Cedar Sweep Shameless and shining, we always ask why, for

a day after this thread

Roaming back to King Elk Forest, she passed into the Cedar Sweep. Autumn eyes momentarily glanced into entrance of the mountain, where another forest grows, and a swamp into the mixture. Now it was occupied once more, as the Saints, moving from where they previously were, decided to become new neighbors.

Célnes could only hope they were not greedy to expand outwards, for Cedar sweep was also quite close to Kingslend. She made no thoughts to claim such neutral ground, not desiring to stir up more trouble as they mearly obtained neutrality in the likes. Normally so, she should be more wary how close- but the fact was a swamp and a mountain divided the two, they were so close, yet the barrier was sufficient to give ease.

-

The flower offering had been left behind, but in it's replacement did she hold beautyberries. Beautifully purple, and growing in spring. She wandered if any grew within Kingslend, and brought back to ask others if they had seen.

Soft thumps of footfalls against grass, the sound of birds chirping, and the low whispering of wind tickling the insides of his ears. He is pacing just outside the opening of his grand Strath. He has finally declared the place as his — the entire Strath. He will protect it and the surrounding territories with teeth and violence if needed, but only if needed, for now anyway. 

So this fine day, he decides to venture from his walls of relative safety and he uses the word safety very loosely. So as he walks, he dares to spot another canine esc form only a fair few meters away from him. The wind carries her scent to him and he smiles at the realization of who this shewolf is. She is the alphess of his dear and loving neighbors. 

So as not to spook her, he casually pads closer with a light chuff to announce his presence if she hadn’t already seen or heard him coming. The sun that beat shakily through the canopy above alighting his golden orbs and dance along his unique, cursed pelt. 

“How are you, Célnes?” He begins casually. Surely she’d remember him, they only met a bit ago anyhow.

Célnes was not one to forget faces, as a wolf born in a large family pack, she had to have a good mind to remember the hundred of wolves that roamed previous homeland. Not to mention, unused to the different features wolves of teekon had, there was no question she would not remember, especially this man. It was a wonder, how the High Elk saw him, for the brown that was coated in the black stripes, and whites among his chest. Peculiar, in general.

"Hello there Donovan," she greeted back cooly, with a smile of politeness, "how are you faring? Are you settling in the strath well?"

The grandmaster is satisfied to see that she still remembers him; she even greets him with that form politeness that she showed last time. Whether she’s actually like that or acting he can’t tell yet. He doesn’t know enough about their pack or her as an individual. Hell, if he wanted to go off of how he is, he’d say she’s being polite for the hell of it and there’s something more sinister in there. That could also be because he’s like that as well and he’s almost positive he’s much, much worse than she is, but really you never know.

So he pads over to a nearby tree and leans a broad shoulder against it as he looks upon her in a friendly mic casual manner. It doesn’t seem like he had a care in the world with his outwardly nonchalant appearance.

Though he almost wants to squint when she calls him Donovan and not Kynareth. He gives her the benefit of the doubt though, mentally defending her by going off of the assumption that she couldn’t remember the oddity that is his true name.  

“I am, thanks for asking. The pack likes it as well. It’s a nice area.” He hums as a bright golden gaze watches her. She captivates the whole of his attention except for the occasional dance of his eyes on the horizon. “How about you? When did you come to these lands? Well, before I, I assume? I know it was quite some time ago that I saw your brother wandering around on the other side of the mountains looking for your other siblings. Big family, huh?”

"Ah, apologies. My brothers have referred to you as Donovan, but you wish to be called Kynareth, yes?" While the elken woman only recently met the man, she had heard him on previous days. They both referred to him as Donovan, and upon introducing himself with another name, it was an oddity. Perhaps threw the King off, but she corrected herself as so.

It was always best, to be on good terms with all. The Kingslend way was seclusion, and neutrality. While one may be harder, Célnes could only desire to remain on friendly terms with all. A selfish wish, to say.

"We have been here for some time, however originally we were deep in the east." Starting from the taiga, the family slowly moved all the way to the hinterlands. Though by the mountain, did their family officially meet and reunite with each other. It was still a shame, as along the way the Kingslend group had lost a few wolves. Particular, Corliss, Brewster, Toshi, and Whitney, who none would miss to much, sadly. It gave a wonder, if the rest of the white Deorwine's survived.

