Larksong Grotto Ligeia

Aside from her brief foray into the marsh a few weeks back, Masquerade never ventured outside of her mother’s claim. But when her current targets—a trio of does—led her eastward toward the neighboring grotto, she barely hesitated. They hadn’t noticed her yet, after several hours of careful tracking. She wanted to see where they went, what they did, whether they ever settled down to rest.

The Toweard followed them through the forest to a pool deep in its heart. She tucked herself away when they stopped to drink. Masque took a moment to look around, assess her surroundings with all her senses. But when the small herd moved again, her eyes cut back to them just in time to watch them bound up a sort of natural staircase on its far side.

She hastened after them, though they disappeared before she reached the foot of the steep outcroppings leading up to the glacier next door. Masquerade stood there and huffed, reluctantly accepting that today’s tracking venture was over and she should head back home now.

They were old enough that this was to be expected.

Wandering and weaving. Masquerade's scent followed another. One of prey — and with it came the soft washing of pride. She was already set on a good track in life.

But such was to be expected for the child of Wealda.

When he caught up to her (for he was in no dire rush) the herd had already departed. Which left him with just the girl, huffing and heaving.

Tell me what you saw, It was an invitation for a hunting report, if she cared to share.

When a familiar face approached and sidled up alongside her, Masquerade quickly submitted. Her head dropped and her tail went limp as she waited to see if she would get in trouble for foraying so far beyond the borders. But Prophet did not berate her. He only asked her what she’d seen.

She took a seat, head still hung low but face turned in the Berserk’s direction as she replied, Three deer. I followed them for hours. They went that way. Masquerade gestured with a foreleg. None of them had antlers, so that means they were female, right?

It was her turn to scout the herd for the residents of the village, which was a job Tulukiri enjoyed but wasn't exactly good at.

She refused to take backup; citing that she came from a hunting village originally and that its in the blood. In truth, she wasn't nearly as stealthy as she claimed. More likely to spook the herds out of the valley than towards the waiting hunters along the moraine, or towards the river.

She was glad to have the space to work alone, though. To range from the tiny village of people she didn't know. It gave her a chance to see the world outside those limits.

This was how Tulukiri came to the mouth of the grotto. While she had scented deer and tried to find her way to them, she was caught by surprise when a pair of voices found her ears. She was much more interested in the locals at this point - so she began to climb, and stopped upon finding herself with company.

It looked like one rugged mountaineer and a trainee. She gave a chuffed greeting, then waited to see if they'd run her off or not.

Gently he aimed to nudge her with her well done assertion of the herd.

Correct. They would be does. He told her, feeling prepared to perhaps offer a task — or suggest Augur for such. Instead his attention drifted to their newfound company.

A young woman, pale in coloration. Seemingly non-hostile.

Still he stood tall, prepared to be a body between her and Masquerade if need be.

Hunting? He inquired with a soft cant of his head.

The tip of her tail wiggled when Prophet gave her a nudge. She mouthed at his chin, a token of affectionate respect. When Masquerade drew back, she noticed that he wasn’t looking at her and she began to turn to follow his eye line when she heard the low woof.

Masque pivoted swiftly so she stood parallel to her elder, ruddy face pointed at the new arrival and eyes widening as she shouted, Chanterelle!

Only after the word left her mouth did she take a closer look and realize this wasn’t the woman from the nearby bog, just a strange she-wolf with similar coloring. She felt her cheeks warm and her eyes dropped bashfully, uncertain what to do say for herself after the mistaken identity.

Prophet posed a one-word question and Masque drew in a breath, glancing up briefly to await the woman’s response.

The older of the two regarded her, and made a guess as to why Tulukiri stalked the area. She nodded - just as the younger spoke, and for a moment Tulukiri thought someone stood behind her; so she looked over one shoulder and realized late, the kid referred to her.

My pack over at the river, and our friends who are visiting, are hunting together. It seemed worthwhile to mention their greater numbers (however temporary). Are you from the area?

They looked like the rugged, wild creatures Tulukiri was used to - and she was curious.

"Chanterelle!"

He blinked at Masquerade who seemed to have a sudden change of heart. Did these two know each other? If so, the other hunter gave no indication of it. And the Rise child's shrinking seemed to give way to a mistake.

But the woman informed him there was a large gathering of hunters. A pack and visitors at the riverside. Of course this felt like horrible news. Hunters in the taiga meant less for the Rise. Avicus would want no such thing. Yet he formed words where she did not.

His head was tossed to motion towards the rise. Hardly far from here in any regards.

I am the Berserkr of Redtail Rise. Pride, of course. What is the name of your pack?

He had not forgotten the younger girl by his side, wondering if she might stay to see how these types of things could work.

The word “hunting” snared her attention. Masquerade forgot her error as she processed everything the woman said. There was a pack at the river and they were hunting together with some visitors. Masque wanted to ask so many questions, though the two adults directly engaged and she deferred, listening closely to every word said.

They were locals. Tulukiri didn't know much about the area, so the name of their home was helpful only so far as a descriptor, giving her a good indication of how far they'd travelled or their span of control in relation to Natigvik; it sounded as though they were from nearby, but far enough from the village to not pose a threat.

The girl was quiet; Tulukiri focused instead on the man, then, as he seemed to have questions as well.

I come from Natigvik. The village rests beneath the glacier, along the water. It seemed only fair to give this information in exchange for what he'd already offered. What is a Berserkr? You're away from home now; are you a scout? Did you hope to hunt the herds too? He could've been a hunter, or a ranger, but definitely some kind of warrior with the wild mien he carried.

The daughter of the Rise remained silent, but steadfast. Such seemed to be common among the children of Avicus, no?

Regardless —

I am the leader of fighters. He explained with a prideful note. But we are made of hunters too. Perhaps more so than your Natigvik, I have heard nothing of such a place.

But she seemed able bodied, eager in a hunt for knowledge at least.

Was it wrong to poach bodies from others? He found he cared little.

I know Talamasca could use some paring down of their thread logs (and so could I, to be honest!). So I’m hoping it’s alright if I nudge this toward a conclusion. :)

The towheaded yearling answered Prophet’s questions readily, though Masquerade realized—not without a pang of embarrassment over her earlier shout—she’d never offered a name. Nor had she and the Berserkr, for that matter.

I’m a hunter, Masquerade offered when it felt appropriate to chime in, well, in training. My name’s Masque. I was actually following some does earlier. She gestured vaguely, then posed a question either adult could answer: I wonder if they belonged to these herds…?

But before anything other than names could be exchanged, a howl filled the air, coming from the rise. Masquerade would recognize that voice anywhere: her mother. Avicus wanted to know her whereabouts. The Toweard promptly howled back, giving up her current location and reassuring the Wealda that she was with an escort.

Exchanging a glance with Prophet, Masquerade let their acquaintance know, I need to get back, before quickly turning and loping obediently back to her mother’s domain.

fading us out :D

Greetings exchanged from the young hunter that he could almost consider his child.

Then Avicus' voice pierced the air, her daughter quick to respond. Prophet threw his own voice in for good measure. Content to call it here on the little...tracking trip.

He had enough information to seek out more if needed. So he'd offer only a chuff to the gold hunter before following the youngest hunter here back to the Rise.