Moonspear Child of Dust

All welcome <3

If there was nothing else that Bronco took away from the entire experience- and that was of course, completely unlikely- he would in the very least gain some leg muscles. While the borders were located much lower in altitude, traipsing to and from the interior of the pack meant going up and down the mountainside which he found to be much trickier than he'd expected. His lungs weren't used to the thin air, and his balance had never been tested as it was now, with both the slope and the occasionally loose footing. But he would persevere, regardless, and at the end of his patrol- and he'd only done a few thus far- he felt good about the progress he was making. 

There was something enchanting about looking up at the night sky, though, even just from the borders. On the clear slope, his view of the starry sky was open and clear, with the peak constantly at his left flank as he made his way around the borders. Phox probably would've loved to see what the stars looked like from here, he thought, knowing how much his step-father/father-in-law (Bronco still lacks a rudimentary knowledge of family ties) enjoyed stargazing. He felt small and exposed on the slope as he made his way along the borders, but at the same time, he felt his soul replenished, knowing that he was finally doing something on his own.

Word had traveled well that the mountain had gained a few new faces, though it was inevitable that Antares would want to find out more for himself. Especially when he scented one of them making rounds across the borderlands. Already, too, which to someone else who made their share of rounds, it certainly sparked some interest. It gave him a good heading on just where to find at least one of them too. An opportunist, and interested enough in learning more, he skimmed a confident route through the dark after the freshest trail to lead him to the male of the younger pair.

Slowing up only once he had eyes on him, a sturdy-looking fellow, the yearling Ostrega stepped forth quietly--pinning an eager look upon the other, unabashed as he glanced him over, even in the moonlight. Busy? he asked, vaguely enough.

Bronco probably didn't realize it, but part of feeling energized and refreshed came from putting his brain to work with a whole new palette of wolf scents. He wasn't simply tailing along behind one of his family members anymore, but now had to differentiate between a whole new list of wolf scents, so that he'd know which ones were his fellow guardians, or ones who crossed the borders on hunts or scouting missions. There were few he could put a name to- just Desdemona, Hydra and Osiris- bue he knew there would be more he'd meet soon enough. 

It was a relief, then, when he caught the fresh scent of someone, one who'se markings were present along the borders and he slowed his pace allowing the other to catch up with him. He turned and greeted the male with deference, a low, slwoly swinging tail and a respectful bob of his head. Nevertheless, his eyes glinted as he realized that this fellow- this male both a packmate and stranger- was almost 100% one of Hydra's yearlings. He had to be; there was something about the proud shape of his muzzle too, that was shared with the noble Osiris, hinting at their brotherhood. Given the fact that Bronco already liked both of those wolves, he was tempted to pass early judgement on to this fellow as well, and gave him a friendly smile. 

"Keeping busy, yes," He said, to assure his dark-pelted companion that he was putting himself to work. For a second, he thought the dark male's hackles were raised- but decided quickly thereafter that....Perhaps that was just the way his fur was, so he was reassured, slightly, by the relaxed vibe he was getting. "But I'd love company. My name's Bronco, and I'm one of the Firebirds sent over to do some tradesmanship training here," He said, inviting the male to walk with him with a gesture of his muzzle.

Antares knew well what it looked like. A discerning eye wouldn't miss the similarities between him and his family--colored so very like his mother, and while his personal bearing was a bit different, it still fell in line with the mold the other Ostregas made. Clearly, cut from the same cloth and testament to his line as the mountain made them, for any of those who might be familiar.

First after the mindful deference he received, he replied with a quiet nod, then turned his ears up to listen while he observed. The willingness for company (a role which he could provide, said a knowing hint of a smirk), a name, the Firebirds, training--all solid confirmation to the trickles of facts he gleaned from his parents, and he appreciated the details in full. Antares slid a length or so closer, still subtly measuring the other yearling in his earthen shades, with his molten eyes. The scars on his muzzle, too. Now it all could match to a name, at the very least.

I'm Antares, he said, gently canting his head. How much else needed said? The Ostrega stepped forth then beside him, taking the invitation to walk on. Born here, as you may have guessed, he matched. So what do you train for? he asked, his suspicions already leaning in one way, but Bronco seemed open enough to answer him without qualm.

For just a moment as he paused, he forgot that he'd invited Antares to walk with him, and his ears pricked forward as the distance between the two was closed. There was a purpose to his stride that made Bronco flush with envy and admiration...And then he remembered that he'd invited Antares on a patrol with him, not that he was just...Coming closer because he wanted to, and it made him feel a little bit confused, but silly. There was something about his name that sounded familiar- it was likely something Phox had spoken once or twice before, when speaking about constellations and stars...But Bronco was a poor student, so he couldn't directly recall which constellation Antares belonged to. 

