Nocturne Summit stardust

counting this toward a scout trade!
aw btw <3

The wind here had teeth.
It swept across the broad, dark summit like a breath held by the mountains, slipping over the stones in cold, patient sighs. Though spring reigned beyond the peaks, the sun had never claimed them; its touch was blocked by the towering crowns encircling the plateau, their silhouettes sharp against the starlit sky.
Aneira stood near the edge, her breath a silver thread in the chill night air. Shadows pooled at her feet, and the frostbitten silence wrapped around her like a familiar cloak. She had heard of the quarry from Solharr; of stone that did not lie, and wolves who bore burdens like old armor. Her turquoise eyes traced the stars above, as if reading omens in their glint. The silence stirred memories; promises unkept, strongholds fallen, the weight of things once believed to be unbreakable.
Perhaps it was time. Her paw shifted on the stone, dust scattering like ash; perhaps the quarry was not a place, but a question. She would find it soon, but not tonight.

Home had fallen. Haedwig had seen it in the waters, heard it in the crackle of branches, she knew it would come.

The first to leave, she had delivered a strict message to the three who had appeared to her, the three who would escape when the cursed day came. When the time was right they would join her in the land promised to them.

Now old bones walked through plains, darted through forests, and climbed the peaks of mountains. When she had reached the creek, she would know.

A figure stood ahead. Old eyes squinted, struggling to see the light figure through the dark. A stranger, not one of her own. That much she knew.

glad you joined <3

The pale she-wolf held her ground, posture still as the stone she’d crossed to reach this place. The figure ahead was aged, unfamiliar; foreign to the rhythm of this land, yet standing as if summoned by something unseen. Aneira's turquoise eyes narrowed, not out of hostility, but sharp instinct. She did not give her name, nor did she ask for theirs; at least for now. 
Her voice, when it came, was level and clear, quiet, but not soft. „You’ve come far. Why here?” A simple question, edged with caution, like a blade sheathed in snow. The frost maiden did not move closer, did not lower her guard; only watched, the silence around her as much a shield as her distance.

Glad to be here!

The stranger speaks. Haedwig knows that she has no time for conversation, but her legs beg for her to stop. She decides to sit, but only for a moment.

Questions are something she rarely entertains, not even for the court, but she is far too tired to argue a stranger. To lead my pack. She grunted out the answer. It was brief, but technically the truth. I pass through, and they will come when the time is right.

She would not speak specifics with a stranger. It would not be right.

Her ears twitched faintly at the answer, but she made no move to press further. The old woman’s weariness was carved into her bones, plain enough for any who had the eyes to see. So the frostmaiden remained still, her expression unreadable beneath the pale veil of her fur, only the faintest breeze tugging at the silence between them.
„Then may the time meet you gently,” she said at last, her voice low and measured, „And the path stay open long enough for them to follow.” She did not ask who they were, nor what the pack might be. It wasn’t her place; and it was clear enough the stranger wouldn’t answer.
Her gaze drifted briefly to the distant treeline, as though already preparing to vanish into it, but also memorizing them. Yet she lingered, just a moment longer, watching, listening, measuring the silence more than the words.

Watching the stranger with a hard gaze, she opened her mouth to speak once more. Who are you? A simple question for some, but one Haedwig knew carried a far heavier answer more often than not. For those who knew to analyze it, at least.

She was not a friendly woman in the least, but grew uncomfortable in the silence of strangers. Silence provided a false sense of calm, despite the lashing of claws and snapping of teeth remaining a looming threat.

Turquoise gaze held steady, unreadable, as if weighing the worth of the question itself. Only the whisper of wind moved between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, quiet, measured;
„Some call me Aneira,” she offered, the name given without embellishment, as one might lay down a stone. Her gaze did not falter, her tone was calm, clipped, but not cold.
A beat passed before she added, „And you? Who are you to ask?” The words weren’t a challenge, but they weren’t soft either; just quiet, careful, like a foot placed before thin ice. Her posture remained still, poised, not unfriendly, but far from open.

Haedwig. She responded. A prophet of Corax. Not that it should mean anything to a stranger. The witch then yawned, rising back to a stand. She should be looking to continue on her way once more.

Stretching out old, creaking legs, she began the slow movement west. Good luck to you Aneira, in whatever you may be pursuing. She gave her earnest goodbye, glancing up at the stars momentarily before making her exit.

A strange encounter, but not an unpleasant one in the least. It was a good omen for things to come, she decided.

Aneira remained still for a moment, her gaze lingering on the witch as she rose and stretched. Her thoughts were brief, considering the cryptic words about Corax. She had heard whispers of Gods in passing, but no more than that. The figure of Haedwig, so sure and strange, had piqued her curiosity, though she knew better than to ask too many questions, not yet anyway.
She did not respond immediately, as the witch spoke her last words and began moving on. Instead, Aneira let her quiet gaze track the woman’s retreating form, the wind tugging at her fur.
Corax...
Her curiosity, however, did not show itself outwardly. Instead, her voice, as low as the wind in the trees, carried with it a measured calm. „I will remember that name.” Her words were soft, thoughtful, and tinged with a quiet resolve. She did not intend to speak of this again, not for a long while. It was a piece of knowledge to settle in her mind and unravel itself in time, when the moment was right.
With a flick of her tail, Aneira turned, moving in the opposite direction from where the witch had gone. There was always something to learn, something to discover. But tonight, she would wait. The moon above, the one the witch had glanced at, had its own language; and Aneira was patient enough to listen when the time came.