Qeya River crudo

all welcome!

silvertongue swore, and loudly. the hare she had been stalking along the river had seen her too quickly; she had been forced to run with healing, milk-filled body. slowed, awkward, silvertongue finally stopped, shouting angrily after the creature as if that would help. she leant against a tree, watching fat feathered ptarmigan dance and flutter too far away for her to consider running right now.

Redd’s interest in the new strangers had grown.  Yet she had not known how to pursue it constructively.  Their claim was new, yet their presence strong.  She skirted their markings as a ghost before stepping in only a short ways, her demeanor inquisitive and open.  She would present no threat but wished to see.

She did not need to travel far.  A rabbit, flushed, streaked past.  It was too panicked to realize it ran from one death to another; the snap was pure instinct.  Redd could not have prevented herself even if she had tried.

Cursing followed it.  Now with a gift, Redd stepped into view, dropping the kill the moment she spotted the other and stepping back, patiently keeping distance.

She did not wish a fight.  Their claim was in no danger, but she wanted to know these wolves who would be neighbors.

On Mulherin's advice he had stopped "trying to track one-thousand-year-old deer" and instead had taken to trailing packmates, scouring the telltale marks and scents which scaffolded someone's transient presence.

Perhaps it was his fondness for Redd that he continued to seek her even as she broke the border of the Rise, her path bold and eastward.

But here her scent grew dispersed and her pawprints muddled.

Stumped, he was about to head back until the violent rustle of undergrowth alerted him, the noise coming from deeper in the bush. His cautious approach rewarded him with a glimpse of Redd, her coloring unmistakable. He immediately brightened, barking a pleasant note of greeting -- but he followed her steady gaze downstream, where there stood a sterling stranger.

woohoo! thanks for joining <3

not one, but two wolves materialized, it seemed, the moment that she turned from catching her breath. they were both young, but more powerfully built than herself. the silence offered by both unnerved silvertongue, though wolfish instinct registered the quiet as diplomacy. had they wished to attack, already it would have been done. the woman was crimson-pointed and pretty, with watchful eyes. the man was wide-shouldered and blonde, a scar twisting an otherwise rather matching expression. a dead rabbit lay newly on the ground. silvertongue offered the pair a practiced, inviting smile. "we are riverclan, for now. we come from the valley. i am silvertongue." surely she was no threat, unless the fact that she clearly had borne recent young presumably close to their claim would be rightfully seen as such. "my wife wren and i, we seek peace. the valley is growing more and more crowded. the taiga was open, mis amigos."

There was no fear.  Redd took her scent affably as she approached, never encroaching too close, her tail low and swinging with a friendly humility.  She was not Wealda here.  The woman smelled of milk and the odors of young.  They protected children; she noted this, then stepped back, knowing she would venture no further.  She did not wish to infringe on a mother’s defense.

Gavrel drew a warm glance and a quieter woof of acknowledgement, but her focus was here.  We are nearby, she replied then, dispensing the formalities.  She had little skill as an ambassador.  I wanted to know who settled.  It was a simple and honest explanation; pure curiosity had driven her, nothing else.  The plains were wide and this ground was not their hunting land.  There was no threat in this pack towards the rise.

She listened for the sound of Gabriel’s approach without turning her head, and instead dipped to nose the rabbit forward.  Yours.

It was an (ineloquent) recognition of their claim.  She would not hunt their lands.

The stranger spoke. Gavrel had been around the reticent Rise wolves for long enough that it was a culture shock when the words came freely, touched by a pleasant accent he could not place. She might as well have been reciting a clarion canto.

He let Redd lead the interaction. In this liminal territory she was still different from Wealda. He wondered how many clothes she wore, and how she did this without an inkling of a politician's disingenuousness.

How many of you are there? He finally asked, trying to envision the group helmed by the silvered woman, and Wren, who was her wife. Idly, he imagined that she would bring with her a flock of songbirds.

the smiling lips cooled, though the welcome did not drop. she was far too much a polished courtesan for that. "three mothers. several newborns. a couple of infants. a yearling girl. a man." would they make her number the babies? that interest would chill her gut; silvertongue forced herself to trust herself, to breathe. and as she numbered them, she realized she had no protection at all, that she had placed them all at the mercy of this visibly powerful pack with more numbers, if the wind was to be correct. but why lie? silvertongue's glassblue eyes slid between the two as her heart raced. "who are you, can i ask?" she tried to remain firm, wanting to shrink, to flee, to raise an alarm, and all for motherhood. not for any threat offered by the two. it was as if the lack of visible violence forced a worse terror.

Now there was fear.  Redd wondered if it was Gavrel’s proximity, that one had become two.  Yet he did nothing to intimidate.  She understood the protectiveness of a mother but she could not truly understand the mind.  All that she knew she had observed.

So few adults and so many pups.  Redd wondered distantly how many would survive.  It was the way of the wilderness; one adult could perhaps watch many children, but to feed them would take much strength.  The thought echoed her worries and recent ruminations well.

