Panther Park Then surely I'll do the same,

She slipped down the mountain. Away from the willows, toward a western path. The opposite of them from the mountain, and with that hope, she wouldn't need to face them again. There was the thought of all their allies, and possibility of so, but it would be so rare, she simply let the idea fall through, and continued forth.

A storm, a rage, she was a flaming wolf. Now, without a purpose. She lurked in the woods, taking shelter from the rain as temporary relief. It was a question, to what she should do from now on? It was the same feeling of being banished from the court, an abyssal of nothingness.

Now she was a traveller once more.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," she said with a hopeful laugh.

vague about preceding events but couldn’t resist

The mountains hid danger, that much was clear. Retracing the Saints’ passage south through the conifers was hardly a safer bet, but at least it was familiar. Of all things Finley had pursued—glory, escape, a fight—this was perhaps one of the most sensible. Between aching injury and incessant rainfall, a little shelter wouldn’t hurt. Just once. As a treat.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

A laugh signaled Finley wasn’t alone. Autopilot had left her memory hazy as the view through rain; she scarcely knew the conifers, let alone the voice or scent. She certainly wouldn’t have recognized the Court, if any traces lingered on the stranger; the Saints’ scent, in turn, had faded from Finley’s. With this encounter she represented no one but herself.

Part of her wanted to stay put, to listen in silence to determine if the stranger was talking to herself, for what reason—but that, Finley had learned, could be seen as stalking, and she was in no mood to incite attack. With her head and tail lowered, the stance of someone averse to a fight, she took a cautious step forward. “What’s not so bad?” The question, though inflection-free as ever, came out softer than usual. High alert had not abandoned her yet.

There was nothing to protect anymore, no need to be so defensive against the many. However, there was still a grudge against the Saints regardles, for she didn't condone what they done. That would still be treated with a malice, but to the rest? There was a simple peace.

She had this grin, covering a murky substance beneath her facade, there was still a bit of.. Remorse happening within, but slowly the water was getting clearer, "Life, you know?" she said, chuckling even more, "gotta move on I suppose."

The stranger greeted her with a grin, off-kilter as the initial laugh but Finley lacked the social know-how to make any conclusions. At least it wasn’t Donovan’s smug smile or Renard’s… lip-curled tooth-flashed thing masquerading as a smile. With a chuckle the stranger also clipped past introductions—perfectly fine, in Finley’s book—and spoke vaguely of life and moving on.

Finley gave a small nod, listening intently. That sounded nothing if not relevant. “Only forward.” It was becoming a mantra.

Would it be presumptuous to assume Finley wasn’t the only stray among the trees? Likely. But the laugh was more… genuine wasn’t the right word, but something in it piqued curiosity. Humble? Not a brag, and not for show. If nothing else, this one wasn’t a Saint. Frankly it was refreshing. “You come from the mountains?”

"Eh, yeah." It was still a rather sour subject for the ex-guard of the court. However she was from the mountain, as Orlaith recently descended downwards. As much as she liked the Sunspire, there was a small chance she wouldn't return.. Maybe if the court moved or disbanded, there was a slight chance Orlaith would return for the peak.

There was fleeting interast for her own homebrew of a Pack, but at the same time, she didn't know where to start. She started with the demand for the title of Queen, which ended in failure.. But now, she was at a standstill on what to do. She wasn't the best at gathering forces.

"You?"

Not much for words either, it seemed. A dismissive “Eh, yeah,” and that was all. Finley knew little of the neighboring packs, only vaguely that at least one was to the north—more than that, really; there was still land above Ravensblood, which she assumed the Saints’ original enemies claimed—a traveling monarch had passed the south, and the east remained a mystery. Further exploration could come later, however, not in this weather and certainly not in her condition. Hell forbid Finley got caught by the Saints again.

The question bounced back to her court. She hadn’t determined whether the stranger was friend or foe, or if it’d even be sane to deliver a warning. More omission it was, then. “Likewise.”

At least the conversational tone indicated the stranger didn’t seek a fight, either. Small talk it was, then, interrogative as Finley defined it. “Headed somewhere?” Already she anticipated the rebound; in addendum, “Seems calmer on the plains, if you don’t mind the rain.” No promises, of course, that Finley would be there—but if the stranger had been around long at all, surely she’d heard of the danger in the cliffs. And if she hadn’t, a baffled reaction would be just as revealing.

"I'm not sure," she scratched her head with a thought. The plan wasn't really supposed to end like this, the plan was supposed to be she rose to the ranks with a crown on her head. However, it was badly rejected and soured her pride so, that it made her feel worthless. In a spit of rage, left the court.

"Honestly i've ventured on the idea of my own pack after some issues with my previous," then finally, she could be listened to, "but this rain y'know? Looks like some sort of bad omen." It hasn't stopped either, constantly pouring down.. She didn't even want to search for a new home, somewhere to settle; she just needed somewhere to rest up now.

