Wapun Meadow Sweet Melody

Milana would not wander far from her new home. She had never liked to wander on her own.

The meadow held a small, nameless creek that had caught her attention. She sat next to the water now, paws tucked underneath her as she looked into the water.

She could see frogs in the water, tail waving as she watched them swim. The creatures were always rather cute in her eyes - in an ugly sort of way. So long as they kept their distance, of course. It was not necessarily the Milan feared the creatures but.. they were just so slimy.

White paws thundered against the earth, carrying him forwards. He'd eventually circle back to Swiftcurrent, but right now he wanted to wander, just until Akavir arrived, as Lestan had said he would. Frederick carried his head low, relaxed, letting his tail swish across the plantlife of the meadow.

The trickling of a stream made the mans' ears flick, and the scent of another caught his attention. Rearing his head, his eyes scanned the meadow for the stranger, and noticed a woman swathed in shades of brown, black, white. Slowly, Frederick approached. He let out a soft woof, announcing his presence to the woman as not to startle her.

When he drew closer, he spoke. Hello, he said, voice low, almost quiet in a relaxed manner. He looked from the woman who sat beside the stream to the rest of the meadow, then to the sky. You picked a good day to relax. Frederick met blue eyes, smiling.

Her ears flicked up to the sound of another, her eyes soon following. She stared momentarily; that was one gigantic wolf, that's for sure. She seemed to sink into herself as she tore her eyes away, instead looking to the river and glancing upwards from there. That was what she had been taught was polite.

"It is a nice day, isn't it?" Her last chance to enjoy the flowers before the winter came, killing off the pretty plants and covering them with snow. The winter was never her friend. What did the frogs do during winter? She could never know such things, of course.

She wondered where the man came from. She had little knowledge of the surrounding packs, so she only had one assumption. "Have you come from Bearclaw Valley as well?"

Frederick felt like his skin was prickling under his fur as he was eyed. Though outwardly, one would have to be incredibly perceptive to pick up on just how deeply he disliked being stared at. But, he supposed, as he took in the sight of the woman in front of him, he did seem to be quite a bit bigger than her. He hoped he hadn't scared her. Trotting a few paces forward, to the riverbank, he settled in a spot a few ways in front of her. Facing her, though not too close as to not over-step.

Bearclaw Valley? He hummed, with a curious tilt of his head. Now he, too, was looking into the water, the light from the sun shining down into the stream and reflecting into blue-green eyes. A pack or a place? Either way, no, I haven't. I've simply been wandering. For a moment, he dipped his paw into the water, but pulled it back when a frog swam a little too close for his liking. Are you from there, stranger?

She offered a nod, realizing she should introduce herself when she was called 'stranger'. "Yes - a pack I recently joined, but a place as well I suppose." Her eyes followed as the man sat down, only briefly looking back to the water. "My name is Milana, by the way. Sorry, I should have introduced myself sooner."

They had only just begun speaking, she realized. Maybe an apology was not necessary. Her mother would have scolded her if she hadn't, of course. It was only habit.

It was about time that she began breaking her habits. A new pack meant a new life.

Another pack, he nodded thoughtfully. Swiftcurrent and Kvarsheim--told to him by Lestan--and now, Bearclaw Valley. That was three packs already, all in one area, no less. Who knew how many others there might be? No need to apologise, Milana. I've only just sat down, he spoke with a laugh, hoping to comfort the lady. I'm Frederick. It's a pleasure to meet you. And his tone, genuine.

Flicking his tail rather nonchalantly, the goliath hummed, paws gently fussing with the soil and grass beneath them. Are you pondering something--may I ask?--sitting by the stream like this, and all. Or are you just here to rest? With the upcoming winter, he supposed it would be worth it to savour the beauty of the lands before it was all blanketed with snow. Perhaps then this place would start to feel like home. Hm.

The man, Frederick, asked a question that she herself was unsure she knew the answer to. "I'm trying to acclimate myself, I suppose." She said, pausing momentarily. "This is my first time joining a pack - I feel I should become less fearful."

Yes, that felt right. It was a relaxing walk, of course, but she still felt a looming sense of dread. A need to look over her shoulder. Though sitting here talking like this she found the feeling to be much less prevalent.

Milan had never understood why she grew so nervous when stepping outside of the comfort of her den - it was not something influenced. The fear had grown over time on it's own.

"And you?"

It's alright to be nervous, Frederick pointed out. As long as you don't let such a feeling get the best of you. Have faith in your packmates, as they will look out for you. At least, that's what he had learnt from his home pack. To have trust in others, and then they, too, will trust you. He remembered his aunt for a moment. Her trust allowed him to escape. Lottie. He hoped she was okay.

Then, the flow of conversation was redirected onto him, and Frederick shuffled. I'm searching for someone, he said. Quite vaguely, too. There's a pack, Swiftcurrent Creek, and I believe that they may have information as to where he is. Normally, he wouldn't disclose his intentions so quickly: careful with who he believed he could and couldn't trust. But this girl exuded a shy, weary demeanor, and Frederick didn't think she'd be fond of his loud, over-confident brother.