"Though before arriving here, we were once in a large forest, however sadly it has been burned down in fires, and we all had to flee, if one survived. Majority, of those in Kingslend, are from the Déorwine family- from that same forest." Célnes didn't specify how many, but emphasized on the word 'large.' For their family was many, and many around outside of teekon that hopefully, survived from those same fires. Though she explained as so, they wouldn't have left the forest if not for the embers. 

"We are fortunate to reunite."

It was a peaceful moment to think. She would redirect the question back, but if memory served, during the meeting he had already given his reason. On odd terms with others, and wishing to group up and plan. Perhaps smart, but Célnes did not know who he was going against.

At her considerate inquiry on which name he wants to be called he shrugs, eyes closing for a moment to emphasize that he doesn’t care much. “Whatever you want to call me, I’m not too picky.” And for a fleeting moment he wonders what everyone else has told her about him and his pack. Surely, it’s nothing good, it never is anyhow and it makes him want to laugh.

So as she informs him of her packs history and hardships he nods occasionally to signify that he’s listening. His eyes never leaving her own, he’s a stickler for eye contact. It’s a way to show many things and he knows that sometimes it can make those who’re more submissive shy away and become uncomfortable and he fucking loves it. 

“An unfortunate past. Much like my own.” He offers the slight insight to his own past. “My whole pack was killed by my bitch of an ex-wife who worked for two-legs.” Then his stare comically deadpans to Célnes a light crack of a smile of his lips. “Now that is fucking unfortunate.”

He gets up off the tree and does a light stretch and cracks his neck brutally, a sigh escaping his boxy muzzle afterwards. “Glad you all got together again though, but enough about our sad backstories. Would you like to go on a hunt with me?” He asks confidently with a charming smile. “If not, I promise I won’t get offended.” 

"We all have our unfortunate pasts," she gently commented. Célnes knew quite well they were not the only unfortunate group in the world of wolves, especially with how many were across the land, and not too many being of family- they all escaped one way or another. He too, seemed to have a past and escaped to the same place they all had done.

Though the two shared in common, they rebuilt. 

"I would be delighted," the King had no reason to decline, not being in a hurry to share such delightful news. After all it would take a day to return to the elken forest, "however I will say, due to our culture, we do not hunt male elk. It is against our very own moral and code." She indirectly said while that was off-limits to herself, everything was alright to hunt.

Personally, Célnes did not mind for the wolves of others to hunt the Apostles. Their goal was to protect the main pack that lived in the depths of Kingslend, and while it was unfortunate they couldn't protect the rest, she knew they had no right to forbid others. She minded, but she couldn't stop them; thus no point in truly caring on the matter anymore.

We all have our unfortunate pasts. She says and he couldn’t agree more. At that he chuffs out a short exhale of a laugh and replies. “Don’t we all? It seems like you’re lucky if you don’t.” A useless but quick comment that more often is true than not, not matter the sadness of the truth.

Though when her confirmation of a hunt together he smiles devilishly. Not in any type of malicious way, but it borders closer to a cocky, Prince Charming type of smile. Though upon the reveal of her religious views he tilts his head with an interested him of acknowledgment. 

“Interesting, that sounds easy enough.” He comments, agreeing to her terms. He begins a languid trot towards where he last saw a small trio of doe just a few hours ago. An inviting look from the Grandmaster to the other alpha signaling for her to follow. “May I ask why?” Comes his inquiry, surely she’s not surprised by his prodding.

"I would hope the future generation doesn't have the same." Majority of the old Kingslend had lived such pleasantries, and while there was a darkness surrounding the royalty, she still had luxuries others did not. She could not help but think where her uncle Grayson lied, and her whore of a mother, nor' the wickedness that was the fire. Such trivials to now her current life.

Célnes followed him so, as she did not have too much opinion what would be hunted, "If one were to hunt the elk, the defense of a herd, it would leave the rest defenseless, no?" There was a thought, if he too would deduct they were but a inbred cult like the Firebirds have done. She could not get over the bitter taste of the golden woman who despite simply just meeting them, already disliked them, and seemingly so, decided to blame them for her own childs trouble. 

That was a woman, the King would never like, nor' get along with. The thought of a similar fate to Rohesia or Grayson would provide such pleasantries, but never would she try to attempt; only but to dream.

"The Déorwine's are often ingrained with the teachings of the High Elk, he with a thousand horns, and provides us bountiful land. In return, we protect his Apostles, and refrain from touching them. Though, we cannot stop all wolves, just ourselves." All said with but a pleasant smile.

