Firefly Ravine I was following the,

A new life unfolded for Harvest- no, that wasn’t right anymore for her. As she shed the past of what was once her home, she too, had taken upon a new name alongside this new world. Viola, was the name she so chosen, there was no particular reason she could think so, but it was the first she thought of upon leaving the old home.

The tearful look of her parents' eyes still haunt her, so months later after the autumn wolf officially ‘disowned them,’ and allowed the family to reunite back into the familial love of the rest of the pack. However, she could not.

Viola wasn’t sure how to handle the information of Pumpkin B’Spice, the man who was told to be a monster, and yet, she had survived his bloodlust. Who had told her in-laws of those events? She could never know, nor’ confirm if that is the truth. What she did know, is that there was no blood between her and the river pack, and so in the end, perhaps it was true. 

She feared deeply if it was- thecrazed madness that resulted in the man killing not only the lover, but the wife and his children; excluding herself. She hoped there was never a day, the newborn wolf would even become similar to him.

Upon setting onwards to no direction in particular, she was armoured by the beauty that was the outside. The pack was so secluded, and rarely did anyone leave, she almost felt.. Enlightened, upon officially leaving and realizing how beautiful it truly was.
But there was still a sting in her eye, remembering her family, siblings and parents, and even her arranged marriage.. She was truly prepared to be a loving mother and wife, and maybe in the future, that could be granted so.

Though as of months ago, now it was about survival.

Viola was intrigued by the large gorge that laid into the land. It was deep enough where barely she could see the running water, but below was land. Faintly she could see a somewhat set of stairs, but dangerous as it looked, she dare not step to it. Rather the autumn wolf peered into it, as the faint glow of the nightly fireflies slowly seeped out of it.

The weather, being particularly warm, was probably the last day to see such bugs. She felt blessed by such a scene.

A song sung in his heart laying here at the edge of the ravine, watching the little living stars dance over the grass in a way so removed from their world. He wondered what it was like to have so little to do, other than flit about and light the way for others. Or did they light the way for themselves? Or did they simply shine to shine? The thought was a curious one, intriguing and as fathomless as the ravine seemed to be: deep, but not endless. Eventually, he would reach a point where he would wonder no longer, either because he found an ansswer or because his interest died away.

He had yet to reach that point this night, paws dangling over the ledge as his head rested upon them, tail twitching lazily every once in a while. So intent was he upon the little creatures that he did not immediately notice the one who neared, who also stared down as if enraptured. A faint glow lifted, illuminating her face, allowing his eyes to trace the curve of bone and fur alike. Hedonist and heathen alike, Stjornuati was no stranger to the pleasured thoughts that flit through his mind as though a little lightning bug, though he would not act upon them. No, instead he lifted his head to watch her, silent and stoic as he was always.

There was a thump within Viola's heart, not one of passion like the reader may want, but an anxiety sore through her very core to the one she did not know. Many times has she tried to connect to the outside world of the strangers, but often would they turn her away. She dare not, to even step near a pack, believing they too, would turn her away from not being of blood.

An excitment that itched behind that anxiety that flew through. She breathed for a moment, needing to take but a second for sound to deliver itself, "Hello there," oh but so casual and sound softing, her heart was like a drum, works lightly thickened by french, "isn't it beautiful?"

Would he run like the rest?

Her anxiety began as something invisible to the man who watched her, meeting her eyes with a confidence that was as easy as it was lazy. In the North, there was no room for self-doubt, no room for whatever held her as if a deer in the predator's path. The longer his eyes held her form, the more convinced he came that he could hear the fervent cadence of her heart adding to the song of his own, spinning around the two of them faster and faster and faster and

Her voice. Gentle. Sweet. Ears shifted forward to cup and catch the question she posed to him. So few words she spoke that Stjornuati was able to understand exactly what she asked and ruminate upon an answer before nodding firmly. He would turn his head to look down upon the little lights once more, a thoughtful note crooned gently in the following silence. They are as if small stars, no? Bright and beautiful. This one wonders what they are.

The man's voice was unlike any she had heard, thick of an accent that was unfamiliar, and something that was far too new for her. Her ears flickered and she had to pause fully. Viola was in such a secluded back that even outsiders were rare, much less one with such different sounding words, or even languages. She knew there was other languages out there, besides the ones she knew. French was a main, shown through but a small accent that occasionally stumbled out. She was rather thankful to gather enough English through her journey to speak with the man.

