Moonspear pleasantries

She raced around the mountain.

Her long legs gliding with ease, to the mountainous paths she has walked for so many moons.

A place she regarded with such care- but at the same time, felt appropriate being on the outside.

There was no ill-feelings, as she was not family, only a guard.

A thank to the Moonspearians for providing a home, and she in return, eternal loyalty.

And so, around the mountain the spider goes.

Patrols during the rainfall found him moving with practiced care, pouring a tedious amount of effort into each calculated pawstep- though it was beginning to become habit, and he found himself becoming better able to proceed with his border patrols without simply watching for his footing all the time. In some places- where the mountainside was lush with grasses and wildflowers, he was able to shift along without worry, but he still found himself anxiously crossing the sections of loose shale and slate fearful that any mis-step might send him rolling down the mountainside. 

He heard the guardian before he saw her- the patter of her footfalls a steady thrum, causing him to prick his ears and lift his head to see who it was coursing through their territory. He watched her move with the fluid grace of a panther, and found himself challenged to improve his own pace. So as she sped along, he watched her go but found himself pulled from his steady amble and into a trot, which flowed into a gallop as he sought to catch her pace- and perhaps even join her on her rounds. He called out with a playful bark to goad her on, clearing a few small obstacles that found their way into his path, and with a fiery gaze, he put on another burst of practiced speed- hoping he might catch her...But that she would not make it easy for him.

She looked back, one she saw a few days ago trekked behind. He urged her to continue going on, and she nodded, following so and picked up her pace as she could. Desdemona knew the mountains like she knew her own body. Each step was placed with precision, avoiding the more sloping areas of mud, and carefully onto the rocks that could help glide with ease.

She had looked forward upon avoidance, but then looked at him once more, seeing if he could avoid the mud and water.

He caught a glimpse of what he perceived to be a devilish spark in her eye as she caught sight of him, which would be met with an eager grin. But she spared not a moment of time gazing in his direction before there was a slight nod to her pointed chin, and in the way an eagle spreads its wings and pushes a gust of air behind it, she was off. Her assurance caused his confidence to falter for only a moment- realizing perhaps for a moment that he might not be up to the task- but nevertheless, he pursued her, slipping down the slope a bit so that he could travel directly behind her, keeping his eyes on the rhythmic kick of her hind feet so that he knew which obstacles would face him. 

He wondered if she was going easy on him- as he was able to keep up with her for a bit, where the terrain was more even and tempered. Bronco was not built for speed but for strength, and while he was the tough, resilient sort, he found that all too soon his strength began to flag. When she cast a glimpse over her shoulder, though, his courage was spurred on, sides heaving, as he chased her across the mountainside.

He kept up, which was surprising, but also spurred a hint of respect from the guard. Though, there was a spark of rivalry within Desdemona, and she chose to up the difficulty. Around the mountain was one thing, but her pace started to go up, where it started to be more steep with the slopes. 

With long legs she moved in a lure for him to continue, but a look back, waiting for him to fall behind in some sort of slide.

Why a mountain. Why, of all different places, did Meerkat have to choose for them to go live on a mountain? With every stride and forced breath he imagined the other places they could have gone to live. A valley. A fen. The BEACH. But no; his kid sister had chosen to make him- a young man on the verge of developing a dadbod- go live with her on a mountain. He questioned the decision each time he made his way home to their shared den from a border patrol, as it was more or less uphill the whole way back. But this, this was a different kind of torture. 

When she made an adjustment to their trajectory, he took a couple moments before he altered his route as well, giving in to the challenge she now set for him. They wouldn't just be going around the borders, but up the incline as well, though his lungs had begun to ache. He'd already forced himself to run at too fast a speed for longer than he was comfortable- but now she was going to go ahead and make things harder? It was impossible...But who could say no to a dashing woman with legs for days? 

He clamboured after her like an obedient dog, huffing and puffing as he did so. Not only was the incline more difficult, but the loose footing made him feel as though every step forward was really only half a step. His large paws sent small handfuls of stones and slate skittering down the slope behind him, and every now and again one foot or another would slide out from under him, bringing him dangerously close to smacking his chin on the ground. His pace had genuinely slowed now- and he assumed that if she didn't see fit to wait for him that she would soon disappear from sight...But he would carry on nonetheless, in hopes she might take pity on the newcomer.

