Sun Mote Copse You were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room.

The strongest scents came from the east, so that's wear she headed. It was tough to navigate through the forest without getting lost, and get lost she did - multiple times - before finding herself on a weird little ledge formed by ancient root growth and an abundance of sod. She came to that precipice and was hit in the face by a blast of warm summertime air, most of which smelled distinctly like wolf; there were other scents, most of which brought a prickling to her short coat, but the blast was overwhelming. Blackheart tried to do an about-face, as if someone were pulling at her leash to redirect her, and lost her footing.

Cue the tumble. Ears flapping, limbs flailing, tail tucked, she essentially rolled from the edge and landed in a heap at the bottom. It was a steep drop but not a long one; ferns cushioned her somewhat, but even so she ended up on her back with a mossy branch lodged against the small of it, blinking blearily up at a shaft of light full of spinning dust.

For a moment she forgot where she was, because that fall had been sort-of fun. The woman let the whirling of the world settle, laying in the mixed debris as she was, and tried to dislodge herself from this awkward belly-up position — except as she began to, something large lunged from the dark.

As he patrolled around the borders, his thoughts wandered to unusual depths in the wake of having become an adult. He ruminated on what this would mean over the next few years- that he was now old enough to find someone to settle down with, and with the next Spring, he would be old enough to have kids of his own. Some might've considered the general noisiness of his new siblings to be somewhat of a deterrant- but he loved them. He loved being an older brother, even though his legs were dappled with small punctures left by their needle-like teeth, and their high pitched shrieks left him with mild tinnitus.

So when something roughly wolf-sized and dark tumbled into his peripheral vision and landed with its long, slim legs in the air, he was startled from his deep thoughts, and instinctively went into defense mode. Her scent was unrecognizable- and as such, her presence was too close to the borders for comfort so when he recovered from his initial startle, he made something of a bluff charge toward her, emitting a gruff bark as he did so. He slid to a halt, his ruff bristled and tail curled over his haunches a few metres away from her, and stared down at her with a gaze that reflected his surprise and bewilderment the moment he clapped eyes on her.

She had an athletic form, accentuated by her smooth, flat coat. At first he thought she had a silverish tint to her coat- until he realized it was simply the glossy sheen of her fur reflecting the light that filtered through the branches above them. Her ears looked even softer than the rest of her, if that was even possible- and were long, thin and folded. He imagined her fur might feel somewhat like the fur on a rabbit's ears, or like the velveteen coats his siblings had been born with. Upon realizing that similarity, his expression softened slightly, though his posture remained tense. 

He exhaled sharply through his teeth and lowered his head to gaze at her warily- and realized that while this was not a wolf, she nevertheless bore a distinctly canine shape to her skull. He uttered a soft, low growl as he craned to look at her better, his movements small but jerky- a blatant indication that he wasn't sure yet how much of a threat she actually posed to him. He wasn't willing to risk his life and find out how dangerous she was by instigating a fight, but he was fairly certain he still had a job to do as a guardian, which meant keeping strangers out. Curiosity got the better of him, though- so he held back, and continued to stare at her, unabashedly.

With a wiggle of her hips she could work the branch out from under herself, easing it to her tailbone (which hurt) and then around her bum, then kicking at it with one orange paw. It was long enough to wedge against the ferns, and with a firmer kick there came a loud crack when the wood split. Following that Blackheart settled against the dirt and reached with her forelimbs in a big stretch. All of this transpired while the dark shape slunk closer to her; the ache in her back was a big distraction and so were the tiny birds fluttering invisible around her head, cartoon style. As that all wore away, Blackheart blinked up at the ledge that loomed in a haze over her — but soon enough it looked back at her.

The gleaming yellow eyes took shape and she blinked up at the face as it drew closer, unafraid, but only because she was too inexperienced with these wild creatures to know better. She was curious of the stranger too. By tucking her limbs against her belly and see-sawing forward, she could roll (albeit awkwardly) and then planted her paws against the dirt, her triangular ears flapping softly against her cheeks.

