Phantom Hollow camp

in the fog, worsened by spring climates, is where the samurai is most comfortable resting. finding a nook where he could lay his muscular body along, the dark man fights the urge to shut his eyes once again. 

morning has come. and yet the wandering noble cannot get his body to move. it rejects his will.

betrayed by his body, masa retraces the steps he has taken. he has arrived faster than his target — its scent is not carried by the air. but now that means he has the opportunity to lie and wait. as soon as the wind tells him where his target lies, he will follow it. 
but a second idea crosses his mind: what if she never made it? and this furrows his brows. perhaps his target has already been slain. a wave of turmoil washes over masa and he lifts to stare beyond the fog as if to check if a ghost now follows him.

it was not a ghost that followed, but a snake instead.

poised and curled with cutting uncertainty, nephele stalked after him like a rumbling storm cloud.

she did not hide her presence, nor announce it. watchful and waiting, she struck only to analyze with a sharpened stare.

he was close enough to yellowstone to be of consideration, though whether he was friend or foe was judged in the distance of the foggy shadows she lingered in.

eyes. he felt eyes. and with that, masa stood and asked the wind. it gave little response, other than its owner was nearby.

if you are to confront me then do it with dignity. he speaks firmly to the presence hidden within the fog. he was a prepared for a fight only out of instinct. but he could never be too careful. his iron figure stands still, head held high and ears standing at attention in case the forest were to betray the onlooker's position.

shadow spoke, and she shifted to slip free of the misty blanket concealing her.

it was difficult to make out the details of his figure given the haze and darkened shade of his pelt. there was enough visibility to determine he was of considerable size though, and that alone was enough to keep her interest.

she did not speak, gaze still filed with pointed scrutiny.

a smile was then cast out like chum to the circling fish. and she wondered with revolving curiosity if he would take the bait.

the faint sound of movement, and masa snaps to it. a woman, a ghostly pale color. if he is hard to see then she borders on invisible. but not enough for masa's trained eyes to lock his gaze upon.

from what he could see, she is beautiful. a smile runs along her features, an offer he does not understand the terms of and so he does not take it. his cold expression is unwavering.

what is it that you seek from me?

what did she seek from him?

"i seek to discover if you are a viable recruit," she answered directly, ear twitching in the light breeze that fluttered by.

physically he appeared strong, capable of wrangling the herd and holding his own against any adversary.

he was, in her eyes, the ideal recruit in terms of appearance alone. what she couldn't see, was if he would compliment those who already called the plains home.

a recruiter. masa softens at this. there would be no need to fight, for now.

he watches as she scans over him. what for? but masa understood plenty: a pack that seeks to bloom. how fitting then that they chose spring.

he weighs his options. a pack would provide shelter, safety. he could mask his own scent with that of other wolves. connections are the greatest weapon of all — far better than his own tooth and claw. it does not have to be permanent. as soon as his mission is completed, he'll return to where his allegiance truly lies.
but a pack means people and masa is not one for people. not strangers, anyways. god forbid he gets bogged down by pack duties, but what does it matter if all of this is just for a disguise. one to keep just long enough to give him the upper hand over her.

his question is enough to assume he holds an interest, which is enough for nephele to mold like wet clay. carefully, and with a tender grip.

"a home." a pack, yes, though it held more promise than just that. yellowstone sought to be a home for her, her husband, their children, and any who were deemed suitable companions. gears working on a well-oiled machine, collectively benefitting off of each other for a multitude of mismatched reasons.

"my husband and i are claiming the plains and the herd there." her words served as an explanation and a warning. should he refuse any offer that might swing his way, it would be made exceedingly clear to steer away from the golden pasture and it's protected herd.

"you cut a fine figure," or at least from what she could tell he did. "we could use someone with your physique." the larger the body, the easier it might be to bring down one of the beasts.

she imagined that even the weak and old of the herd were like hell to hunt.

they were playing a game. what kind of game, masa isn't sure of. he straightens his posture as he thinks. her compliments bounce off him; words he's heard time and time again. but he is not so egotistical to let those words lead him.

we could use someone.
he assumes part of the deal being offered is shelter and community. home.

if i am to join, it is not for home. i cannot promise my allegiance would be permanent. he's clear, careful to not imply he would join.

he was not searching for a home, and she did not fault him in this. it was in a similar way to how she had considered morningsong — for mutual benefit.

"so long as you pull your weight, you can stay for as little or as long as you'd like." she did not desire loyalty as much as she desired good work ethic. laziness was not to be tolerated.

she assumed by the time he would disperse that yellowstone would be well established and with children either on their way, or having already arrived. the amount of time he may spend amongst them did not matter nearly as much as the effort he put in during his stay.

he nods. masa has decided.

i'll join you, then. he stares at his new employer. 
the advantage given to him is far too seductive to overlook. he'll work for this pack for as long as he needs to. 
and then, when the wind calls, he'll go.

a smile and approving nod given to his answer. another body to count towards their numbers.

"i'll introduce you to to my husband, @Arktos, when we arrive at the plains." she left him room to gather anything he might have to bring with and then when ready, would lead him towards the rolling golden fields of her home.

she speaks of her husband, and then waits for him.

he would not need to bring much besides whatever he had caught to eat for himself. he joins her soon after, embracing the fog.

masa will have his target's head in no time.