She wasn't one to give pity. If they challenged, Desdemona was prepare to put them to extreme, like a soldier. She treated herself as one and any who challenged, got the same respect she gave to her own standards. She was impressed he kept up so far, especially knowing the Firebirds were not the mountain-kind of wolves. It took her some time to adjust, and more-so with the rain happening, it was difficult.

So, before letting him have peace, she tried one more trick up her sleave. This time, the spider-guard soley was leaping upon the layers of rocks that laid upon the mountain. She nearly slipped at one point, while jumping to the next, but managed to tumble forward into the grass for a softer landing, and pushed herself to continue.

Rock on rock, and finally, above the boulder for a soft ending, and waiting for him.

Could he follow?

lol, I rolled the dice twice for him to see if he'd slip up or fall but apparently the odds are on his side today *shrugs*

Onward he lumbered, as she nimbly danced up the slope like a sprite with winged heels. He felt heavy and clumsy, his tiredness showing in the sloppy footwork that made him choose now to go around boulders, rather than up and over them. He couldn't simply bound the way she did, like a doe and fawn in the springtime- he gambled with every step he took, trudging up the incline with his gaze almost hazed over with exertion. Still- against the silvery grey of the slate he picked out her taupe outline which now bounded from one craggy outcrop to the next. He shook his head, and lumbered onward, until he reached the terrain she'd led him to, where he would be challenged with injury, should he fall. 

He had to calculate each bound, now, but quite frankly- the brute was tiring fast, and his ragged breathing didn't make it any easier for him to collect himself and then put the exertion needed into a leap. A few times he was able to make it- but when a larger gap appeared, he found himself gearing up for a much larger leap, and from a standstill no less. He gathered himself, and like a cat trying to calculate if he could make the leap or not, he paused, before he thrust himself forward. He scrabbled for a grip as soon as he landed, but was able to catch his footing and continued forward. He caught sight of Desdemona again- waiting for him, now, but beyond the threshold of one final leap. 

When he landed, it was with a heavy grunt, but squarely on his feet. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he cast a glance over his shoulder, surprised, that he'd been able to make it. Licking his chops, he gazed back at Desdemona, trying desperately- and with little luck- to keep himself from wheezing too much.

She stopped on the rock, watching the wolf catch his breath, "You did good," she complimented. Even though he was out of breathe, and at times went around the boulders, he still kept up, and did the leaps. She was also a bit of of breathe, her tongue outwards catching some air while pateintly waiting for him to come forward.

Once he landed, a but clumsy, she regained a regal posture while complimenting him so.

Once given congratulations, Bronco huffed a laugh, and finally allowed himself to slip back into his usual character- and flopped to the ground, panting with his tongue lolling out. "You too," He chuffed jokingly between breaths, rolling his gaze up to look at the somewhat satisfied look on her face. He noticed, of course, that she didn't seem to have been troubled too much by all the effort it had taken him to pursue her this far. He shook his head. There had to be some secret she kept from him- there was no way any normal wolf could bound and scurry the way she did, without getting as out of breath as he was...Or, maybe, he just had that far to go to get into the sort of shape that mountain lifestyle demanded. 

Once he'd collected himself a bit, he sat up, and cast his gaze out over the view. With the humidity the way it was, the lands below them, circling the mountain, were mostly overcast with a thick, soupy haze. He grunted. "All that, an' all we get for a view is the top of the fog," He said.

"It is good excerise." She never really thought to climb area's for the view. Usually if she wanted so, Desdemona would ride to the top of the mountain, and keep where the denning area was. She only jumped rocks for the only reason of simple excerise, and to keep herself busy. Though upon looking he was right about the fog, which she only shrugged off.

"Does your home have mountains?" She asked questioningly. While assuming the Firebirds were more flatlands, there could be mountains around he had trained. Or, it was pure luck.

A mere chuff was all Bronco could offer in agreement- though he also meant it as a comment. Good exercise? Damn right it was; but this was coming from someone who'd never really had to do exercise simply for the sake of getting in shape. He realized by now, of course, that this was to be a part of his training, and that he would have to condition himself physically in order to keep pace with those who danced on the mountain. 