By all accounts the stranger looked like a possible friend. His tail was up, slanting over his hips in a manner that suggested friendlines by dog standards. His wide eyes were set in to an expressive, brackish face. The shafts of light caught upon his coat and made her vaguely aware of the autumnal quality of it: long, ragged, emberous. He looked very much like a shepherd - and maybe that eased her further from any natural fear response, for being even a little bit familiar.

But she knew better than to think he was like her. This place was no park, no hike, and none of these dogs had men with them. Her studying of his face and posture was deliberate, not realizing how her own dark stare might be offensive.

His dark lips quivered as she moved, at first showing something akin to submission when she pulled her paws to her chest. He was prepared to accept that as an apology, until she started to roll over onto her side. Each movement she made was met with a twitch of his lips and a hitch in his breath as he revealed the tips of his upper canines in a cautious warning- not too fast. Oddly, he didn't sense much (if any) fear, and no smirk of aggression creased the bridge of her muzzle. It was almost as though she was comfortable with her own visible curiosity and it made him wonder if he looked as strange to her as she did to him. Not that he found her strangeness to be offputting, though; she was, after all, undeniably canine and something about her was certainly handsome. 

For a few moments, he was too caught up in his own inquisitiveness to register the blatancy of her stare. His tongue flicked across his muzzle and he leaned forward slightly, his legs straining as he stretched, so he could better analyze her scent but simply found himself puzzled. She was, as a species, a complete novelty to him- and he could conclude nothing from his observations aside from the fact that she was female and canine. He knew felines were a category that included bobcats and cougars, and that the canine family included wolves and coyotes...Things like weasels and raccoons were vaguely somewhere in between. But this unique and startlingly beautiful rarity didn't meet the description of anything he'd ever heard of before. 

He'd begun to frown in concentration, perplexed by the realization that his knowledge of other species was incomplete. It was one thing to strike out across the ocean toward an island that had already been found- but another thing altogether to stumble across a paradise not yet marked on the map. She did not fit the description of any of the animals he'd heard of but had not yet seen, such as the elusive and dangerous wolverine, so he was left wallowing in confusion. He chuffed softly- more for a reaction than anything- and flicked his ears forward. His posture remained tense, as though spellbound by her uniqueness.

They stared at one another for a while, it felt like. Perplexed. He said nothing to her, and so Blackheart wondered if he truly was more of a dog than anything; her admittedly infrequent visits to local parks and such places with her man had given her very limited exposure to other dogs, and they rarely spoke to her. Using this as a reference point, she could only assume this was another lost creature, like herself. Except he seemed to comfortable here. He smelled of pinewood and silt, sunlight, dust, something sweeter too, which she could not place.

As he drew closer and sniffed the air she did the same - purposeful with every movement but guarded too, in case he did not appreciate her blocky face so close to his tapered snout. His whiskers trembled; Blackheart licked her lips and the tip of her tongue nearly touched his snout. She could see the once-torn flesh of his scars, now healed, and traced them with a flick of her eyes, then carefully probed at his cheek fur for more clues. There wasn't much. Why was he standing there so stiffly? His tail was up, his wild coat puffed, so she anticipated a play-bow, but nothing like that came.

Blackheart cleared her throat with a tiny cough, watching as the stranger's ears pivoted. Small ears, she noted. Smaller than a shepherd's, and triangular. Uhm, sorry for... Dropping in. Her voice didn't have the same tremble as when she'd first found herself with company, when the pale agouti had found her before; there was a strength to her voice this time, a deep masculine timbre. The corners of her mouth twitched but she did not smile, merely continued to watch him. Perhaps he was so intrigued because she had come tumbling out of nowhere - and that was fair.

