Neverwinter Forest Lidet er om den mans vrede, som ingen vurder

thread title reads; "if you cannot bite, never show your teeth" // @Solharr ; @Callyope

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Mountain Daughter had thought for a whole of three seconds and decided she'd probably be better off finding companionship and learn the way of the pack from an outsider's perspective. After all, it was better to do ambassador work while young, no? Even if... she had no pack to speak of, she would! Eventually. And to do that, she hated to say it, but Raen would prefer a space to hone her craft before making her own world. Perhaps find some friends to assist her, as she had no mate of her own and had no plans on it. 

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Her mother's sharp tongue dulled while bound to a man, and Raen was determined to not do that. First things first, she couldn't go traipsing about some pack's territory like an absolute fool, so she instead did the next best thing - paced next to a particularly cold rock that rose slightly from the ground and howl every now and again.

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Nigh imposs'bl' ta get a good werd in, ain't it? she cursed to her gods and growled to herself, impatient, but too stubborn to leave without seeing a wolf's face that wasn't her own in a lake.

the woman's howl reached him, sharp against the stillness of the border. he was a figure of flame and frost, his single golden eye scanning the expanse with a practiced vigilance. he had been patrolling with purpose; the seasons of the women within forneskja loomed, drawing the attention of males who would need chasing off.

but it was not a man who lingered.

instead, his gaze landed on a lone woman, pacing near the edge of the land. her figure was sharp against the cold backdrop, her movements impatient, purposeful. he strode closer, his steps confident but not overly aggressive, and called out in his native tongue, a rough but warm greeting that echoed with authority.

skål.

he tilted his head, his voice carrying easily over the snow-laden ground. do you seek company, or a cause? his words, though firm, lacked hostility, his curiosity piqued by the stranger's boldness.

The woman faced her senior with a dipped head and airplaned ears, eyes seeing his chest and not his one sunlit eye. Her form large and covered in the shaggy, warm fur of a mountain-dweller, but not the bulk of one yet. Whatever quippy remark she'd had on her tongue vanished, and she felt intimidated by the man's imposing presence. He'd seen some things, that was for sure -- and for once the heiress of mountains and storms had her steadfast paws shake, however still she might have appeared. 

do you seek company, or a cause?

And man, could this guy give her words to chew on like a white-tail's antler. Talk less, smile more, honest and not oversharing to strangers. Her answer was thus extremely simple, her accent thick.

B'th.

both? he echoed, his tone neutral but edged with intrigue. he took a step closer, the crunch of snow beneath his weight a steady rhythm in the quiet. are you alone? no man behind?

his gaze swept past her for a moment, scanning the tree line, the rocks, the horizon beyond. his question, though softly spoken, carried the weight of a man who had learned to anticipate trouble. with the seasons of forneskja's women nearing, every stranger was met with the same wary calculation.

She nodded only once. T'ere no man yet t'at make a good mate fer me. I come with onlee me oun paws. 

It may have been that the faint whisp of packscent clung to her fur still, but she doubted it made a difference. 

Giant she was, but hardly a half grown yearling.

she was young, still green with the world’s sharp edges, but there was something in her words that intrigued him.

and what can you do? his voice carried low and steady, a challenge wrapped in curiosity. he shrugged, his massive frame moving with ease against the winter’s chill.

you bring only your paws. show me what they’re worth.

Wrapped in mountain's snow-capped visage, her head held as steadfast as her words. 

give me any task 'ou wan', an' I see i' t'roo. On me hon'r. Bred and raised where thunder was her lullaby, you learned right quick that you had to be as rugged as the mountainside. 

Especially if you were a girl. If she didn't know it, she'd learn.

single gaze swept over the woman, weighing her words with the steady patience of one accustomed to reading the strength behind claims. her resolve was clear, but in forneskja, words alone did not earn a place.

we need more than words, he said, his voice a low rumble. hunters. fighters. guardians. those who carry the weight of the pack on their backs.

he took a step closer, the winter’s breath curling between them. can you do this?

me teeth an' claws be forged in thunder and moun'in air. her eyes were summer sun and sky, steady and strong her gaze. 

'unters n' figh'rs survive in me 'omelind, me pack was nuun fer i'," or at least, the short-lived establishment wanted to. They never got the chance, really. "Prove me bite as good as me bark, me will."

your bite will be tested, then, sólhárr said, his tone gruff yet steady, as if the weight of the mountains themselves rested in his words. his golden eye bore into her, assessing the resolve etched in her frame and the fire in her gaze.

what is your name? he asked, the question direct and deliberate.

i am sólhárr, chieftain of forneskja, he continued, the title carrying the pride of his lineage, the strength of his ancestors. his tail gave a slight sway, a faint gesture of acknowledgment. you’ve come to a land that demands strength and loyalty. will you give both?

Her back straightened. Fire swirled in her two-toned gaze as easily as thundercloud swirled and danced in stormwind. Me name be Raen. 

The wolves here demanded strength and loyalty, the land too. 

The only thing different between here and home would be that she traded mountainside for forest. 

I giv' 'til da sky call me sool ta foll'w.

welcome, then, raen, sólhárr rumbled, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of his authority.

his steps were deliberate as he moved closer, his massive frame towering over hers. his single golden eye gleamed with approval as he observed her stance, the fire in her gaze. she carried herself with purpose, with strength.

without hesitation, he leaned in, his nose brushing against the fur of her neck. the scent of her was unfamiliar, raw, but soon it would carry the unmistakable mark of forneskja. sólhárr pressed his muzzle firmly against her, the warmth of his breath stirring the fur along her neck as he left his scent.

he pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto hers, his expression a mixture of finality and expectation. you are one of us now. prove yourself strong, and you will find your place here.

Wind and Sky were something her uncle had said many times held power over a wolf's paws. Raen had listened to his stories with eager eyes and bit breath as a child. In this moment, she believed that her breeze and the breeze of this wolf's was meant to cross, that she was meant for this. His breath felt like fire against the ice that had made itself home on her fur.

Forneskja. That was a mouthful, but she'd heard worse. Suppose she'd have to get used to speaking it.

I will.