He gave Desdemona a sidelong glance and shook his head emphatically. "-Flat-" He said, signing the word with a swift, horizontal stroke of one of his forelegs as though to accentuate his point. "No mountains in the Copse- that's where I grew up. Just trees, and it's surrounded by bogs so...The air here, it's so much fresher, and less...Swampy," He said with a smile. "Is this where you grew up?"

"No," she said flatly, "I grew up in flat pines." Desdemona did not say more of her area, showing a rather unwillingness to speak more of what her previous homeland had been like. It was a rather dark past to say, one she held with shame and bitterness. Though, it was flat like his, but not with swamps, but of lakes and streams, with pines all around.

"I train to adjust." She said plainly, like it was no big deal. It was how the spider felt, she had to train her way to be able to run the mountain with an ease.

Bronco's mouth snapped shut when he found out that she too- this godlike antelope of a wolf- had grown up on flat grounds. Well that simply wasn't fair. She was certainly built for this, and was a completely different shape than he was, of course- so perhaps she had that as a natural advantage...But the rest, she claimed, came from training and practice. At least that gave him hope; if she could go from someone living amongst the pines to being as practiced on the slopes as a mountain lion, then maybe he could too?

"Woah." He said, obviously impressed. "So how long you been here then?" He asked. It had to at least have been a couple years...But then again, it was hard to tag an age on her. She could've been two, maybe three years old- but she also could have passed for a yearling, like him due to her spidery build. It seemed impossible to think that someone his age could learn to traverse the mountains with such skill in so little time- but from what he could gather of her personality...Once Desdemona committed to something, she committed 100%.

She paused to think, as it has been some time. She vaguely remembered leaving her homeland when she was just a yearling, "I've been to these wilds for nearly 2 years," she said. If she remembered correctly, the next coming month was when she was properly of age of three. However it was a bit of time after that, she had been casted out.

"It'll be a year in a few months." The timeline was a bit blurry, for she found it a rather dark time with her incident with Morningside. Desdemona held a bitter taste against the maplewood pack, but also wondered how it's members were.. The one's she felt betrayed by.

"You were born here, correct?" It was a safe assumption he only knew of the motes.

At first, he was a bit confused when she began to speak of 'the wilds,' as it was all he had ever known. He was aware that the world was a much larger place than what he would ever be able to see, but still found himself content to exist within a small part of it, so long as he made a good life for himself. It would seem, then, that Desdemona had had some travels when she'd been younger, and Bronco found himself trying to do the math- and concluding that she was somewhere around three years old; the same age as his mother and Towhee, he thought. But she didn't seem like it- she didn't treat him like a child. 

"That's...A lot of trips up and down the mountain," He said, with a faint grin. She asked him about his history, and he complied, answering with a nod. "Born and raised in the Copse. This is only the second place I've ever lived," He said, feeling a bit like a first-time flier seated next to a flight attendant.

"It is for the sake of having a home." Three packs in total, she recalled. Three packs, she pledged her undying loyalty to, and two of them, betrayed her so. She had no desire to continue this streak of constantly moving about, she only wanted to live in one area, and one area so. To prove herself to be useful, and to give some purpose.

That was her life, as a guard.

"I see," he was a native, "It is best to settle instead of movement," Desdemona said, providing insight to her own experience. It was advice she would give to any, not to aimlessly wander, but to settle somewhere as a home.

It would seem that despite her travels, Desdemona preferred a stationary lifestyle, on the mountain that they both now called home. And she was prepared to keep herself in tip-top shape so that she could perform her guardian duties without fail. There was something to be admired about her, in the resolute dedication she had to her pack despite the hardships that mountain life threw in her way. Apparently, Desdemona had deemed this pack worthy of the amount of training and conditioning she put herself through- and that said a lot. 

"You think this place is it, then?" He asked. "A good place to settle down and live?"

"Loyalty is hard to abide by. An area can always change, but the wolves cannot." That was her assestment of Moonspear, that their loyalty toward each other was unwavering. It was a family within the mountain, Ostrega's with strangers. She had to admit there was times when Desdemona felt like an outsider, but they never treated her with disdain or purposeful neglectfulness. It was simply, she wasn't family.

