Hushed Willows Amid a Crashing World

Out he rode, through verdant tree and smoken air. Upon his steed he roamed. Bow and Gun strewn 'pon his back.
Outlaw moved with quiet precision; reared the beast with every hoof-step and earth-scuff. And as he did go, he waved to his family—his gang. His friends. His lady. Their boy, who looked to his father so eagerly.
Of whom whistled a tune as he went.

It was in single thunderclap, struck akin to that of lightning as he gasped, brought forth; awoken, as if from a nightmare. Laced in sweat, as one should be, if such had occurred. But this  man woke from no nightmare—but a life once lived.
A life, long gone, and yet, remembered. Cherished so dearly.

His wife, his son; he remembered it all so clearly, however, it slipped. Slipping, slipping, like the sun downwards of the sky, pouring wineblood and inking the sky in shadow and star and moon. Gone, as quickly as it came, and yet still he tried to hold—hold tight, hold fast, screamed, cried his mind. But perhaps he was too late.
He knew nought but his own name. Barrett. Barrett Ward. Something of this struck a cord, deep and familiar within him. He looked up; breathed in the air, stuck his paws—paws? No time for that—into the earth.
Shining emerald, as if unaffected by the seasonal change of the lands. A whisper of a place; the home of fairytales, such as those he would tell to... someone. Someone, long ago. He struggled to push a breath past the lump in his throat.

His first instinct was to move. So, move he would. Let his body guide him. The breeze and its' persuasiveness. Cleared his throat. Careful not to be too loud. On guard, and yet, not entirely unwelcoming of strangers.
Could use some directions 'round here, afterall.

She didn't remember it, but she'd lived here once, had been born under these very willows. For all that this place had been formative in her earliest months, however, the passage of time had erased it from her memory. Here and now, it was nothing but a pretty woodland in the mountains.

Foxglove was charmed, though. Charmed enough to dance beneath the willows, humming breathless fragments of half-remembered songs from her girlhood. She was so wrapped up in her own little world, she hardly noticed the other wolf in the woods. Not even when she veered closer. Not even when he cleared his throat.

Until, all at once, she did see him — and promptly shrieked, tripped over her own paws, and tumbled to the ground in a flailing tangle of limbs.

Stranger, he saw, golden n' pretty-looking. Lil' thing. Looked like she—he? hm—could hold her own, though. Dog-lookin' thing, but, as Barrett thought, now, he supposed the same could be said about himself.
Dancin' n' hummin'. He watched her carefully, brows drawn together.

Nearly fell into him. Man huffed, quiet smirk tugging at his lips. A shriek, and a jumble of limbs upon the grassen floor. Tangled like hair in a cobweb. Near-shudder at the thought of spiders. Quickly, he went to comment:
You good there, girl? sarcastic chuckle lining the gravel that was his tone.

Ain't 'gon bite ya, hun, in fact, he moved to help her, should she accept such aid. And once she eventually resurfaced, he would ask:
—but, you know where we're at, exactly? He gestured to the trees that surrounded them. Green and glowing and gorgeous.
Sirens' den. Maybe that's why all was... lost. Odd void within.

Limbs tangling, pink toes splayed and scrabbling in the dirt, Foxglove flipped onto her back just in time to fix wide dark eyes on the stranger. He was no dull sight, all dusky-furred and woodland wrought. Dazed, she blinked and let the man help her to her feet. A blush crept down the tips of her ears and over her cheeks.

Good? I - yeah, I'm - fine! She hated the way her voice pitched just a little higher. But what could she do? Foxglove swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder briefly, as if to check and make sure they were still in the same willow forest. Apparently it wasn't as familiar to the man as it was to her. S'just the mountains...? She turned her gaze back to the man, her tone uncertain. Coast's that way, if ya want. Valley's that way. Fox gestured with her nose, first north and then east to indicate the directions she knew.

And then south... Oh, desert's that way. That answer your question? She cocked her head to one side, curious.

He gave a chuckle of a breath at her seemingly erratic behaviour. Mountains. Coast. Valley. Desert. None of which were quite the answer he was looking for. A placename had been his intention, but, nonetheless, he was sure he could work with this. He gave a brief nod of his head, asking: You from 'round here, lil' thing?
He drew in the air threw his nose. No gang smell, at least, not one that was strong enough to solidify any sort of recent claim. But he was sure these lands were to be full of others. People, like him? Or... the beast that he now was?
But he turned away from the thought and instead focused on the ginger girl. Looking for an answer between those dark, almond-like eyes. Wine-dark gaze searching that of the strangers. Surely this kid wouldn't be out without a parent.
Or, at the very least, a friend, huh?

