Jade Fern Grove so you know i must, you know i must be going back to evil now

tags for reference but also please feel free to join in. . .<3

They could find peace in the cover of the grove. Not so murky and swampy with the fern beds. Slender trees would welcome them. Where she was small and lithe, a runty thing in truth, her companion was built rather well. She wondered if @Gleipnir would find trouble with the density of forest floors and clusters of tight trees in some parts. Regardless of how he might have struggled during their entrance into the grove, she would leave him to rest for a few moments without her presence.

Sakhmet was met with the burning desire to map out the grove, learn the lay of it and what it might provide them while they had their down moments. She knew not where they would go next. She had not thought to ask where he might be off to if he did not have a home. Perhaps that would be the next conversation they conquered.

For now she would stay in silence as she sleuthed through the forest in the cloudy night.

In what most would deem a hypocritical move, he did not mention his departure to Bhediya as he would have required her to do. No, instead, he left without a word, eager to find some game. He skirted the borders of the mire and found himself again within the fern grove, and Pyg smiled, wondering if he'd find his sister here again.

Had it been a moon, yet. . .? Surely, she wouldn't be wandering this late!

A quiet rustling drew his attention, and Pygmalion peered into the darkness. The murky form blended right in, and it was only the barest thread of moonlight hitting stark white eyes did he see her for what she was—a girl. Och, Pyg exclaimed softly, brows drawing together in concern.

She was quite young, not even a yearling yet. What was she doing out on her own? There were scents on her pelt, but. . . Ye all right, lassie? he called to her, voice gentle as he could make it.

Her eyes grew wide with the sudden arrival of a stranger and perhaps the rimmed white would have been clear had her eyes not already been so pale. He is an older man, even older than Gleipnir. She was forced to wonder where all of these strange, foreign males were coming from. And yet he was easilier understood than Gleipnir. So she stayed put in her spot, now rooted to where she stood. He need not know she had a knight nearby. That would be her trump card should things twist into sour intentions.

Why do you ask? Her voice is soft despite the unignorable defensiveness of such a returned question.

since he's lingering out of sight this is just a cameo for now. feel free to skip me & tag me if you need me. <3

the grove sakhmet leads them to is dense and serves to be a bit of a struggle for gleipnir to work his way thru. the boughs of the ferns bow easily enough for him but it is the cluster of closely packed trees that put up a fight. he almost envies the ease in which his companion elegantly weaves thru them as if she were made of smoke. he is a beast made for ice and rock and sea ...all as equally unforgiving as the last. it was not a forest that reared him into adulthood and he struggles to find the paths thru that sakhmet seems to so easily find. to him, marshes and forests were just elaborate and annoying labyrinths.

he gives pause while sakhmet goes on ahead, trusting that she will not get too far ahead of him. he looks around, a bit, stomping on leafy ferns ( perhaps in a bit of childish payback ), nosing an abandoned rabbit warren, and ensuring that his and sakhmet's trail is the only one. once he's satisfied that, yes, none have been thru this particular part of the grove recently he begins in the direction she had taken off, following her scent with ease.

steps slow, hackles bristle with a familiar feral unease, ears cup forth painfully alert as he catches sakhmet's soft voice and the voice of another. the accented words make it hard for the northerner to understand but he knows that it is a him and the defensiveness in sakhmet's voice riles him further. every fiber of gleipnir's berserker instincts tell him to rush forward, teeth unsheathed like the savage he is. but... he hangs back, fighting the twitch of every bristled hair, every taunt muscle, ensuring that he cannot be seen; though, consequentially, this means he cannot see them either.

The retort took him aback, and he found himself suddenly sheepish. Weel, ye're quite young. Dinna see many wolves yer age on their own—was just wonderin' if ye were—

There was a change in the atmosphere, a feeling as if he was being watched. Pygmalion had trained himself to hear over the steam-whistle winter winds of the tundra, so he was particularly perceptive. Squaring his shoulders, his eyes shifted toward the shadows for a moment before returning to the girl.