Ah, there, information Finley could chew on. So the stranger too was lost, in spirit if not in name—and more intriguingly, she had issues with her previous pack. More strife from the mountains; was the northern alliance less steadfast than it seemed? What chaos lurked within the ranks of their neighbors? The stranger didn’t look terribly hurt; if her “issues” had ended with bloodshed, little showed to Finley. Duly she noted the mention of a potential pack; it interested her less than it might have a month ago, especially if such ambitions were quelled by mere rainfall, but this could be a wolf worth watching.

Hm. Watching. That sounded familiar.

Shoving the thought aside, Finley offered a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not much for omens but it’s certainly unusual.” Warily confident that attack wasn’t on the horizon, she gestured into the trees; an offer to move, continuing a mutual search for shelter if the other wished (though Finley would stay put without initiating; she would not turning her back to a stranger). “You think it’ll keep the packs at bay?”

"Yeah," Orlaith squinted at the sky, with the thunder crackling at an occasional time, "the rain hasn't stopped for a while. There was talk of landslides in the mountains, and perhaps flooding elsewhere. Terrian could change with that." With that was a worry, perhaps the war amongst The Saints would be kept away for a while. She wondered how that would end out- especially as she would no longer take part.

For most, and including herself, it would be a want to find an already-formed sanctuary to lay low while the downpour comes. The flaming wolf followed this new companion for a possible spot. While tree's couldn't provide perfect coverage, it would be something to at least stay a little less wet.

"I doubt too many would want to try and form, perhaps more lone wolves will rush to the already established ones." She thought for a while, any newborns would keep at bay, but then the one's made, would flourish.

Landslides and flooding—if Finley was already averse to trekking back over the mountains, she certainly wouldn’t try again now. Someday, once the mud hardened and the canyons crumbled. Far, far from today.

Ahead the duo forged; it seemed the wolf knew more about the area than Finley, and more promisingly had little hesitation divulging this information to a stranger. She kept as even a pace her weary limbs would allow, gaze shifting to and fro among the undergrowth—partly seeking shelter, but Finley’s true focus lie elsewhere.

At the mention of lone wolves rushing to established packs, the corner of Finley’s lip tugged into a small frown. The stranger had a point; this was horrid weather for recruitment, but perfect for rash decisions. Those with sense might stay away from the unstable peaks. The rest….

“You know an awful lot about the Sunspire.” Somewhere between a question and a statement; perfunctory, prodding. Progress. “Any packs caught your attention?” For better or for worse.

"I was a guard at Seelie Court," she admitted, despite the sour subject, "since they're on the side of the mountain, i've had to learn more about it." She technically didn't count them on the mountain, but a simple side-piece toward. Their dens were part of it, but majority of the willows laid on flatland. On coincidence, majority of their allies were near the mountains, so most of the time was guarding the mountain.

"There's only a pawful I know, but again, I'm not sure." She could easily name just a few due to simple allies, but also one in particular that was not an ally, "as much as i'd like to go at my own pace, it's probably not a good time." Especially since she was denied that pace previously. It was hard to muster any energy to try, especially in the weather. Even she had some sort of brains to not be that much of a daredevil.

"I want to stay away from the mountains for the time being, so it's.. Yuelong, Neverwinter, Kaistleoki.. That i'm aware of," she was sure there was another, but because Moonspear was so vaguely mentioned, she didn't know of the name.

"Kaistleoki is north of here," vaguely guessed, "yuelong is by the ocean. That's a pass," she had no reason to be saltified by the mermaids. She didn't love the water that much to be surrounded by it. The rest? No idea where they are. Of course there was Reneian Empire, but that was the mountains.

Gold. Finley had struck gold and it had barely taken any metaphor at all! Now the tug at her mouth curved distinctly upwards.

Firstly: Seelie Court, mountainside—the pack that Donovan had tried, and failed rather spectacularly, to make peace with. Finley knew little of them besides this; she had no opinion one way or another on their strength, as they had an advantage through alliance alone. More interestingly, the stranger was their guard. Had she been present at the “peacekeeping” mission itself? The question jumped to the tip of her tongue; Finley knew equally little of just what Donovan had done to invite so much hostility, but her impression from within the pack had been less than stellar.

Fortunately for Finley’s impulse control, the ex-guard continued and introduced more. Yuèlóng and Neverwinter were new; Kaistleoki, less so, by scent if not by name [vague for ongoing thread’s sake]. The introduction indicated little judgment of two; Yuèlóng, less so, if only for location. Finley had to agree there; she had little familiarity with saltwater, and with these rains living by the water seemed even less appealing.