Perhaps rude, the autumn wolf snapped out of the daze of thought, "Oh, they're fireflies." 

Lifting a paw out, Viola wanted to demonstrate as so. Perfectly still as she tried, as gently did a single flicker of the light slowly fall down and caress her soft paw. Crawling over, it moved like any other fly, but glowing in a beauty, before taking off from her paw once more. She would hope he caught the sight of the insect.

Fireflies. The word was repeated as he watched the little thing crawl about her paw, before Stjornuati translated it to his own tongue, deciding he liked that much better. Eldflugur. There was a fleeting wonder if they burned but the thought was dashed away, seeing that the contact did not harm the girl that educated him. Better stars than bugs. The comment was his opinion given voice, though even that fell by the wayside as he looked from critter to wolf.

You travel alone. An observation made by the way she smelled, the way her frame lacked meat.

"Eldflugur," Viola softly whispered, before repeating to, "Luciole," transferring to her own mother tongue. She compared the two so, finding such intriguing how far they were in words and verses, and even to English, did it differ so. There was a giddy, in feeling, how wide this world was truly, for how much wolves diversed in culture and languages.

There was a heartache that still lingered to home, but she was also just like a child to the new world. 

"They say they are fallen stars, into.. being mortel." She strung in a thick accent of french, struggling to find a rather English word to 'mortal,' though thankfully so, unknowingly, it was very familiar to the English, "they live with us." 

Her ears then flickered as she downcasted but a pitiful smile, "yes." There wasn't a point in denying so, for she was now starting to show in health, and smelled like no other. There wasn't officially any guide to where Viola should head, and moreso by the whim of adventures.

A tilt of his head was all that the man would use to signify that he did not quite understand, the word mortel lost between her accent and his still growing compendium of the common language. Further still, he could not understand why any wolves would want to live among insects. Her sadness at his query was more interesting to the northerner than the concept of living with bugs and so focused on that, instead.

Why? The question was straightforward and pointed. Had she been cast out? Was she on a search for her own hringja? To be so thin, the female must have been on her own for some time, but there must have been some þrautseigja to her for she was still alive enough to talk and walk.

She averted her eyes, "Ah, by choice.." While it was by choice, it wasn't so willing. How she wished to stay toward the home and become the wife she wanted, to raise the family she desired- but, she was not blood. Viola was not to be within the homebound, and upon the discovery, it was simply the best for all, to leave.

"Are you as well, monsieur?" Faintly so could she tell he had but another upon his pelt, but it was not the familiar stench of a family back of many, but she could not tell for certain. Cultures vary, and while Viola knew that a 'pack' was recognized to be a family of many, she did not know if but a 'few' would equal to the same. Upon asking, only then did she retrieve her orange look toward his own.

No. His head rose, dark eyes meeting the fire-touched gaze of the woman before him. This one makes home in forest of ravens. Though his travels were not far behind him, Stjornuati was glad to be settling down before winter came; the protection of the Watch would serve them well when the cold arrived. And yet, they could not prepare enough. While the gathering of wolves at the watch grew, Stjornuati knew they needed to find more able-bodies that could hunt and protect. Could she be one of them? Would she?

You have survived alone long, ja? Half observation, half question, he let his ears rotate forward so that his attention focused on her rather than the fireflies. For now, at least.

"It is nice to have others, non?" While she wouldn't call him stoic, there was not too many emotions she could call from this mysterious man. She wasn't sure if he would enjoy the pleasures of others, but she also loathed the fact to assume so, for Viola only just met him. She at least, wished him well and his companions. It was something she envied.

"This is my first hiver alone," she so admitted. Her last was with the luxuries of the homeland, but even with such a group, it proved to be difficult. As they in particular were fishing-like, they had to resort to hunting. At least in groups, they fared better then alone. Viola was preparing for the mental trails of so, but honestly, couldn't deny but a fear that traced to her very soul.

Tags for reference!

All wolves were pack wolves, even the loners. There was an inherent wrongness to being alone, for their strength lie in their togetherness, in their syngery. Even he had not been alone, having @Solpallur ever by his side throughout his travels. @Valmúa had been alone, though, and this sent a shard of ice through his heart, an internal pain at the notion of his stronghearted sister having nothing and no one save the earth beneath her feet. And this one in front of him was much the same.