She begins following him, mentioning her hopes of better generations to come. To which he hums back a sound of acknowledgment, one of agreement. Then she’s spouting some odd sentence about killing the protection of the herd by killing the elk and the history of their religion. 

As he trots he cranes his neck to look at her. His smirk that meets her is charming, but toothy and confident. “I think they’d have a chance. Nature always finds a way.” He chirps promising to her. Though he sniffs the air then shifts his nose to the grass and finally catches a scent. Heading in that direction, they’d be able to see the nearby herd here soon, they’re close.

Though as he tracks them he still listens to her intently, turning to look at her occasionally to show her he’s listening. Auds flipped back in her direction every so often as well. “That’s an interesting religion. Sadly, I have to say I’m a much simpler, instinct driven man.” He adds. The desire to protect something he was physically and mentally wired to kill just doesn’t do it for him. He doesn’t fight his natural, savage cravings. He is one with them. “But you know, dear. To each their own. It doesn’t seem like your religion would affect me directly or negatively so I have zero issue with it.” Comes his pleasant response with a small shrug and a smile in her direction before movement catches his eye. 

He stops and holds his head up, eyes going straight through the few trees in front of him and auds directed to the ungulates just a few meters ahead of them. He lowers himself slightly and looks to her. “You pick, since you said there’s some that your kind don’t hunt.” Is his friendly command.

Célnes only continued to smile, refraining from commenting more. There was far more to the culture then just don't hunt male elk, but alas, in this land it has caused issues. With the issue with Firebirds and the fact that Calhoun said some unsavory comments, she did not want yet another tiresome neighbor to the mixture. She would prefer, complete neutrality with these saints...

That is how Kingslend was, and preferred to always be. All but in there corner, gathering in numbers as they simply grow into what it once was. So, the King would hope. She had some ambition, and for the day Kingslend would fall again.. Well, she had backup plans to the mixture.

"How about that one?" Her nose pointed to an but an older female doe, she strayed a bit away from the main herd on the outskirts, minding her own business, "there is a less of the chance for the leader to emerge." While she did not in particular see a male, that did not mean he was not nearby. She felt the older they were, the less importance she was for the reasons of breeding; perhaps they could get lucky.

As they look over the herd his eyes flick to each and every one of them, much like Célnes’ own. As she points the a rather secluded, elderly doe out he nods casually. The meat would be different, depending on their age, how healthy they are, the stress they’ve been through, and other things related. He’s definitely not picky though, so he looks to her and nods once more confirming her question. 

“Let’s go.” He hums quietly, and he’s hardly giving any space between that and the departure of his last know spot beside her. Hoping they will fall into the rhythm of naturally hunting.

He’s lingering closer and closer to the side of the doe that’s nearest to the heard so that if one of them does come to protect her it isn’t Célnes they’re stomping. He’s taken his fair beating from does and bucks alike so he’s not too worried about it. Especially as he lowers his head but rather boldly enters the fray. The deer have already spooked at this point and Kynareth’s flicking his eyes towards Célnes in a silent command to start the chase since she definitely seems faster than he is. He’d be right behind her.

sorry for the wait!

Deorwine's were naturally good hunters, and majority fell into the trade of so. While warriors were a blessing to guard the herd, it seemed naturally they fell upon the body-type of hunting. She was also, one of the kinds. Her frame was built for speed and stamina, for long-legs and a willow-like build, Célnes knew she was no warrior, and held relief that she even gained a guard for such reasons. While she wouldn't mention it, he in fact covered a weakness she held.

Quite a few in fact, perhaps the ego of wanting more sometimes got in the way of such, or the words of tongue to try and sound 'casual,' through a facade in front of her family. Fake, fake, fake, is what all could scream behind the mask that there was. Nontheless, a smile can be seen through all that, the blood and the embers, the red carpet granted by Rohesia.. The glory.

The same smile was given to Donovan out of gratitude as he boldy entered the group, deciding to be the one to take the bulk. He was a large man after all, someone who was a leader to another pack, and surely took on a fair share of battles. So when he urged her forward, she picked up a pace to catch alongside the elderly doe, and clung to it's side.

Claws out and fangs to breathe, directly to it's legs did she bring it down alongside herself- a tangle of a mess as a growl through the heap that she was in.

Perfect. Just as he suspects they’re not a bad team and he’s narrowly avoiding getting stepped on or tripped over by a few other deer. One even hops right over him and he has the audacity to not even blink. Internally he’s giving a comical Holy shit, that was a close one. but ultimately keeps his cool in front of the other pack leader. 

