting on the fringes of the pack's territory. What, he wondered, were Moonspear wolves doing out here? He hunched protectively near Isilmë and their scavenged food, glancing between the gathered parties suspiciously.

Had they followed he and his sister? Why?

That wasn't to say he was ungrateful for their interference. If Mal had any designs on the two juveniles before in spite of being outnumbered, then he would be stupid to act on them now that he was vastly outnumbered. The merle wolf had a lot to say about the wolves in his home, but once again Dragomir growled low in his throat and reminded Mal that, you're alone. Did he really think he owned this entire forest? All by himself? Even to a kid like Dragomir, the notion was laughable. The only thing a lone male like Mal had a right to by default—no different than Dragomir, or Isilmë, or any solitary wolf—was any food in his mouth.

A demure smile spread across his face as the yearling's words curtailed sharply. Restraint may have been the word for it, but the truth of it was that Dirge could not retain a mask of stoicism. It was an all too sharp reminder of someone he would have liked to thought of as better of dead and maybe if the age had lined up a bit better, he might have considered this fellow one of Charon's kids. At least, maybe a slightly more hateful, mouthy branch—he couldn't have possibly been cut from the same cloth as the rest of them.

His gaze shifted to Dragomir and Isilmë instead, more when the former offered back an icy lashing that was very pointed and for the most part, very true. The wolf hadn't called for any sort of reinforcements, but then again he hadn't anticipated more stumbling along if the ire-laced words suggested anything. But was more curious to Dirge was how he simply threw out that it was his home and how he likened the two children in their company to be more feeble than they seemed.

"Oh, where we're from isn't as far away as you may think, but they seem to be quite capable of feeding themselves," he went along conversationally. Granted, it wasn't exactly what Dirge would have really called a meal to split between two fairly grown kids, but he couldn't have said he had done better at their age. Fortune did favor the bold, or so it was said to be... and hopefully it would favor all of them in the way that Dirge brought his gaze once more to meet that of the yearling.

The trace of annoyance had left him to shift towards more of a veiled warning.

"You'd do well to mind that tongue in the meantime, and we'll be gone as soon as they're ready. Then you can have your solitude again." It was cheeky, that demure smile turned smirk; he knew the commentary wouldn't go over well and stoked the fire of such keenly.

there was little arcturus needed to say following dragomir’s pointed remark, and dirge’s careful yet cutting reply. he found himself glancing past the stranger to the forest around them. the dark eaves and densely situated boughs made the pinewood feel dark and secluded— no wonder the stranger favored it.  

he might have stayed quiet were it not for the budding question that pressed on his tongue. if this was inhabited, they ought to know — was not the forest part of the spear’s indomitable reach?

perhaps his nose had failed him, or maybe they chanced upon a pine-laden path that choked out markings. either way, arcturus finally spoke. is there a pack, or is it just you settling here? what do you call yourself? a hermit in the wilds was hardly worth the attention of the queens best men —but if a pack was indeed forming under their noses, it seemed they ought to know.

Wow.  Yeah these gits were so far up their own rear ends they could probably check for stomach ulcers.  Mal's expression flattened.  They were absolutely not worth his time or effort -- they were here to screw with people, and they were probably incredibly disappointed he didn't try to kill the kid.  That's what these kind of people did, obviously.  Goon squad must be an attractive title for some people.  

But the last guy to speak up at least wasn't adding to the fire.  Little late to have a reasonable conversation, wasn't it? All his buddies had come here, stolen what should have been Mal's, done their damnedest to make fun of him, threatened him... The list went on, but now this other guy was trying to get information from him? Lolwut.  He at least turned off the stony unimpressed attitude for a moment so he could respond properly, Look, thanks for at least being reasonable, but I think I'm done talking when it's pretty obvious nobody else will be listening unless it allows them to be a jerk.  Come back some later day, the right way, we can have a chat.  Because holy hell, he was not going to deal with intruders lurking about to just heckle him.  Who would?