Something in his gut clenched when she spoke- it was an odd feeling, a sensation he wasn't used to, and came ushered by a rush of energy. Other animals wouldn't talk to him- coyotes were to be chased out, and foxes never bothered to give him the time of day, and no other creature had actually conversed with him...So surely, he thought, she had to be somehow, maybe just a little bit, wolf. He was pleased- and it showed in the tip of his tail, which began to wave back and forth over his haunches though he was very much unaware of the fact that it had begun to do so. 

She said something that was perhaps an apology- but he heard the pun, and waited a moment or two, to check to see just how serious she was- before he smiled. Her features were deadpan, and the soft alto of her voice was fairly serious, but he thought that perhaps she was just waiting for him to crack first...And he had. He felt some impulse begging him to forgive her immediately, and to invite her into their midst...But he knew that he really ought not treat trespassers with instant forgiveness, otherwise they'd find themselves having to deal with trespassers all the time. Still...He couldn't be angry with her. He wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling- but it was new, and it felt nice, and it made him want to be nice to her. 

"I'm Bronco," He said, before he realized that he hadn't really offered her forgiveness, or acknowledged her apology at all. He smiled bashfully. "An' it's OK, I'm sure it was an accident. You're not hurt, are you?" He asked, moving forward slightly, so he could look her over. He couldn't take his eyes off of her- and he was tempted so immensely to reach out and touch her- just to see if she really was as soft and glossy as she looked.

She did not find his name odd when he offered it, but did quirk her head slightly as the voice hit her ears. Maybe because the curl blocked the deep quality, or maybe it was because he sounded so familiar and so like her despite being so antithetical to what she was used to. The few dogs she'd met in her previous life had been more obnoxious than him, and the names their masters called at them were dissonant (Buddy was a common one, Shadow another, or Precious in the case of one ugly wool-covered poodle). His name suited him though, she thought. Whatever a bronco was, whatever its significance, it somehow fit him perfectly. The concern he showed her was welcome, too.

I am alright, she murmurs as she tries to stand up. Her chest rises first, then she un-tucks her rear legs from where they've tangled in the ferns. Her tail - naturally long and coarsely furred - whips at them once or twice. The sunlight that pierces the canopy slants across the pair of them in thick beams of gold, catching on the red of her brow, giving the cool darkness of her fur a warm luster. Blackheart tries to shake off what little bits and pieces are still stuck against her fur, most of which look like small brown shells of vellum which were once tiny seed pods; a bramble or two are tucked against one armpit. Tiny red fronds of dead pine debris stuck to her haunches with a little sap.

She feels a twinge in her lower back as she shakes. A wave of something like vertigo sweeps through her - maybe she was concussed a little bit? It faded a moment later, but the disorientation makes her take a step sideways to brace herself, and she sways a little bit closer to him. Headrush - ugh, sorry, I... Not a nice feeling. She ducks her head and hopes it will steady her, and it does. It also gives her the appearance of deference in the face of this wild creature. It doesn't occur to Blackheart that she might be out-of-place here, or that she might offend with the slightest variation of her own posture, not that a lowered head would be rude by wolf standards.

Every movement she made was captured with rapt attention, and when she stumbled toward him, Bronco closed the distance- leaving only a hair's breadth between the two of them. Generally, he wouldn't have considered getting so close to a stranger- especially not one who was so unique- but perhaps it was the novelty of the whole experience that led him to feel differently about this situation. Her bowed head pulled at his heartstrings, and lured him to break the distance between them, and touch his nose to her muzzle. His movement was gentle, considerate- like a whisper. He felt like she was apologizing, and he'd forgiven her already. 

"It's alright. I'm glad you're OK," He murmured quietly, as he pulled back, though he felt something of a magnetism that compelled him to stay close to her. "I should...Take you back to the borders, though," He admitted reluctantly. The friendly side of him wanted to tell her, then, that she should join the pack- but he also knew, or assumed, that she wasn't a wolf...And that they didn't take in creatures who were not wolves. He simply assumed that she knew about pack customs, and that it might be dangerous for her to be caught in their midst...Though perhaps he shouldn't have leapt to that conclusion. Her behavior, thus far, indicated that she felt no fear and as such, potentially had no idea of the fact that she was trespassing. "If you'll let me?" He asked.