Anyhow, he shook his head. Forgive me for over-sharing. In truth, you're one of the few I have yet to meet in these lands. May I consider you a friend, Milana? I won't be offended if you say 'no'. A point that was proven by a cheeky, almost charismatic grin. Toothy, but not in a threatening way.

She nodded carefully as he spoke, ever the active listener. He was searching for someone - she felt sympathy for such a situation, silently hoped that he would find them soon.

He asked his own question, and she found herself rather surprised. A friend certainly sounded nice. "Yes - you will be my first friend in the Teekons, Frederick." She made the decision with a smile, her tail beginning to wave gently.

"But you'll have to visit me, yes? That's what friends do." She seemed to be teasing, gently of course. But she did hope they could continue to speak like this in the future.

His invitation newly accepted, Frederick couldn't help but grin, tail waving similarly. Another friend from these lands, the Teekons, she said, which he silently filed in the library of his mind as the name of these regions. Most certainly, I'll visit you, Milana. He did hope that she found friends amongst her packmates, too. Such a woman didn't deserve to feel lonely within her own home.

We're friends, so feel free to call me Fred, if you like. when he'd offered the nickname to another before, he had been declined, so he wondered if the woman would take it. And, when he thought back to Lestan, he figured he could make another offer: And I may be at the creek for a while--Swiftcurrent Creek. Your leaders may know of them, so if you wish to visit me, I'll be there.

Pushing himself up, Frederick peered into the stream for a moment. He wasn't particularly keen on eating frog. Are you hungry? He asked the woman. Perhaps I could catch you something, he sniffed the air for a moment, hunt scent somewhere nearby. Finally..! --As a token of our new friendship. The man smiled rather invitingly, his tail continuing to sway in a raised position.

She was glad when her offer was accepted, tail continuing to wave. "My friends used to call me Milan, so you can call me that if you would like." She offered her own nickname in return to his.

She noted the pack he mentioned - 'Swiftcurrent Creek'. Maybe she would ask Ameline about them later - see if she knew of them.

A meal did sound nice, but a free meal was even better. She pushed herself to her paws, finding that even standing up next to him the man was still a hulk. "Sure, as long as it isn't too much trouble for you." She decided. Milan had never been much of a hunter herself, so it would be best to leave it up to him.

She would need to get her own gift for him afterwards - for their next meeting.

Milan, he dipped his head. A lovely name.

He watched as she stood, taking note of just how severe their size difference was. Frederick eyed her for a moment, before returning his nose to the air. Deer nearby, he noticed. Probably a few ways west. No trouble at all, Milan, he hummed, starting to walk. He flicked his tail, a silent call for her to follow. There are deer up ahead. Is that alright with you? Perhaps she didn't eat deer, for whatever reason. And if she didn't, Frederick would find something else. Almost a people-pleaser.

Frederick began to walk, and naturally she would follow. It had been some time since she last ate deer. "Of course. Can you really take down a whole deer on your own, though?" The question was not asked out of doubt, but rather genuine concern. She had seen more than a few wolves taken down by deer in her time.

Then again, the man was a giant. She could see why he may not have trouble taking down a deer.

It took only three of our men, my father and I included, to take down the chief caribou, he stated, somewhat matter-of-factly, though far from bragging. He remembered the feast they'd had that night. Though the meal did not go without its gratitude, instead proving as the leverage a young caribou would need to assume guardianship of the herd. A deer is much smaller. And with winter coming, it may be weak. The man trotted along after the scent, eyes focused, scanning.

It only took a few moments for him to find the prey: three females, sectioned off into a smaller group for the fall. He slowed, watching them, carefully. One appeared to have a limp, and Frederick took notice. There was no time for being weak out in the wild, as anything could be used against you. In a hushed whisper, he spoke: You see the one limping? He said. That is our lunch. So, forwards he stalked, trying to get as close as possible before making chase.

Milan stayed back, crouched in the grass watching the man with clear admiration. She was always much better suited to life within the packs settlement; caring for the pups and elderly, offering advice where she could. But she had always admired the hunters.

How was it that they could feed a whole pack within a day or two? She was unsure, but she was certainly grateful for it left room for wolves like her.

Soon, the winds would change, and his scent would be revealed to the deer, startling them and causing them to run. But virescent eyes remained locked on to the injured ungulate, and eventually, he sprung from the grasses, snapping jaws meeting the already weakened leg of the creature. It cried out, but Frederick remained strong, planting his paws firmly against the ground. It bucked against him, and the man released as to duck the sharp hooves. Then, it ran, and he followed suit.

Whether Milan would follow after him or remain in the grasses was unknown to him as he chased. When it slowed, he'd latch on. When it sped, he too would run. The other two deer sprinted with all their might, outrunning their weaker comrade. It was unfortunate, but it was what they would have to do to survive. Abandoning those that slowed them down--was that what Adrian had thought?

Frederick wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. Widening his angle, he herded the deer back towards the stream, canine teeth piercing into the back of the creature, small fawn-hued hairs falling upon his nose. The ungulate reared against him, but he held strong. Slowly, it started to struggle, and Frederick was quick to de-latch from the creature's side to its' neck, dragging it down, watching its' eyes go cloudy.

