Shadow Mountain And I will fall from your sweet height to prove that all I am is meant to

AND THEN I FORGOT TO POST IT @Anselm

The best part of being completely alone was that you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone. No need to justify decisions or time spent, no need to worry about anyone else's opinion. Reverie was particularly glad for that just now. She was lost — again — and this time was more embarrassing than the last. She had seen the red canyon, knew where it was and should have had a straight path to it. Somehow she'd overshot completely, and gotten off track besides. Now she had no idea where she was.
Heck.
Well! At least she was free! And free to dance! Except... maybe not now. Reverie winced as a few stones came loose under one of her paws, but managed not to lose her footing. No, definitely not now. It was dangerous here, and while she trusted her own ability, she did not trust the ground under her feet. She found a stream and settled beside it for now, eyes trained on the mountains. She needed to find a way to that red canyon.

Each day Anselm grew a little braver. He kicked rocks, marked trees, and bent dry saplings — all little signs for his return path home. 

Today he followed his nose, which lead him to a stream. Along the trail of snow which shouldered the water like a shawl he saw a figure. Anselm had no reason to approach the stranger, but he had no reason to be fearful, either. 

After studying her, Anselm realized she was staring at something in the distance. His gaze followed the direction her head was turned to — all he saw was a grey haze of trees and clouds, with mountains rising in the distance.

A pale figure appeared; a wolf, much larger than herself but perhaps a bit younger. His eyes were amber, she noticed, and for a few seconds that was all she noticed. Oh! She was staring! Oops. Reverie looked away quickly, belatedly realizing that he had followed her gaze toward the mountains. He'd probably noticed her staring into the distance. Embarrassed, she stole another sideways glance at him. Now she would have to explain — and then he would really realize how stupid she was, staring as if she might see through stone to locate a path to the red canyon.
Or maybe she wouldn't have to explain. He wasn't coming any closer, after all. Reverie decided that she wouldn't approach either, not if she didn't have to. So she only stood there somewhat awkwardly, occasionally glancing in his direction but mostly just staring off into space again as if he wasn't there at all. Maybe he'd get bored and leave.

Anselm waited for this wolf to say something. To do something. Every wolf he had met so far had taken the initiative. He frowned, peering slyly at Reverie in the same way she did to him - only, he missed that the looks were returned, for he tended to look away as she was looking upon him, and then look back as she looked away.

Why wasn't she doing anything?!?

Finally he could take it no more. This

WAS

BORING !!

Anselm barked gruffly, bouncing into a playbow before he tore towards Reverie at Mach Speed with snow flinging behind him.

Reverie flinched as if struck when the stranger suddenly barked, after several minutes of not acknowledging her existence at all, and looked up just in time to see —
!!
She shrieked and stumbled back a little too late. She'd missed his play bow and could only assume he was attacking her. And why?! But Reverie was too terrified to question it, and only fumbled over her backwards steps until she tripped and fell in a heap of trembling gold fur. She didn't actually make it very far, either, so there was a distinct possibility that the other wolf would crash into her if he didn't stop in time.

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Anselm had done the universal sign of play. He fully expected a willing subject.

So when Reverie screamed and then did the opposite of play, folded like she'd been a fragile stack of little twigs, Anselm flipped the brakes.

That was not normal behavior. Right?

Was it?

He realized he did not have much depth of experience to draw on. He was only like, nine months old.

What? He mouthed to himself more than Reverie, tail going from gentle way to dejected and limp sway. You don't want to play?

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The attack she expected never came. Instead the other wolf halted just before impact, and stood there. When Reverie dared to look up, she realized it was dismay in his expression. He spoke of play. Oh! Embarrassment washed over her in a flood of heat along her ears and cheeks. He'd only been trying to play.
I thought - well - Reverie righted herself and shook out her coat self-consciously. Um! We can play! She glanced over him and was struck again by how tall he was! Reverie thought she might have liked to be that tall. To reach the highest shelves without assistance — !

That’s right, be embarrassed! Anselm’s cheeks flushed as she shook out her coat. 

No, you killed it. He huffed, plopping into the snow with a sense of destroyed aplomb. The vibe. It is like…. Not good. You know?

He supposed his entry hadn’t exactly been gentle. And supposing this stranger had bad life experiences, maybe her reaction was perfectly normal and he was the asshole. Either way, he couldn’t pretend to be annoyed for too long - it wasn’t his vibe. What’s your name, anyway?

Reverie withered under his rejection, all slanted ears and lowered gaze, and almost considered just — saying goodbye and walking away or something! But that would have been terribly rude, so instead she said, I'm Reverie, The words were quiet and full of shame. What about you? Why couldn't she just be normal? Anyone else surely would have recognized that he was playing! Reverie didn't think she would ever get over this embarrassment.

Anselm was young, but not so young to not realize normal was relative. He thought his family was normal - but as it turns out, normal was just what you were accustomed to, and only that. Somewhere out there, there was another Anselm who had a dad with one eye and a mom with a weird accent -- but it wasn't him.

Reverie sounded cowed. Anselm's gaze swept her a moment before he let out another sigh. He supposed he could forgive her. I'm Anselm. I live over there. He gestured behind him vaguely; clearly, he'd yet to meet a dangerous stranger and had no concept of how unsafe it was to tell someone where he lived. What about you? Are you okay?

At least he seemed willing to move on. Reverie tried to relax, she really did. He introduced himself as Anselm and pointed out the general direction of his home, though he did not mention the name of his pack. She found that curious. Most pack wolves seemed to wear the title like a badge, before even their own identity as an individual. But not him.
Before she could ponder it for much longer, he asked if she was okay. Oh, I - yes, I'm just... a little lost! Something she hadn't actually meant to admit, but there it was. I'm from Kvarsheim, in the valley that way, And here she pointed. But I'm looking for a pack called Mereo - the one in the red canyon. Which she should have been able to reach easily, she thought. Would have, if she was competent at all!

Anselm's eyes lit up. That pack he knew! Hey,  I know where that is! His normally somber features took on one of interest -- was this a chance to show a total stranger his tracking prowess?

After all, Anslem had worked hard to learn all he could about scent tracking since @Reyson had shown him little morsels of the trade. He stood tall, taking deep draughts of the air through his nose. Filtering the dozen scents, Anselm closed one eye and studied the skies overhead.

It should be that way. Come on! While Anselm had no working knowledge of Kvarsheim, he did know a little of Mereo -- he set towards its region at an excited clip.

Fading, thank you for the thread <3 I am def going to bother you for a new one at some point!!

Oh! What a lovely coincidence! Reverie brightened immediately. Oh, thank you! She exclaimed as she followed, and was notably more cheerful on the way there. She made polite conversation, and complimented his wayfinding skills. The mountains were intimidating to her, and so she was genuinely impressed with Anselm's knowledge. By the time they parted ways, she felt she had made a friend, and promised to come see him again sometime.