Her ears flushed hotter than ever. Little, he called her! I'm almost two, She corrected with a bit of bite to her voice, ears slicking back against her skull. And yeah, I'm from around here. Well, kinda. My family's nomads.

I know these parts real well, if you're tryin' to get somewhere, Foxglove added after a moment, her tone softening somewhat. She cast another fond glance around the willow forest. My mama always says the mountains here are hard on travelers. Prettier than other mountains, though.

So she had some fire, the man realised. His brows raised, a smirk growing on his face. Easy, spitfire, he said, giving a flick of his tail. That's my bad, huh? Almost two. So you're a big girl, then? There was no ridicule or mocking behind his tone. Banter, as he intended it to be. Nonetheless, ever amusing to the outlaw.
Not tryna get anywhere specifically, he revealed. Just tryna feel my way 'round, if that makes sense, gave a nod towards where the valley was said to be. You got any idea what's out that way? Other folks, maybe? A town, a settlement, perhaps. But at the mention of mountains, he said: Well, maybe I oughtta check 'em out sometime, he chuckled. If they're so beautiful.
He'd commit them to memory. Maybe this girl, too.

Yeah, a real big girl with real big teeth, Fox shot back with a toothy smirk. Her tone hadn't entirely lost its edge, but her dark eyes glinted playfully. She flicked an ear when he gestured in the direction of the valley. Her gaze followed his gesture and lingered there, as if she could see beyond the thicket of willow trees to the vast expanse beyond.

Used to be more people, she said slowly, a hint of melancholy tinging the words. More packs. Kvarsheim. Swiftcurrent Creek. It's real quiet round there now, but some folks are still kickin' up dust that way. Party's moved on, though. I think it's more lively out west these days.

And that toothy grin was all he needed to see to smile widely at the girl. A chuckle shook his shoulders. That's good, he thought. It was nice to make the kids laugh.
But, it was quick that her tone changed, and so his smile, too, suddenly dropped. More lively out west, she said, but something within told him to head west. Find something. Someone, maybe. But still, he would linger for just a while. Said:
Did... somethin' happen with 'em? Had a kid, once. Had that tone. To comfort. Softened his face. Dipped his head. You doin' okay? Because, as much as she was nearly full-grown, she was still just a girl, in his eyes. Reminded him of something.
Someone. Long gone.

Oh, she hated that. The way his tone turned all soft and careful, all stuffed with feathers and fur like she might break under the sound of a firm voice. Fox bristled a little without quite realizing it, her blonde furs fluffing up.

What's it to you? She grumbled, ears flicking, gaze darting away. She didn't need his pity or whatever. Foxglove took a half-step back, shook her furs out, and turned to face westward for a moment. They left. These things happen. I'm heading down south anyway, s'warmer out there. Warmer and golden and filled with memories of her family, but she couldn't say that to a stranger. Maybe not to anyone at all.

Fucked up. That's what he did. She was a big girl, afterall. Hell, hardly a girl at all, 'least, she thought so. She said so. Barrett let out a breath. Wouldn't stop her—not his move, but, at the very least, would make his tracks obvious, just in case, for whatever reason, she needed someone to follow.
Still just a kid, in his eyes. Just wanna make sure you stay safe, spitfire, he said. Get yer sun down there, and he did not want to upset her further, so he gave her a nod. Would be the one to let her move first. Watch as she went. Wanted to make sure that she would be okay. Not that she needed him, no, not at all. Just... the feeling of nostalgia.
Reminded him... of himself.

you're free to end with your next or keep it going if she's got anything left to say to this big doofus!! thank you so much for my first thread <3

He didn't leave, but she sensed the retreat in his words. Foxglove had expected as much. These things happen. She spared him one last glance, lips parting slightly as if she meant to say something more. But she didn't. She just left.

It wouldn't occur to her until later that she hadn't even gotten his name, hadn't even given her own. It wouldn't occur to her until much, much later that maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe she was lonely after all. Maybe she did need a stranger's pity. But by then it would be too late, of course. She'd chosen, as she always had, to chase the horizon.