He seemed friendly enough, though, and Bronco nodded, with a smile, at his statement. His assumption, then, was likely correct- that this other yearling was another of Hydra's heirs, and that he was Orisis' brother. He was happy to continue their conversation, a a means of getting to know his new packmates, while also sniffing about, and reinforcing markings along the borders. 

Though he thought the answer was pretty obvious, Bronco wasn't habitually sarcastic and did not snip back with any wry retort, like he might have with Towhee, Figment or Fennec...So he simply supplied a casual, kindly answer. "Working on my guardian mastery," He said, stopping to mark a tree, "An' trapper specialty...Mastery, if I can get it while I'm here, I guess," He said, pausing to reflect on the fact that he may have time to do both, depending on how long he and Meerkat lived in Moonspear. "My little sister, Meerkat, is here too- dunno if you met her yet, but she's here to be an Ambassador," He said. He cast a glance toward his lean packmate, ears flicking forward in interest. "What about you?" He asked, though he figured Antares might be working toward the same trades as he.

The paths at paw for him were second nature, and he walked on comfortably. He had learned early of their nuance, and day or night, he had done well to know them so well, especially down here on the borderlands where he knew his meanderings would have great worth. There were trails up further that he had only begun to meet--the ones only accessible to the brave, and in the warmest months, but for the newcomer to the slopes, those were probably best saved for another day when they might be a bit more relevant. For now, he was very content to cover ground here, on the lookout.

Anyway, a guardian. He supposed it suited Bronco well, based on looks, and it explained his apparent willingness to make his rounds so soon. Trapper, too, had its merits but it was Antares' nature to find a bit more interest in the former. He joined the hunts and chased his own small quarry, but his own personal leanings went towards the first. I have not met her, not yet, he replied with a small shake of his head to say so, noting Meerkat the ambassador likely for later. Pieces fell easily into place then with that confirmation that she was his sister. If they were here to tighten the bounds between the packs, an ambassador made sense--and sending a guardian loyal to her by blood secured it further, for their sake above all. Not a stupid move, in his view. I train with my mother, mostly. Mercenary dealings... like many of my blood, she tells me. Antares sniffed halfheartedly at the dirt, but it checked out, so he moved on with a look over his shoulder to his companion. I like the offense most, but practice it all so far, he said. The yearling might groom into a fine warrior one day, though a guardian was not out of reach given his business on the patrols like now. He also really liked the thought behind it all, how it was more than just throwing teeth around since he had learned Hydra valued tactics, and he valued a busied mind too.

As for what else? He thought to mention his fledgling interests in roaming and ranging, but these were not yet explored in depth. Not open enough to gush about such, he instead thought of a few other pieces that may be worth hearing for Bronco. Dirge, my father, he is a hunter as well. My brother Osiris too, he noted, if perhaps that might be useful to his training in trapping and such to know who here did the duties already.

With reference to his sister, he was drawn to laugh and nod. "Oh, you will," he chuffed, "She's as friendly as they come." He confirmed, knowing that while he was out patrolling his little sister was likely perusing the mountainside, meeting their packmates and exploring the inner territories. He reveled in hearing her stories at the day's end, and was pleased to know that at least this time, he'd have something interesting to tell her, too. That she had another son of Hydra to meet, and that he seemed to be down-to-earth, just like his brother. 

Antares, it seemed, would follow more closely in his mother's footsteps, straying toward the warrior specialty, he supposed, more than simply being a guardian. And his eyes roved over the muscled shoulders of the male as he prowled, to his sturdy legs and along to his brawny hips- and Bronco found himself wondering just how he might match up against Antares in a spar. He'd be interested too to see how Hydra ran her training, and what her results were, though he suspected that her teachings would most prominently be shown through her son and pupil, who would no doubt push himself to be exemplary, under her keen gaze. 

"I think it's good to learn a bit of everything within the mercenary trade," He said. "I'd be a useless guardian if I didn't know how to defend myself, or how to properly spar. At the end of the day, if you're out on patrol on your own and some mouth-breathing dickhead shows up intent on trespassing and stealing food, you don't always have time to call for backup." He said. "Long story short...If you ever wanna spar, hit me up." He tried to pass the invitation off as casually as possible, so he made the suggestion with an off-handed shrug, and a relaxed smile and side-eye, to gauge his reaction. 