"Moonspear is a good place."

He wasn't quite sure he understood what Desdemona meant when she spoke about loyalty...And he felt even more confounded when she tried to convince him that wolves couldn't change. He thought of his own mother- and he would have to agree that in her case, it would be easier to move the whole of Moonspear over to Wheeling Gull Isle than it would be to change his mother's attitude. But still- he was inclined to believe that some wolves were more likely to be able to change their outlook and behavior. 

"I'm not so sure about that." He said. He wasn't sure how she'd take having someone express a belief contrary to her own, but his tone was neutral and calm. "I think there's some wolves that can change." He said. He was glad, at least, that whether or not Desdemona had faith in the pliability of wolves, that she found Moonspear to be a fit home.

"Change can happen on small treks, but one will always have the same morals within." She found it wolves in their inner core could never change. The land they go to can always differ, to the ocean, to the mountains, to the grasslands. However no matter how much one can move, if they carry bloody hearts, they will always bring it with.

"Small steps to a bigger chance can be in place, but one cannot change the whole group." Even if one wolf managed to do so, she found it wouldn't work. There was always core within the groups, be it their loyalty, their strengths, and weaknesses. As one together, it is what defines the group, "they are defined by something together."

Reflecting for a moment on what Desdemona just told him, Bronco realized that the permanency of morals wasn't something he'd ever really thought about much- nor had he really spoken to anyone at length about whether or not morals could change. All he had was his opinion, and the knowledge that his opinion wasn't always right. Desdemona seemed to have more insight on the matter- she answered him with such conviction that he had to wonder what her experiences had been, to form those ideas. Had she tried to change someone? Or had someone tried to change her?

"I s'pose it would be hard, to get a whole pack to change their sort of view of things, huh?" He said. "But if morals can be learned...They can be changed, right?" He asked. He liked to think that morals and beliefs could be changed- but he didn't have much experience in the matter. He looked to Desdemona, then, for counsel and personal opinion.

"I do not believe so." She fully admitted, looking to Bronco, before looking out into the rain. Plenty of wolves have changed, personalities shifted, but many remain with the same core. Packs may change leadership, they may reduce wolves, but how they were built, always remains the same. She did not believe it, as Desdemona has never seen it occur.

However, that is how she thought, "but if you believe it, then continue believing so." Her own core didn't change, but since coming to these wilds, she has learned a lot. Morningside was different then her own, as they were peaceful and welcoming, however in the end they were abandoned. If everyone can leave and come while they like, why can't leadership? And that is what had happened. Moonspear was similar to her homeland in the sense of power, but they carried more loyalty, and eloquence in strength then of a barbarian. She enjoyed that. They had their cores, that made them different. She saw no change in them.

She hoped Moonspear wouldn't change. There was a slight fear, despite what Desdemona stated.

"It is how I see it, but you can see it differently."

He wasn't entirely certain why, but Desdemona's answer brought him a bit of disappointment. Maybe it was because he felt like perhaps his opinion was wrong, and maybe he was still too naive to fully comprehend the nature of other wolves- but also, he felt disappointed, perhaps, because whatever it was that had made Desdemona feel that way...Had not likely been a pleasant experience. He decided that it wasn't something he should try to dissect too much, though, as it wasn't his place to do so. 

She granted him permission t continue feeling the way he did- but he had to wonder if she was only saying that because she felt that with time and experience, he might learn to see things her way without being told to do so. Or maybe she liked the idea of having someone around who was an optimist, rather than a realist. Whatever her reasons were for encouraging him to continue believing what he believed he didn't know- but he could appreciate the fact that she wasn't trying to discourage him. 

"I think that's a considerate way to be," He said, intending for his statement to be a compliment. "Kinda...'Live an' let live,' right?" He asked.

Desdemona didn't respond, instead she looked up to the sky, and then behind her so. The time was getting late, as they spent running through the mountains, and talking the day away. Not to mention, the rain that was pounding harder by the hours, "We should head back," the guard said, "it looks like another heavy downpour," and the mountains were a dangerous place when it became too heavy.