Emberflame Ridge euthyphro dilemma

Stained pink in large swathes from a recent kill, Paladin ascended into the folds of a dense, autumnal forest, as she found it unoccupied. Head on a swivel, she scanned for signs of running water and wended a path that took her willfully through the steady-thickening foliage in an effort to find some. The more vibrant and wide the trees became, the closer she knew she was, though she kept her pace tempered against the swell of anticipation.  

She smelled, rightly so, like death, and would not suffer to carry the telling stench around for long. There were fresh wounds along her sides too, superficially contributing to the bloody dye of her coat. Most of her temporary color, however, seemed to be the blood of something else, and the closer one was, the more apparent it would be that she had either battled prey not easily felled, or another predator, smaller than she.  

After venturing for a mile into the noon-dappled woods, at last, the scent of water faintly touched her nose.

For @Solpallur, et al

Aware of the pack that resided in the gentle dip of a valley and it’s rockier climes, he had circled around it once again to survey from afar. Solpallur had been fortunate enough not to have encountered anyone from the willowed valley, but thought there would be a time all too likely that they would cross paths. Especially if they kept camping out higher up in the alpines with the ravens—there was really no way that they didn’t know about all the trinkets and treasures that were kept there.

Finding the stream was as good as any reason to follow something, though he didn’t know where exactly @Stjornuati had gone off to. HIs brother had been with him for a spell, but something had caught his attention to draw him away otherwise. With a natural rendezvous point, they ranged separately now, always able to guide themselves back to at least one or two spots they had been staying in with @Meadow and @Miwa to swap their finds or lack thereof.

Information would always be a pertinent thing for them to have. Even more so now that winter approached; he had been greeted more than one time glittering with frost, and the taller mountains were rimmed with snow that did not fully melt beneath the still warm gaze of the sun. But working up to gathering that information was a task in itself; he was not a very sociable creature, so any work he did to learn of those wolves would be under the radar at best as he could perform.

Pausing along the stream, he drank then, listening to the world around him in its cacophony.

The wide, flat mountain creek began to materialize forthwith after Paladin received an initial sign of it. As she prowled forward in the lope of an agitated panther, the sound of babbling water, gently rushing, grew steadily stronger to her ears, and her dangling tongue started picking up on the moisture in the air. She felt relief when finally laying eyes on the lazy river, ceasing her disquieted panting even as she rushed forward with an elephantine splash.  

Senses still curved by the cloying scent of blood, she could not yet detect the male upwind of her. She also could not see him downstream, because of the unlevel lay of the land separating them. On top of these unfortunate circumstances that left her virtually prone, the salt she-wolf was also intensely concentrated on getting her coat cleaned; Running the water red for a brief stretch.

Refreshed and halfway washed, Paladin stopped dunking herself long enough to catch the scent of another. Stock still and dripping, she snapped her muzzle towards the smell and searched the frosty undergrowth for something that likely wasn’t there.

ugh, i really just had to brush up on upwind/downwind for this... LMAO you would think i'd know this stuff by now *facepalm*

His tongue had lifted only moments before the water ran red between his legs. It was a curious shift, one that he did not immediately take notice of until it had whisked itself away, but by then the water was stained, diluted. Dirtied. The acrid tinge was faint but enough for him to swing his attention upstream to find the source of such a peculiar sign.

He was trekking upstream by the time it had stopped, his nose working and deciphering any trace of just what was happening ahead and out of sight. It could have been anything, a fell beast taking its last moments in the cool waters; a trap; or in this very case the sight of another pale figure between long branches of fallen logs that had no hope of damming up the creekbed.

A low grumble resonated deep in the heart of his dark chest as he surveyed her, though he made no move to remove himself from the waters. It would have figured that even here he couldn’t avoid the company of another; he had hoped for a free meal, not someone washing away the remnants of such. Sharply, he turned away from her—perhaps he could escape yet before she took note of him.

Even as Paladin concluded that there was nothing there to be seen, in her peripheral shuddered a void along the shaded riverbed, across a wilted dam, and it was the swift departure of this foreign nighthawk that drew her full attention.

She saw the dark figure for what it was: a fleeing wolf, no more discernible than the rest of its black-coated contenders at this distance. She might inspect the retreating scent later, to at least determine the wolf’s gender, but for now she let the shadow slither away unimpeded. Her stinging wounds forbade any real curiosity, though she was careful to make sure he was out of sight, before resuming her haphazard cleanse.

Careful and swift, he moved with far more finesse than he should have been able to. Not quite slinking—Solpallur was far too stocky and tall to get away with such a feat—but a hunter’s prowl, low and stalking through the reeds and rushing waters. He put distance between them easily, only pausing when he had neared closer to where he had first seen the waters run red. He considered his evasion a success, seeing then that he had not been pursued. Yet not one to linger, knowing full and well the risk that came with such and his own proclivity for being unsociable, Solpallur began to move on sans stealth.

He did not know he had been seen, nor knew if he would be pursued.