This wasn't the first time he'd heard mention of Dirge, and kept the name tucked away in his mind for their when he crossed paths with the male. He didn't recall the name being mentioned by either Towhee or Niamh, but obviously he was important to Hydra. The sound of Osiris' name being spoken caused his ears to perk, and his expression to brighten from his usual, patrolling deadpan. "Oh yeah, I met him when I joined the pack," He said, his tone conveying his positivity. "Be nice to do a pack hunt here, sometime," He said. "S'pose you guys'd mostly hunt like mountain goats or sheep or whatever they are, hey?" He asked.

About Meerkat, he could have no doubts then. If she were the friendly sort, it was perhaps inevitable their paths cross. Then again, he tended more towards the elusive, given the day.. but summer had brought him more into the open than before. There was a lot happening, a lot to keep up with, and he explored his possibilities as time spanned. Then, listening on, he rumbled a soft hm of agreement, and let the tips of a smirk curl onto him. I feel the same, he replied, happy to hear such, and an offer like that. Hydra had instilled on him the want to be well-rounded, and she was not alone in her trainings either. The whole of the family upheld this, and he believed they had the experience to know best. Seemed like the Firebirds had provided him with a similar mindset, or he was just keen enough to come to a logical conclusion on his own. Either way, Antares was good with that, definitely.

I will, he added, tail flicking thoughtfully as he settled warmly on the prospect of a new sparring partner when he had mainly been waiting for his siblings to grow enough to fight back properly--because he was invested in their skills too, and he had his eyes especially on Mira. Bronco, however, brought a whole new interest to the idea and the possibilities it offered. For a second, he schemed quietly. Would the earthy yearling take kindly to a surprise ambush for one...? Not wanting to allude to too much too soon, he went headlong for the next topic.

At least he knew of Osiris already.. which honestly, did not surprise him any. Yes, it would.. I'm sure there would be enough willing for one, he reasoned. Enough to bring something sizable down, if luck was with them. Together they were at least two, and he was pretty sure Osiris wouldn't balk. Likely Atlas too, and his uncle Jarilo.. and that was just in his immediate family-circle. Desdemona would probably add some speed, based on her looks... Maybe Moriko too. But yeah, sometimes.. though the goats tend to stay up very high, he supplied; he personally could not boast much experience in hunting them. There are some valleys lower though you can sometimes catch them visiting. Bighorn sheep and mule deer seem to roam a little lower than that, and of course the usual white-tailed sorts in the lowland woods, he recounted, thinking that covered the basics of the big, noteworthy game around here.

The thought of hunting something that would feed several wolves made Bronco salivate, so he licked his lips in order to keep himself from full-on drooling as the roved along. Goats seemed to be a challenge- and he paused in his tracks as Antares filled him in on the other prey, and then mentioned something about sheep. Having seen only one of the two before, he wasn't exactly sure what the difference was- so he took a moment to unashamedly admit his ignorance with a guilty grin.

"You'll hafta forgive me for soundin' like an idiot," He began, as he started walking again. "But what's the difference, between the mountain goats and bighorn sheep? I seen like...Either it was goats or sheep once before, an' it had horns that curled back and around its ears- the male did- an' I dunno if that was a sheep or a goat. I'm assuming it was a bighorn sheep, considerin' the name." He said. "Tasted good though," He concluded with a wink. He'd hunted it on the low slopes of the mountain ranges across the river from the Copse, but hadn't climbed enough up in those mountains to have ever spotted a mountain goat, with its distinctive shaggy, white pelt, and short, spiked horns.

Talk of big prey seemed to have done something to Bronco, but Antares was glad to have helped further motivate in this regard. He'd benefit too, most likely, and maybe he could make the mention to his brother to gauge his thoughts on it. Of course, he didn't know what their upcoming weather was about to be like, so for now, it was very easy to be hopeful.

Sounds like bighorn, he confirmed smoothly, though this was only based on the picture Bronco painted him secondhand. He could have used to toss a disclaimer of probably in there, but he didn't. They were tasty, though--meatier than a deer, and a satisfying thing to pursue. The goats are elusive and a difficult hunt, so I've heard--I've never got to go after one, but my uncle showed me them once from faraway when they were grazing in a high plateau at the beginning of spring, he tried to recall what else there was to note. Jarilo had said his mom--Antares' grandmother--had liked to hunt them for special occasions, despite the danger posed to flush them into a reachable space. Thin, straighter horns too and lighter-colored thicker coats, while the bighorn have fur about like a deer's--almost, maybe a bit denser.. he detailed out, with a thoughtful look on himself. Sometimes we hunt in the glen too--Firefly Glen, especially in winter, he added, gesturing off the slopes in that general direction.