By the time the verbal tour had finished, Finley had raised her head in very keen interest. No mention of the Saints, but surely a former guard would know of them. Was there a reason they hadn’t been brought up, even as a warning? If she spoke only of her own considerations, then whatever disagreement she’d had with the Court did nothing to change that.

“You’ve certainly learned a lot.” Knowing one’s neighbors was bare minimum for a guard, really, but count Finley impressed nonetheless. She’d got this one talking. Why not push her luck? “What made you leave the Court?”

"I learned enough." She actually remembered being upset that her knowledge was so minimum when it came to the mountains. She hadn't realized The Saints moved to a sandy location, somewhere she hadn't visit. Orlaith never went too far down from the mountain, as it would be more then a day trip, and she didn't have the time to spare.

Now she literally had all the time, "Disagreements." The thought had the flaming wolf narrow her eyes and scrunch her face in a bit of anger, as she thought of the interaction only a while ago. It wasn't disagreement to say, but a casual excuse to refrain from saying more. She felt like it would be spilling fire. The matter was all on the terms of respect, that she felt had been lost, and could be regained through power of the crown.

Even that, she was not granted.

Now Orlaith had to start from the bottom; by either swearing loyalty, or automatically trying for a reigning term. It seemed not an ideal time, despite the urge.

"It looks like the rain may lighten just a bit," not even where there was clear skies, but at least she could see before her, "I'm going to try and find somewhere. What are you going to do?"

“Learned enough. Disagreements.” Back to clipped answers it was. Finley could respect the reluctance, and she responded with a quiet nod. Must have been quite a “disagreement,” to drive a Court’s guard into aimless wandering—but if there was personal hurt buried in the dismissal, Finley missed it entirely.

They walked in silence for a time, no shelter in sight. The moment stretched oddly long to Finley, as it dawned slowly on her that this encounter could have taken far worse a turn were their loyalties still aligned elsewhere. But as it stood, it seemed neither had anyone to stand for but themselves and what egos they had left.

There were worse wolves to meet.

An announcement of the lightened rain—barely, but evidently enough for the other—washed away Finley’s wandering thought trail. What was she going to do indeed.

Part of her was tempted to divulge their similarities, a lost wolf’s confessional; the rest dismissed the thought with as much casualty as the ex-guard’s topic shift. Did she even know Finley wasn’t in a pack herself?

With a shrug, she finally settled on a word: “Likewise.” Whether that referred to a pack or temporary shelter was up for the other to determine. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The flaming wolf assumed they were a lone wolf, especially since it was hard to detect any scent, and she was doing the same. Simply wandering, and finding a place. She hasn't been a loner in- a while. Even the first time it was a rather quick travel, because she was then swiftly recruited to Seelie Court. 

"I'm Orlaith," she said confidently, "a warrior." No longer a fae, no longer a guard, but just a warrior, "haven't introduced yourself though."

Orlaith. Interesting sound to that one, though Finley couldn’t pinpoint it. “A warrior” came with the introduction as confidently as a surname. However uncertain the future, at least Orlaith had that.

After such a generous informational offering, Finley would oblige her own introduction. “Finley,” she said; only after did she realize this could bite, if anyone asked Orlaith about that one missing Saint. Ah dear. Seemed she had even more motive to keep this one in sight, then. Following a weighted pause, Finley added, “No one significant.” She said this matter-of-factly as she might remark on the rain.

"Everyone's significant, even if they are assholes." Which she always thought, and reason she desired everyone to be under her wing. Despite how small some may be, within a group they can be large, or even later, cause trouble. Memory was a simple wolf, should've be insiginificant, yet he was caught going at it with an enemy. Perhaps he was a spy all-along, she could never count someone as small anymore.

"Heading north, feel free to follow if you're looking for a Pack. I know they're up there." She had to get moving eventually, especially since the rain let up. Who knew when it would pour again.

we can wrap after this or your next post if you want? :o

Even the assholes indeed; Finley could name a few. Still, whatever value for “significance” Orlaith was using, Finley didn’t share it; significant were the wolves who made waves, not lowly followers who kept their heads down and left without a word to their pledged.

Significant were wolves like Orlaith, who suddenly declared a move north with renewed purpose. Had her earlier talk cleared her head? On one hand, Finley had little intention of throwing herself into a new pack without ample forethought. On the other, scouting the area assumed ideal conditions, of which she had few. The rain, ever-ominous, promised little respite.

It wouldn’t hurt to follow, at least. If only for a short time.

With another dip of the head, an almost subordinate respect creeping in despite herself, Finley let Orlaith take the lead.

If she followed or not, made no matter. Orlaith already made the move toward wherever- she still wasn't sure whether to join or not, but perhaps once meeting them, could decide so. Lots of indecisions for the warrior, lot's of probabilities she could do. All could be determined in a few days, she hoped.

And it seemed she gained a companion along the way.

Finley has joined the party!