Back to the rest of them, and his 'wow you're complete idiots, unfortunate,' expression, It's a rabbit, not a boulder, will you just quit being a wuss and yank the damn thing free and take it to go already?  I'm pretty sure everyone will be happier.  Obviously they were enjoying harassing him now.  They got to strut around like they owned the place (newsflash, they didn't), talk about stuff they didn't know anything about, and Mal had to grin and bear it, not just due to numbers, but because of the members that he had, no matter when, none of them were much in a fight.  It was him versus the world and the world for some bizarre reason enjoyed dumping half a pack on him over and over and over again.  They could piss right off.

Dragomir was an immature wolf. A combination of factors had made him this way, but all led to him being uncomfortable in solitude, quick to pin the blame even when there was no blame to be had, and surly when things didn't go the way he wanted them to. His dependency on others was more characteristic of a wolf of four months than the six that he boasted. His troubles with his parents stemmed from his separation anxiety, which in turn stemmed from being left behind on multiple occasions by the both of them, to the point of developing a little bit of a victim complex regarding being left alone—so Dragomir knew a little something about immaturity.

His was nothing in comparison to the way Mal was behaving.

As Mal ranted on, Dragomir's eyes turned to flint. He couldn't remember ever feeling so unimpressed with another wolf in his entire life, and that was saying something, considering who his role models had been up until now. For the first time he was faced with a creature so undeserving of respect that he couldn't even manage to be civil. It helped that Dragomir was already in a rotten mood and Mal felt the need to insult him in spite of being outnumbered. His ears became sharp peaks over his head and his neck arced severely upward as he faced down the merle wolf and bared his teeth with an accompanying flash of his red tongue in a fearsome growl. Vercingetorix would have been proud. Never before had he felt a need to dominate a lesser beast by force, but he was in a foul enough mood now that beating down this fool if he didn't take the hint would feel mighty satisfying.

Dragomir wasn't a fighter, had never trained to fight, but he didn't need to—he had allies, and Mal was alone.

arcturus was not an impulsive creature, or even an impatient one — yet he found his composure quickly tested by mal.

ever so subtly he looked to dirge, to measure his comrade’s impression. he himself was left with a poor taste in his mouth — and all semblance of civility was about to leave him.

if this male was a hermit, a squatter, perhaps it would not be folly to drive him from under and out of moonspear’s range. arcturus hated the idea of ruining a potential ally; yet somehow he did not feel hydra would weep for any loss here. a mouthy loner would be even worse, arcturus imagined, once he was donned with some semblance of power.

some ties were better off not fashioned, he supposed.

dragomir’s shift to all-out imperiled aggression prompted arcturus to act sooner than he’d like — but the boy’s reaction was fair given all that had transpired. arcing his tail above him in command, arcturus spoke quietly — yet a solemnity about him rose and demanded of its audience a silent respect. you will do no such thing. you will state your name and who you are, should you wish to stay here. you are in the reach of moonspear, and if you value a future in diplomacy, it would be in your best interest to humor us. the queen does not take kindly to vagrants in her realm, particularly not impudent ones— and i would hate to have to come back here and hunt you down myself.

Another droll yet scathing exchange happened, but this time it seemed to entice his pitch-haired companions more so than the rest of them. Which wasn't to say that Isi didn't have a certain fire about her either—Dirge was unsurprisingly the outlier, who couldn't help but steal a skyward glance as he heard the rumbling begin and caught sight of Arcturus rising to the challenge, speaking of diplomacy.

Yet the thing he thought he knew about diplomacy was that it was a very fine line to walk, and if that line had been drawn in the sand then they had been veering across it back and forth wildly. If the merle wolf had indeed been in the process of claiming that territory, then it was a slow progression. Brazen, given the timing, but so was Vercingtorix leaving his children alone in the woods given what had happened with them. Unless they had followed, which again, Dirge did not put outside the realm of possibility. But with the variables quickly getting out of hand and surely into territory he didn't care to toy with, he found his gaze leveling out once again and shifting between his brother-in-law and the young charges in their company.