Bronco's ears flicked forward in interest, though walking side-by-side with Antares meant that he'd often keep one turned toward his packmate as he explained what mountain goats were like. The image that Bronco got in his head would've been humerous to see, to say the least, had he been able to magically mait it manifest before them- He got the shaggy coat right, but where his mind-image went wrong was with the horns, which ended up making the goat look like it had two TV antennas at the top of its head. It was probably a good thing Antares couldn't read Bronco's mind, because Bronco found his mental image quite amusing. 

Antares mentioned a glen, and Bronco nodded. Glens would mean deer, maybe a moose or elk should they pass through- and those were all fine and dandy, but Bronco had the tendency to be like a dog with a bone and fixate on one thing. So he made one more comment with regard to the mountain goats. "Well, we should try an' make that a goal. Hunt down a mountain goat, sometime after this rain is over, but before the snow flies," He said. He had no idea that mountain goats could basically walk straight up a sheer cliff, or go bounding down the side of one without losing its balance and tumbling to death- but that would be a realization for another day. 

"Hmm," He mused, now considering the glen. "Wonder if, with all this rain, there'd be any swamp donkeys around. They like marshy, swampy places, and just about everywhere's gotta be swampy by now," He said- not bothering to explain that swamp donkey was just another term for "moose."

Antares couldn't argue there. After the rains, but before the snow. He sincerely hoped the rains would cease well before that, and fought against the glowering look to the heavy gray skies he almost lifted. Instead: Agreed, he confirmed, and stowed the notion for later; something to pass by his brothers to get them on the idea, and perhaps his father too--to give their hunt an experienced edge, possibly. Hopefully the rain won't go too much longer, he mentioned, though he had no idea what to expect.

As he listened on, he was caught up by the title of.. a something. Given, he didn't spend a lot of time around swampy places considering the heights of his home, and this was the first time he had known such considerable rainfall as well. He at least knew what a swamp was but that was as far as it went. Alright my turn--what is a swamp donkey? he asked with a head-tilted look, never before faced with the term, let alone applied to something swamp-dwelling to hunt--presumably, given the train of the conversation anyway.

Bronco's eyes twinkled and Antares' expression changed, lightening up a bit, and he posed another question- this guy seemed to be full of them. But Bronco was happy that at least this one would have a somewhat unexpected answer- even moreso given Bronco's maturity level. 

"Donkeys. They live in a swamp, but they're not like...Regular donkeys," He said, pausing to mark a tree when he realized that he was just about out of urine, so he scuffed come of the earth with his paws instead, and nuzzled his cheeks against the tree's bark- other methods of leaving behind a scent mark. "They're bigger'n an elk, an' got way bigger antlers too, hunch-y shoulders, very poor eyesight, and not a trace of a brain inside their giant heads," He said, before he realized Antares had probably figured it out. "S'a moose, man. Just another name for a moose," He chuckled.

Even a donkey wasn't well within his vocabulary, and he swiftly went through his mental catalogues--had his mother mentioned one before? Father.. hadn't, right? Although maybe.. Jarilo--he was a naturalist, he probably knew what a donkey was but he didn't recall? Antares wasn't pinging anything on that rapid-fire skim he made of it, so his ears were appropriately splayed, though expression keen for the answer.

The description gave him something else to chew on, piecing together a massive creature, head held low beneath the weight of its giant, gnarled adornments and ohhhh he realized what this was starting to look like. I see, he said, as the final confirmation came. I have never heard them called that, he smirked, beneath a small snicker. Then he stopped to take a quick little pee of his own, being stingy enough to save some for later, in case of major need of course. Who else calls them swamp donkeys? Though.. I cannot say I have a lot to do with swamps from up here. Usually it's not my stomping grounds, he said. Did you get to hunt them often with the Firebirds? he asked, gauging for experience on the matter there.

Bronco chuckled, pleased that he'd stumped Antares, who in the end, didn't seem to have much experience with the creature at all...And, given where he lived, it made sense- which made Bronco feel a bit dumb for having spoken with such familiarity about an animal that wouldn't normally live in the high reaches of a mountain. They tended to- like the nickname implied- live in boggy, swamp-like areas with dense, coniferous forests. Those weren't exactly the sort of things you'd find at such a high altitude. 

