Serpent Lake the wild hunt

dawn breaks and darroch's haunting jack-o-lantern gaze follows the sun's ascension. it was how he travelled when leaving frosthawks: slumbering during the throes of night: finding abandoned haunts along the way and travelling by the light of day when the shadows of uncertainty where chased away.

darroch follows the slithering of the river, it's path snaking along the lands, pausing now and then to drink from it's cool waters.

the river, as far as he was concerned, was the perfect travelling companion: offering water, a way to cool off when the humidity and heat rose to a crescendo and supplied fish when he was hungry.

even now, as he lingers like a sphinx against it's banks he is loathe to part with it.

along those same banks, Marija found a way to quench her thirst. she'd dipped her paws in the shallowest of the water too, to ease them after much walking. her tranquility transformed into an alertness of quarry as her nose picked up the scent of a stranger.

her head whipped about until she found the source and she gulped down the last of the water in her throat. blue eyes wide, she locked her gaze on the lumbering stranger. she'd grown somewhat used to the sight of wolves, but she was still a dog of weak heart. she stayed put however, but she was ready to run at the slightest hint of aggression.

small, thin, and as pale as snowy banks — though not a startlingly unfamiliar sight as darroch, as one third of the oneiros triplets was used to such a pale sight — the stranger drew his gaze.

because though she was obviously canine, she does not strike him as wolf.

darroch stares, but because the oakheart is perplexed; attempting and wholly failing at determining what she is.

only to decide in the moments later that it does not matter.

he averts his gaze, realizing that he was unabashedly staring, though his gaze touches upon her for a few stray moments as he lets out a low chuff of greeting.

Marija returned the stare with her own, averting it just as stiffly. although she heard the greeting, she hesitated with a response. 

how do you greet a wolf? like a neighboring dog? ask what he'd had for a morning meal? — the dog felt silly asking that alone. 
after the deep breath of her pink nose, Marija took a hesitant step into the rushing fresh water. if she was going to be cordial, the very least she could do was approach the wolf on the same side of the river — no?

hello there! although she spoke with a friendly tone, there was a nervousness behind her words. fine day, isn't it? she gave an exasperated sigh as her paw couldn't decide whether to take a step further. 

heaven forbid this poor stranger witnesses her get swept up by an angered river for daring to cross it's boundary. the thought alone put a brief frown on her visage.

a fine day she asks ... or declares it? ... from the other side of the river. paw dangling in the ever flowing water, he flicks said paw; errantly. lazily.

hello, darroch returns in greeting. so far. darroch allows with a boyish grin, not picking up on the fact that she is nervous about him.

social cues missed, perhaps. or his own ignorance because he has spent all of his life so far among family that had never been ill at ease in his presence.

the day is still young though. he adds thoughtfully a beat later. i'm darroch. darroch frostfur.

Mari still hesitated, instead standing stiffly as she was caught between closing the distance or maintaining it. she keeps her smile however, never once letting it flinch (unless she'd already had. she wasn't sure)

hello Darroch! she chirps. she thinks a moment, recalling if she'd said her name already or not, until she realized the was a silence lingering between then and the dog shook her head. 

oh! marija! my name is Marija. she spoke with a nervous chuckle, the young girl sweating. um, so it is.. do you have plans? she asked without considering if that made her come across as nosey.

they are, darroch feels, making progress.

slow progress, but progress all the same.

marija she introduces herself as. marija, he repeats her name, testing how it forms upon his tongue, how it sounds passing betwixt his lips.

it holds a different sort of sound than the usual frostfur / frostfur-redhawk names he was used to hearing; used to speaking.

that's a pretty name. he says. uuhhh, he drawls the noise in on a long inhale. not ...really. he admits with a low, soft chuckle. how about you?

she nods at the repetition of her name, as if to confirm he heard it right only to smile. ah, thank you. she mumbles. 

was it a pretty name, she wondered. back in her hometown, it felt a little common but the girl wasn't back in her hometown. maybe for the wolves here it comes across just as foreign as they are to her.

me? oh, no.. a slight lie, she'd planned to take a dip in the colder water to chase away this unbearable heat but that at most would take five minutes or so.. ...would you like to figure something out?