He moved in close - very close. She felt the tremble of his whiskers. She could taste his breath, feel it on her skin. There was a brief tremble down her spine, a sort-of animal thrill, but she discounted it as further agitation from her fall. Her back twinged a little bit; it would bruise over the course of a few hours thanks to the branches she had landed on, that was all.

When he mentioned something about borders she wasn't sure what he meant. Was it the ledge she had been standing on? Maybe a particular line of trees..? Her brow creased, made more emphatic because of the pumpkin orange marks there. If you'll let me? He asked. Not knowing how to respond, Blackheart nodded her long face. She was not concerned with where he might lead her - she trusted him. There was no reason not to.

Even after taking a few strides in pursuit of him, Blackheart slowed and at the last moment stopped. She blinked at the back of his head, the autumnal amalgamation of his coat as the sun scythed through the trees to vivify it. There, she tilts her head and opens her mouth, wanting to ask something impulsive: What if I want to stay? But, she shuts her mouth a beat later, and begrudgingly resumes her pace.

He sensed disappointment- but he would insist, still, that he take her back to the borders, and led the way knowing that if the wrong wolf showed up, they might act with hostility. She would be safer once she was no longer within their borders, and even though he would vouch for her, he doubted very much that his mother would allow a creature she did not know or recognize to pass their markings. He knew that his mother would hunt down and kill other predators like coyotes or foxes if they came even remotely near the borders- so he assumed she would not treat his new companion any different. 

He was silent as he moved, and some of his anxiety might have shown in how he checked back on her frequently, making sure she was still with him- and keeping his senses sharp should he hear, see or smell his mother anywhere nearby. He moved at a swift walk, having not noticed that she'd stopped, but when he looked back again, she was still following him. His nose led him to the area with the freshest markings, which he sniffed and reinforced, before he finally heaved a small sigh and turned to face her. "There." He huffed softly. "It's just...Safer if we're outside the borders. Some of the wolves in my pack aren't too keen on strangers," He said, grimacing a little.

It was nice to walk with him, for what that was worth. It was a short foray through the woods that she would remember for a while as she savored his company, although at the time of their wandering Blackheart did not realize how important their presence would be for her. In the next few weeks she'd find herself stranded among these trees, unable to find her way anywhere. The sense of comradrie she'd feel would sour in to resentment to some degree as her lonliness deepend.

For now, she followed her new friend. His frequent glances back made her giddy. She enjoyed the flash of his eyes in the sparse sunlight, the autumnal glow of his brackish fur, and watching him move so fluidly along. When they came to a stop Blackheart was a bit sad; it felt like they were on an adventure but it did not last long.

Some of the wolves in my pack aren't too keen on strangers, he explained. Blackheart was busy glancing back the way they'd come and missed the expression on his face, and when she returned to looking at him, her chin tucked slightly, she looked doe-eyed and sad, too. That's alright, she murmurs in her deep voice. Maybe not every wild dog was accepting but she was fortunate enough to have met at least one.

Without saying another word, she began to sulk through the trees. Her long-limbed stride helped her to pick her way without much issue, and when she looked back to see if he was following her, he was gone.

He'd thought they might be able to spend some time together, now that she was safely back at the borders- but with a sullen sigh, she turned and began to walk away. He watched her for a moment, and considered calling after her. Perhaps she simply didn't know that she wasn't permitted within the borders, but that they could safely get to know one another once she was outside the pack's territory...But then again...Would she ever be safe anywhere close to where his mother lived? 

He contemplated that thought for a moment, and felt his heart ache in a way that he'd not experienced before. He knew he should let her go- and maybe he should have even chased her off, so that she might not come back and risk her life against his mother's discrimination and ire. Instead, he turned, and trotted off, feeling a new kind of disappointment and sadness as he left her out of sight.