"I guess, right?" He said, with an apologetic grin. Him blabbering on about moose would've had the same effect if Antares had had jokes about the mountain goats. "Yeah, they like swamps and bogs- I've hunted a couple, but they're pretty hard to hunt, right up there with elk," He said, figuring that Antares would at least have some familiarity with the herd animal that did breach the gap between the lowlands and the highlands. "We generally just hunt deer as a pack. A lot less risk that way; moose or an elk'll kill ya either with its feet or with its antlers," He said. "They just like....lower their head, an' GUT YA!" He exclaimed, having quietly attempted to meander a bit closer to Antares- and without warning, he ducked his head down and made an attempt to swing it under Antares' ribcage, and jab upward quickly, hoping he'd catch the other yearling off guard enough so that he could give him a good head-butt to the ribs.

Of course they were hard to hunt. This information came easily understandable, now that he had hurdled the name itself. He had seen the bones, followed the tracks of one once even, but they weren't a frequent menu item on his list. Nothing he had set his sights on in earnest in his whole first year; his strengths shown in other areas, not exactly the hunt for the biggest, best targets anyway. Not from here, anyway. But, maybe it was something to pursue.. if given the perfect storm of opportunity.

He did know about hunting deer, so inwardly was thankful for that similarity of standpoints. They were frequent sorts around here and just beyond and he usually had someone or two or three around to join up for one of those hunts. But, before his thoughts completed, he was aware of how close and--hey! He caught much of the headbutt, but still sprung awkwardly up and aside as soon as he realized what was going on suddenly for a live demonstration. Recoiling, or maybe regrouping, he growled back playfully one he regained a neater stride. He would remember that.. for he did intend to take up his offer for future spars--and was glad to have found company about like his.

Anyway, his train of thought was more keen to food, like a proper growing boy. But elk are awfully tasty fresh.. he sighed afterward. Maybe there could be a time and a place for a challenge like that.

He'd expected- withouth a lick of logic considering Antares' size- for his opponent to be lighter, and was surprised when he headbutted his friend's underside but wasn't able to just flip himover with the gesture, the same way he might have been able to had he done the maneuver on some of the smaller yearlings he'd grown up with. Antares recovered quickly and Bronco side-stepped neatly to avoid a retaliation which was indeed merited- but it never came. He assumed, then, that Antares would be the type to wait, bide his time, and take his revenge when Bronco was least expecting it. 

He laughed lightly, and nodded. "They are. There's gotta be some around here, in the foothills, yeah?" He asked. He knew he'd seen them in the glen where they tended to spend their summers, raising their calves, but from what he knew, they migrated to higher ground in the winter- no doubt in a bid to escape the hungry wolves who would otherwise run them down in the thick snow.

He wouldn't give away too much, too soon--though it was mighty tempting to bid for more, even if only a playfully quick nip back.  Antares did not often find new challengers like this so maybe, something in him said to savor it. He let it ride with a soft snicker to Bronco's laugh.. for now, his tail swirling slow.

Oh yeah, they're around, he replied easily on about their elks. Most days. Rather, whenever he really bothered to look. He had distant, unclear memories of leaner times before he had really known enough about anything but he had been young, and the pack able to carry the weight of one litter among themselves--on well established slopes. Lots of deer here, too. Especially this summer.. he had observed along the way. They could relate on that being the staple, too.

With that said, he was content to focus on the duty for a bit before he got too distracted by the lure of a hunt. It was something good to look forward to for later, though, but he didn't know how comfortable with silence Bronco would be, so let him set the pace; Antares was good to just rove for a while, always.

OK if we wrap this up?

"Hmm," Bronco mued thoughtfully, wondering when might be a good time to instigate a pack hunt. He supposed the opportunity would arise whenever a herd of deer or elk made themselves available, or when the wolves decided to go out en masse in search of them. Given the situation with the packs to the East of their homeland, it was likely best for them to simply stay where they were and allow their prey to come to them, rather than putting themselves at risk against their distant foes. 

He would continue quietly alongside his comrade, marking and reinforcing the borders with relaxed silence between them breached only when an idea for a conversation came naturally to them. As far as blending in with his packmates went, Bronco felt that his life on the mountain had gotten off to a good start, and that he could easily see himself settling in amongst the kindly mountain wolves without issue.

No hesitation, Antares went on for the rest of their guard--content with the rhythm that had settled between them, and with the future hope their chat had begun to really dig in with. All in all, he was left in good spirits, of easy first impressions, and no complaints. Perhaps not too bad for an introductory encounter. Maybe Bronco knew the mountain better now because of him, but really, for as new at it as he was, he seemed game to fit right on in like it was nothing.

The dark yearling enjoyed the company while it was his.

definitely!