She did not think she needed to state this.  But now Wealda had a thought, and both head and tail lifted momentarily, though she remained at her distance.  The Rise,  she answered, her tail flicking towards the distant shape of it.  It was not visible here, but it would plainly be once one left the cover of the trees.  We have hunters.  

She did not elaborate, but if desperation came upon them, this woman would remember.  The Rise perhaps would not wish for recruits who placed themselves so precariously in the first place, but Redd found herself strangely softened.  She did not wish to see children starve, even if the current children of the Rise would always be first.  If the time came, it would be decided then.

I am Wealda.  This stated, her display ended, and she was once more a visitor in another’s space.  There were many things she wished to know, but none of the questions were present now.  Perhaps this other would seek to know more of them.  Yet Redd would not linger overly long; her curiosity had been (mostly) sated.

Riverclan seemed to be clustered around a brood of mothers and only one man, implying many children besides. He winced, correctly guessing that his inquiry had dug dangerously close to sensitive information.

He had not considered that the Rise had made him more tacit and therefore lent a certain edge to his bearing, his words becoming more spare and less cushioned by the umms and ahhs that had been so common in his diction before.

So he was surprised at their new neighbor's consternation, and even cast a quick glance around himself, wondering if there was anything to be scared of.

But it was just the three of them and the rabbit. The realisation struck him, belated.

And I'm Gavrel, he offered after Redd's introduction, this time with an effort to soften his voice, to make it like a clasp of warm hands. Riverclan is welcomed.

Would she believe it?

the rise. silvertongue was not sure where this was, but she would find out. the man warmed her next; the sensitive ears lifted. riverclan eyes regarded the risewolves with something new, not quite trust but respect, certainly. the subtle power in the red-point woman's bearing was also recognized, noted. "we are healers," silvertongue offered, seeing her own clan's deep need of hunters but not wanting to be fully at the mercy of strange wolves, no matter how friendly. "wealda, gavrel. perhaps we can work out an exchange, if you do not have any healers of your own." it was a gamble. most did. "healers — and witches." and most did not know what to do with that, but now silvertongue moved velvet cards both on offer, wanting so badly to take a smooth report back to wren.

the timing is impeccable, omg.  Tag for visibility ^^

If Redd believed in fate, then she might have thought this moment written by it.  Instead she enjoyed silent satisfaction at the stoke of good luck.  She had unknowingly followed her curiosity to the resolution of a question.  Wealda felt immense satisfaction knowing she could return with an answer to offer.

One wants to learn.  If you will teach.  She left that to linger, waiting patiently for a confirmation or a rejection to come.  @Carrion was Ulfr; she could provide for them in return.  Redd could assist as well if this was not enough, though she would not offer more than they could easily spare.  It felt in some ways strange to offer even this much to those she did not claim, but Haelend was valuable.

It was not his place to speak; Redd, as Wealda, knew much more than he did about the ranks of the Rise, the dynamics between them. They were an extension of herself, a biological system spanning many bodies. But even as a relative newcomer, he had noticed the seeming lack of healers, of pupsitters.

An ear flicked back at the mention of witches. His curiosity was piqued, but he resolved to ask these questions later. On another visit to Riverclan once they stenciled in their borders, perhaps. For now he comfortably settled into the backseat of the exchange, watching Redd take the wheel with warm eyes.

:D!

the man was quiet. the woman spoke already of a pupil. silvertongue considered delaying until the pups were somewhat older, the thought propelled by age-old instinct of warding strange wolves from a den of infants. but they needed hunters now. she saw little other choice, and looked at them with clear eyes which said she wished to trust. "we will teach. send them," the sharpfang offered. it was work, but they had not been here long at all to have anything else. this must be their offering, at least until the former valleywolves found themselves in a better position to negotiate.

The visit had been more fruitful than she could have expected.  Redd acknowledged the words silently, then paused to add an uncustomary clarification.  They will come.  Haelend needed to know many things, and even if Carrion had other teachers in mind, there was value here.  It was not an opportunity worth passing by.

Her belief in the Rise’s strength was increased, as was her optimism for its future.  Both had been held warily since she had taken the helm, marred by the seeming misgivings that surrounded her stepping up.  Perhaps her fears were baseless. They still remained, only lessened.

Any further curiosity fled with the satisfaction of this outcome.  She remained, attuned to both of them and awaiting further inquiry.  She was ready to return word if not.

Exit for Gavrel, unless stopped :)

It was settled quickly. Much of the previous tension dissolved along with the closing of the deal -- at least, in his mind's eye.

Gavrel offered Silvertongue a languid wave of his tail in farewell as he turned back to the direction of the Rise, wondering what kind of healer Riverclan would send their way, and how it would influence -- if at all -- the tentative alliance between the two packs.

as soon as they had come, the two were gone. for a while silvertongue watched them go, and then she turned back toward the interior of their territory. @Wren and @Ash Star would be informed of the bargain she had struck, one of which she was quite proud. it boded well for them to make such a connection so early into their relocation.