"Easy," he chided of both of them. "I think he's offered us a fair deal for his and our wasted time. Let's take the rabbit and regroup elsewhere, and leave him to his own devices." Like erecting his poor borders, or failing to bolster his lacking numbers, but neither of those suggestions sought to roll off his tongue. Where Hydra would have sought to tear the yearling a few new holes for his forwardness, Dirge wanted to make good on the tactical situation (or truly the lack thereof). They knew he was there, and he would know they were there. The wolf could be dealt with later—the children were decidedly more important.

They had been through enough, or so he had been told.

The goon squad was also apparently really bad at sticking to who was playing Good Cop -- so bad it was gonna give him a bit of mental whiplash.  The kid was just super ornery and irritating and should probably watch himself or he'd get thumped by someone who wasn't interested in actually helping people like Mal.  But hey, wasn't his problem, these dudes had to deal with them!  Enjoy that trouble!  However with black guy becoming suddenly demanding as all hell and brown guy saying nah, it had Mal looking between the two of them with a bit of confusion.  Hell if he knew who was the boss, so he defaulted to The More Reasonable One, the title which had been bestowed on the brown wolf now.  Reward those who weren't being complete idiots, right?

Mal, through all of this, hadn't budged from where he'd been standing.  He wasn't gonna bow (he had every right to be there) and aside from his initial growls when the kid had been alone(ish), he really hadn't been threatening physically.  His words were plenty aggravating on their own, apparently.  Speaking of, he kept his composure and did at least give the Now Unreasonable Guy a bit of information in his reply directed to Now More Reasonable Dude, If you do come back for a chat, you can howl for Mal.  It'd probably be best for all parties if it was some day that didn't start with an intrusion, then having them be all self-righteous about owning the entire planet as a start, as Mal was so not into any of that.

Maybe on the way out they'd notice the borders they'd traipsed across.  You'd think with five plus months of Mal peeing all over the place they'd have noticed something, especially since he'd become rather more adamant about keeping them checked over the last month or so.  Maybe they thought his piss smelled like pine needles.  Or they were just from a particularly olfactory-limited bloodline because Mal sure as hell had no idea how it was they could come charging on in and not expect to be greeted with irritation.

Dragomir's hackles remained fully flared, even when Arcturus and Dirge spoke and the order to stand down was given. As of yet, these wolves did not control him, but he was wired to heed authority, and both wolves commanded plenty of it. His snarl remained a silent warning on his face for Mal to keep his distance if he knew what was good for him, and his back remained prickled as a porcupine's, but he slunk over to Isilmë's side and stood between her and Mal as she collected what remained of the rabbit and they made to leave.

Dragomir took the opportunity for one last show of how little he respected this manchild's so-called pack: he scraped his feet in the dirt as he turned to depart, depositing his own scent and kicking loam across the ground in Mal's direction. A little like spitting at him, if you would. That done, the boy—fired up by recent transgressions in addition to his ridiculous treatment here, and unappreciative of his instinct to dominate Mal being squashed by Dirge—flagged his tail high in the air and marched away with a muttered indication that he was going to meet up with his father.

Last one from me unless Drago is attacked or something!

normally diplomatic, arcturus’ patience had been tested — and found woefully lacking. his hackles mirrored dragomir’s, but dirge’s sane words reeled him in. in some ways he was sorry the older male had not seen his side or had his back — but later, upon retrospection, arcturus would realize his take was hot-headed, and dirge was right.

in this moment though, arcturus remained riled enough that mal was given the full bite of his stare: he had never been less sorry to be disrespectful (charon would probably be proud). he would stay here as long as his charges deemed — and in no way shape or form did he rush as dragomir sided along isilme and then made motion to meet up with his father.