When it fell still, Frederick scanned the meadow for his new friend, calling her over with a loud, echoing 'woof'. He'd wait for her presence before he begun eating.

Milan rose out of the grasses at his call, trotting towards the man. He had made the hunt look easy - now she definitely hoped to see him return. She couldn't help it as her tail waved; this would be a pleasant meal.

"You made quick work of it." She smiled, bumping her shoulder into Frederick's flank as she joined him. A rare gesture of affection. She knew now not too worry about him the next time they did now.

Looking over the creature, an idea popped into her head. "Would you mind if I kept the pelt?" She asked, looking up to her companion. She planned to make use of it; maybe more of the carcass as well, if it sparked her interest.

He smiled at her blatant compliments. Caribou skin is much tougher, he explained. Their fur and their flesh were thick due to the low temperature. So deer is much easier in comparison. Lucky, too, for this one to be weak already. He flicked his tail towards the woman as she nudged her shoulder into him, a return of the affection.

Of course, do what you like with it. Just make sure you eat, Frederick watched the woman carefully, waiting for her to take the first bite before he would. Good manners, and all that. I caught it for you, remember? His tone was gentle, teasing, accompanied by a smile, too.

She appeared immediately pleased when the man agreed, though she was surprised that he was waiting for her to eat first. As the hunter it only felt right for him to take the first bite. But, Milan was never one to argue.

Teeth carefully sinking in to the stomach of the deer, she meticulously tore the pelt before pushing through to begin eating. She would preserve it the best she could. Some rips and tears here and there were alright, so long as she could take the small portion she needed. If there was more left over she would use it to make resources for BearClaw.

Silently, she ate, and Frederick noticed how she seemed to eat around the pelt, perserving it. Frederick did the same, gently slicing through the layer that connected the flesh to the fur and pushing it back before sinking his fangs into the meat. A satisfactory kill. One that he might find himself visiting later on, should a predator not get to it first.

He ate for a little while before licking his lips, sitting back, and watching the woman for a few more moments, observing. Slowly, he broke the silence. What's your favourite meal? His tone an idol hum, asides from the slight joke that came next: Hopefully deer. He stood, trotting around the deer so that he could sit on the other side of her, face-to-face. The polite thing to do, he thought.

Her stomach satisfied, she lifted her head and licked her lips clean. "Oh I've never been picky." She responded with a gentle laugh. "Though deer are definitely nice. Much better than the rodents I've been eating lately."

"I never had much say in what I ate, so I've learned not to complain." She did not appear bothered by the statement, her tail waving gently. "But the more use I can get out of the carcass, the more I like the animal."

A bigger meal was definitely better than those consisting of mice or voles. He nodded his head in understanding. While a rodent-on-the-road was a nice snack, there really was nothing better than a grown ungulate. However, it was what she said next that somewhat concerned him. When he was young, he remembered his brother vying for a meal of berries and fish, and it was given to him. Frederick, too, enjoyed bird every now and then when he was younger. To have no choice over what you consumed was strange to the snow-swathed goliath. He hummed.

You're resourceful, which was somewhat strange to the man, but nonetheless--A good trait to have. Your packmates will find that useful, you know. Briefly, his mind wandered back to their earlier conversation. How she'd been nervous about her new pack. He looked down to the brown pelt, fussing with the fur, though being careful as to not damage it. What are you going to use the pelt for?

She felt a sense of pride at the compliment. She had never been told she was resourceful. "I'm unsure - I will need to see what BearClaw already has. A pelt can be used for many things so long as you prepare it correctly." It was not the complete truth, but she refused to spoil her surprise. With her explanation out of the way, she got to work tearing away at the rest of the pelt. The sight of bare muscle was a bit unsettling, but technically no different than what you see when the creature is bitten into.

It was a skill she learned in her birth pack. Taught by her mother and other female packmates, she had picked up on it quickly. Milan knew she was not the best hunter, nor the strongest in battle - but this? This she was good at.

Federick was a fine hunter, yes. Even a good combatant, should it be required. But when it came to strength, most of his advantage came from his size. Something like this--a specific, learnt skill... Well, he found it interesting. Unique. He settled himself down, tucking his paws beneath him and watching as Milan worked the pelt. He hummed when she spoke, watching almost eagerly. His tail swished and swayed behind him, and he hoped that his laser-focus and clear interest would be enough to prompt her to continue. When did you start working pelts? He murmured, intrigue shimmering behind sky-washed eyes. Curious...

She hummed when the question was asked, taking a moment to consider it. "I can't remember, really.. my mother taught me when I was quite young." She said, eyes breathly flicking to the ivory furred man. "I was pretty squeamish, so I'm surprised I took to it so well."

"It sort of just.. became my role." She missed home for a moment as she said it. But no, leaving had been for the best. "I don't mind though - it's fun for me."

There was a clear passion for the work as she spoke. Something she had gained from her less desirable origins, the only piece of it that she was still willing to hold onto.