So his eyes eagerly eat up Célnes’ form as she’s speeding up to catch this doe. Her long elegant, but obviously strong limbs effortlessly gaining ground on the deer. Then before Donovan knows it, he’s watching her bite and slash at the deers side. 

That’s his queue to speed up and do his fair share of work. So he does just that. Mouth agape and black tongue on display as he struggles a bit to catch up to their high paced running. He’s a big boy — a big slow boy and he can’t help it. Yet he makes it there eventually and he’s going at the doe as hard as he can with bated breath. 

Jumping towards her he latched jaws onto the soft spot of her stomach. Gnawing and chewing in hopes that he can spill her innards and slow her down. Surprisingly, a lot of animals that get their intestines spilled keep running. It’s a horrific sight. One that makes him queasy thinking of it happen to himself, but not truly caring if it happens to another. 

So he does just that. Going in for another bite and he veers the opposite side of the deer and shaking his head violently. Rip. Splash. Scream. There goes her guts all over the forest floor and Kynareth almost wants to scream in victory. That would be fucked up though and he doesn’t know how his most recent company would take that. Yet, even though her innards are no longer inside of her, she continues running. Just as he suspected. The chase continue, but not for long. It would probably only take one more to get her on the ground and another solid shake to kill her.

It was persistent, as all deer should be. Célnes held respect for deer for not only the reason of their religion, but in general they were beautiful creatures who went through a lot. Even upon trying to bring down she was determined to stay upwards and continued running, only with Célnes biting and clawing at her side, and a fire-lit eye glancing back toward Donovan.

Then downwards did her gaze set to the inwards that tumbled to the ground. It was but another reason to respect for their resilience was extreme, even if they were near death, they would rather flee with the grim reaper upon their back, then to feed the hungry wolves. She did not mind the sight, for it was something to be used to as a wolf and a hunter of the land, but surely she watched the organs fall to the floor behind, and noted so. It would be a waste to leave them for the crows.

And finally, she decided as Donovan had done the bulk of the work, she needed proof as well to have done so, and went for the killing strike. As organs fell the vision of the deer was fading and death was around the corner. She lunged her body foward to grab at it's neck, a scheme that not only brought herself down in the mess, but the deer also toppled the the floor. A strong grip to it's neck as blood spewed from the all the bites, and a carpet of scarlet was laid waste to the two hunters.

She wouldn't let go until it's last breath.

He’s impressed by Célnes’ athleticism as she takes down the deer. Jumping and latching onto her neck, he can see the struggle in the deers eyes that are quickly becoming unfocused with her untimely death. He feels no need to rip or tear any more at the deer, for she’s on the ground and already breathing her last breathes — or trying to at least. Unable to do so, the doe finally dies, her heart ceasing to beat any longer 

Kynareth smiles triumphantly at his hunting partner. His gaze then trailing down to the organ trail, then back to her comically. “Not bad, dear.” He congratulated. “For one who worships deers, you’re a fair hunter.”

With that he moves in to snatch up a rich piece of meet from between its empty ribs. “Feel free to take some to your pack.” He offers easily.

"It is our rules to not hunt those who are horned, and thus we must excel otherwise." They also held the factor that any that deems to be a white elk must be brought down. Such foes with antlers were difficult to challenge, and so the Deorwine must train appropriately to act as so. They were not easy, especially depending how many points they held, the more aggressive can they be.

"I also praise you for your strength," and while she did not say out loud, it was a solid duo to be. Quite a few of the Deorwine's were more on speed and and agility then of strength, and she could not picture too many who were more brutish besides a few cousins. A trait she slowly realized now coming to these wilds, seeing wolves be more thicker in muscle then her own family.

With a nod Célnes started to tear a large chunk from the lower part near the thigh. Face mangled with a bit of blood, but nonetheless a tasty treat. If nothing more, the two would depart, and she would return home with but a small present of lunch.

He hums with genuine interest at the philosophy of her religion. His sun-like eyes shining bright as he watches her take her fill of the animal they hunted. Then it seems like it’s her turn to compliment him and he’s smiling brilliantly over to her. His bright teeth gleaming briefly before she seems to be about to take her leave. 

“Thank you, darling. Perhaps, we’ll meet again soon.” He hums pleasantly. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as he tilts his chin up to her in an easy goodbye.