Ravensblood Forest Somewhere New

Setting: Afternoon — 1546. 70 degrees, clear skies, humid.
Set in the Saints Den. 

Official thread to announce the Saints migration to Redsand Canyon in the Sunspire Mountains. This is only to verbally announce it to the team. A separate thread will be announced of their physical movement. Forward dated to 07/07/20.

@Nemisis, @Derg, @Finley Grebe

After some careful thought and contemplation, Donovan decides that, while Ravensblood Forest is alright, he is looking to go elsewhere and bring his newfound family along with him. He remembers when his adventures and curious mind took him southeast of these wild lands. Passing through the Sunspire Mountains, he remembers a beautiful place shrouded by the tall peaks of mountains — a protective barrier. A place not of red sap, but of red sands and clear waters. Oddly shaped rocks painted red and orange in the most unusual patterns. The place was beautiful and now he knows, that is the place he wants his pack to grow. That is the place he wants his pack to thrive in. Even then, considering the interactions with the northern coast pack, this wolves don’t seem to have the Saints staying in their plans. Until their numbers are up, they’re not safe here.

So coming to his final conclusion, his maw goes skyward and releases a howl, calling for his pack.

He was just returning to the dens with a rabbit.
He needed to keep active, and Donovan and his pack had given him a new breath of life.
Yeah, he was still depressed, but how could he not be?

He was trying to adjust to life here.
It was good here. Quiet. A breath of the ocean just reached them here, and the forest was exquisitely creepy. He liked the shade and the warmth in the dens.
Alas, Donovan called for them all and he picked up the pace to get there in a timely manner.

Derg set the rabbit down, nosing it towards Donovan, and waited with him for the rest of the pack.

gonna assume Fin hasn’t met Nem yet to keep this thread rollin’; hope that’s okay, Tori!

It’d been an oddly peaceful few days since Finley’s last encounter in Ravensblood. Her wound from her last spar with Donovan had scabbed over, and though soreness had set in that night, interest had kept her light on her feet when meeting Derg. But after hearing of his hidden depths, Finley was reluctant to throw herself at her “differently-conditioned” packmate, at least on her lonesome. Besides, with Nemisis being Donovan’s partner, Finley figured they’d cross paths sooner or later.

The summoning howl that humid afternoon was fateful. Finley had been standing in a stream, when she heard it, and something about the tone told her this was different—not a call to her for a spar, but to the whole pack. Her first pack meeting! Screw these fish. With a childish glee she turned tail and bounded towards the source of the call.

Donovan waited within the stone arches forming the Saints Den, as did Derg, with a rabbit offering. Oh. Was a fresh kill mandatory for such gatherings? Finley made a mental note to provide something herself next time, and sat back with a small nod of greeting to Donovan and Derg. Neither seemed posed for a fight. What was this about?

Donovan’s stands tall, awaiting the small group of wolves he’s accumulated throughout his time here in the wilds. The first to arrive is the tawny male by the name of Derg. He pads up with a hat in his maw, blood covers it and darkens it’s pelt as it sits clutched in his jaws. He sets it down and nudges it closer to Donovan and his eyes meet Derg’s own in a silent thank you. Only to get distracted by another form approaching — the ever stoic and respectful Finley. 

Her entry is simple and she greets them both with a solid nod. Donovan does the same back. “We’ll wait for Nemisis.” He hums quietly. 

But it seems she never comes. A fair few minutes pass and she still doesn’t show her face at his call. Perhaps he’ll just inform her later. For now, he looks to both of them. His gaze isn’t too intense but it holds weariness. “We must move from this forest. Our relationship with the wolves north of us isn’t good and with our small numbers we cannot risk an attack. You need to get sleep tonight, we’re leaving early tomorrow. We’ll eat whatever we have in the cache and flee the forest afterwards; heading towards the mountains.” 

With his final breath he looks between the two. “Any questions? If not, disperse and prepare for tomorrow’s journey.” 

Of course, she didn't come.
Probably pissing on someone's parade.

Alas, that was for her and Donovan to solve between themselves.
He already knew what was coming. He was there, and the message from them was clear.
They were to be gone.

He was surprised he admitted to fleeing. He thought of Donovan as proud, though he wasn't very word picky, so it didn't bother him much.
Derg nodded, quiet and pensive.
They'd be fine, and come out of it just dandy.

Derg stood from where he waited, and took the initiative to start goring himself.
It may be a while before they eat again.

Of the Saints’ four members, three arrived, even after Donovan’s generous wait time. Was she sleeping? in the middle of the afternoon? Odd. But Finley made little of it.

And then fell the announcement. Weary. Donovan sounded weary, and Derg only looked slightly surprised; had he known? Did Nemisis? So this was only news to Finley, and it compelled her to keep a straight face—despite the slightest drop of disappointment. What kind of wolves threatened a not-even-pack composed half of its leadership? Either they were irrational as Nemisis’ birthplace or Donovan minced his words.

Regardless, Donovan’s choice was clear, and his say was final. An obvious decision. “Flee” was not the strongest word choice, but anything else would have been a blatant lie. With his final declaration, Derg dove into his apparently-not-an-offering, and Finley dipped her head. Unless called back, she would leave without having said a word.

The ramifications of Donovan’s words, here and beyond, would settle in later. (Much, much later.) For now, Finley would return for one last fish.

Donovan nods to them both. He too seems to give few words on the subject. Though he does watch Derg dig into the rabbit be brought only moments before and Finley simply acknowledges what he’s said and is off on her own accord once more.

He wishes he could stay and have a few bites with the tawny male yet his nerves are already grated due to their situation and the fact that Nemisis decides not to show her face to their meeting. He’s off to go track her down — this information is important after all.

So he gives Derg a slight tough to the shoulder with his own leathery nose. “I would join you but I must find Nemisis.” He basically growls out her name as he begins pawing off. “See you later, peaches.” He hums with a signature wink. With that he’s off.