Are ye alone? Pyg asked. I'm just worrit for yer safety. No everyone oot here is kind. She likely knew that, judging by the look of her. To put it crudely, it seemed as though she had seen some shit.

She wondered how deep his feelings ran, were they but a spring creek in him or was it an ocean? She lingered in silence for a moment. How would he react if she called him forth? To summon him from the depths would perhaps prove a bold move, an aggressive attempt that she did not intend.

I have a guard. He stays near in our travels. Perhaps there was a warning somewhere in there, tucked beneath the knowledge of a possibly looming presence. She still lingered on the thought of calling him upon them. Might he see something in this stranger that she did not? There are consequences to beckoning her wardog and yet...she does, softly as if she might gauge his distance from them. @Gleipnir .

gleipnir struggles as he listens, ears cupped forth; the other male's accent changes the words until there are few he understands. young. wolves. and then — a, perhaps, small change in his tone that sounds like suspicion to the northerner. gleipnir bristles again, yearning to pace but instead he is still. it is a struggle too, but he tempers the desire to be mobile. on the battlefield during raids and territory disputes gleipnir was not trained for stealth. his enemies always knew he was coming and it struck fear into the core of their hearts.

it was that fear, that hesitation that the berserker counted on and exploited.

sakhmet responds to the male though as he focuses on keeping himself on tightening leash he does not exert energy in trying to translate what she says in return. and then ...then she calls for him. in that oh so soft way of hers and the chained breaks the bonds that had held him achingly still and closes the short distance, shrugging thru the tangled underbrush. he moves to sakhmet's side, posture protective of her and coiled tightly as jörmundur about to spring as glacial gaze refuses to budge from the unknown in the equation.

She answered quite readily, and said guard (ostensibly) made his presence known, coming up to stand by the girl's side. Pygmalion gave them both a diplomatic nod, happy that she seemed to be in capable paws. Good, then, he responded amiably. I'm glad ye've got him tae look after ye.

He wanted no trouble with whatever group this duo found themselves with. With a brief gesture of farewell, he retreated into the shadows, going the way he first came. Not a look back was given toward the girl; she would be just fine, or so he hoped. Right now, he just wanted to get home—home to Bhediya.

How odd it was for him to seem to drift so soon after reveal. Did he fear her wardog or were those feelings of concern only a creek within him? Drying up like it was summer or spring. She'd offer a displeased flick of an ear at his words, nothing more than that. She would not hear him out further or innitiate more if he truly wished to leave.

It was only when she felt safe that if might be just her and her wardog that she thought to find words fitting. Did not trust. Not like. She explained softly. It had all seemed odd and jumbled, mismatched with most interactions she had had in her short life. Thank you. She whispered soft and careful. It was up to Gleipnir if he wished to hunt the man down or let him roam free. Her feelings did not sway either way, try as she might to deem what is right. Yet nothing ever felt right.

the older male, cloaked in a pelage of fresh snowfall responds but 'good' — beyond 'him' — is the only word gleipnir can discern. good? what is good? he yearns to ask only he doesn't know how to ask it in so many words and anyway, the older male has no interest in sticking around. he departs, turning his back to them. gleipnir's eyes follows his progression; gaze only touching upon sakhmet when the stranger has disappeared from sight entirely. it strikes gleipnir as strange that the male should depart so quickly after he's made his presence known.

not trust. not like. gleipnir's hackles bristle at sakhmet's admittance; gaze fleeing to the shadows of trees that had swallowed the other male's form. ears pivot but detect no sounds of approach ...only of retreat. gleipnir is half tempted to follow him, to see where he goes but to do so would be to leave sakhmet and given the unease he detects in her tone, coupled by her admittance of how she felt about the stranger he is reluctant to do so.

we go. he suggests to her. he is ready to move on lest they be intercepted by any others.

There was small pleasure in him not leaving to trail after the stranger. Her head would nod in silent understanding. Where they went off to did not matter. She simply wished to not be here. Not anymore.