She said a word he did not initially understand, though the consonants and sound were not far off from what he knew. Vetur was a harsh mistress, one that could spell the demise of even the most able bodied wolves, but to even survive on your own in the other seasons...

Stjornuati considered the woman, tail tip twitching in the silence of such observation. It was moments before he spoke again; It does not have to be. A tilt of his chin, a quiet invitation for her to come closer, the glow of the fireflies forgotten for the moment. What talents do you have?

Occasionally did her ear flicker to the small sound of a fireflies wings brushing against her ear, and if she was still enough, they would gingerly lay upon her before ruffling them off. It was a shame they would be the last time to see them before spring was to come. She always enjoyed watching them at night, alongst with the others.

"I'm a," she hummed lightly, "hunter, one of my best techniques, J'espère." She didn't mind sharing about herself. Viola thought while hunting and fighting was but a normal appliance to wolves, she especially enjoyed the thought of hunting. Though... She only hoped it was valuable enough for other packs despite being a common skill.

That indeed worried her, and the worry showed upon the autumn wolf's face.

A hunter! Stjornuati immediately thought of his brother, whose prowess at hunting was unmatched by those their age, in his eyes at least. While he was decent at supporting a hunt, they could use another that held such skill that they might boast about it, thus cementing his idea of roping her into their menagerie. An able body was a plus, and if she could hunt, she could no doubt fight, leading the star eater to believe that though she had a soft, demure exterior she also held a strong and hard core.

This one and this one's brother gather others of mind-likeness at the forest of ravens. You will join this one and survive Vetur with us. And then remain with them after that, for the bond forged by surviving such ordeals together was stronger than those that went untested.

It was a wonder to what these wilds held. She was thought to be born in such an isolated group; they detested outsiders above else and valued blood to their core. Such wolves held their skills closely, everyone was born to be put into some use, and they would find it one way or another. While she wasn't the best hunter of them all, Viola held a bit of pride to it and thought to be an excel at so.

Though these were strange lands, she could not tell who valued what, and how well their own skills were.

"Corbeau?" A land owned by the birds? They were prized hunter companions, and sadly she had yet to gain her own. Her orange eyes glittered in fascination that Viola didn't realize the demand he told, and was more surprised by the fact he offered as so.

"That easily? Do these lands not be by blood?" Surely the two were not related, and he held a brother.. Did they not care?

"But i'd be delighted, Monsieur."

That easy? His head tilted, eyeing her with curiousity. Blood does not make one, how you say... use-fill? All pull their þyngd. If they do not, they are not fit to run with this one and his own. It was as simple as that. If she was not the hunter she claimed to be, or she did not help to support their group, then she would have no place among them.

This one has lítill request of eldflugan kona, if she minds not.

"I am not used to other des cultures please be patiente​ with me." She had to smile lightly at his comment and nod in understanding. Blood was not as important to him, but as Viola was raised to, she did not understand that well. However with his words gradually she knew that these lands were far.. Different, and even their languages are so.

"I do not mind, if you are willing to accept me," Viola then added with a small chuckle.

Her laugh drew a similar sound from the Nord, a low rumble of a sound, mouth splitting into a toothy smile. The expression was a feral thing, untamed, forever a partial threat when he showed his teeth, though he was no danger to the girl before him.

This one, Stjörnuáti af Stormskýli, ask you teach this one your tongue. The statement was made as he rose to his feet, taking a moment to stretch out his legs before approaching the girl to brush against her, trade scents with her, not thinking that she might mind the invasion of her personal space. If she was to be of the Watch, however, it waas something she'd have to get used to.

"Tu veux apprendre?" she was surprised. Unaware of what languages roamed these wilds, she wasn't sure if her own mother-tongue would be useful to anyone. However it would be pleasing to speak to another in her main language, finding it sometimes she shifts to english and french, as some words came and go. Everything was perfection, while English was crackling in certain words.

"I'd be honored to, Monsieur." With a bright and hopeful smile, she accepted his touch and brushed each other for scents and alike. It felt warming, to be able to do this one more, exchanging scents to be.. Among another.

Mjög gott, He replied, turning then to lead her to where she would live among them at the watch. Stjornuati was pleased with his find among the fireflies this night, and felt already that she would be a good addition to their numbers.

Fade