Mudminnow River i raise my flag and i dye my clothes

Oh.. it made me sad writing this. :( AW, but thinking maybe @Bhreac would make it interesting.

He had first laid eyes upon her over a year ago. A lone wolf waiting upon the borders she had reigned in as Beta, she had greeted him and instantly caught his eye -- and at the time, she had been jealous of any attention even Fox had lavished upon him, during the fiery wolf's desire to seek the strongest male in her pack for mateship.

He had never wanted anyone else other than Bazi during those days, and he had been fueled by his own jealousies and the courtship antics Shadow had attempted with her.

And then, she had cracked under the pressure of taking over Swiftcurrent Creek, and fled, leaving him in charge. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Bazi flaked under pressure -- she had done it countless times in the year they had spent together. But this.. it was different.

She no longer loved him. He could feel it -- and if he truly sought to discover himself, he knew he too was falling out of love with her.

He needed a moment to think. He had been vigilant marking their new borders, but he had crept away when none of his kid were looking, otherwise he would have had a shadow with him. He skirted around the Moors, scared by how tempted he was to check in there and see if Quill was there. But what good would it do?

So now he slumped on his haunches at the shallow bank of a river, noting how still the water was compared to his old pack lands. Within it, he could see his reflection -- and while there was no physical mark left by his mate's stinging bite, he could feel the burn of it all the same.

Bhreac wandered every chance she got. Although she'd been prone to roaming from the day she could walk, it was less a thirst for adventure or distance and more a quest for something to do. Something physical, and stimulating, and a little bit exhausting. She and Eshe had lived in a canyon, previously, though, so it had been easy enough to do that. Another day, another craggy cliff face to pick her way up in her spare time, often alone, but sometimes with family. She'd never gone far beyond, though — there'd never been any reason to. Now, though she had loyalty to the burgeoning pack she'd promised herself to, there was a looser tether on her, and so many new things to see.

She'd left early in the morning and found herself a ways from home after weaving around, chasing birds and stray thoughts and interesting trees. It was mindless, but there was comfort in that, as she still hadn't found much to turn her mind from what had happened to her family. Part of her wished — though she was wary of it — to have Eshe's ease in finding wolves upon whom she wanted to bestow her time in affection. The whole thing still made her too wary, though.

She came upon a river, and stepped into the shallow edges of it. She frowned a little to herself, wondering why she was forever attracted to the sort of earth that would muddy her coat, but didn't stop walking, enjoying the cool water splashing at her heels as she went. After a short while, she came upon another wolf. She paused, her initial reaction to walk in the other direction, but after a beat of indecision she took a few steps toward him, pausing a cautious distance from him.

"'Lo there," she said, giving her tail a wag to show that she was a — somewhat — friendly presence, although as usual new wolves made her too nervous to fully invest in a smile.

HIs reveries did not allow for the misplaced slosh of water to be missed, and glancing up sharply, Scimitar's aqua eyes fell upon the white form. His initial reaction was of Bazi -- had she followed him here? But no.. his mate was smaller than the female before him.. more delicate of frame. Bitchier, even, he thought with a wave of disrupt.

He greeting lingered in the air for only a moment before his own muzzle inclined down to reveal he held a neutral stance. There had been a time in his younger years (if not only a year ago) where he would have held himself higher-- staked his claim of his rank. Now, in neutral territory, he remained as such.

"Hello," he offered after a beat, his eyes drifting over her pale form before turning back to the muddied waters. A year ago, he also would have likely left the conversation at that -- Swiftcurrent Creek had been filled to the brim with members. Now, he lead a pack of four other adults, and five children. Now, every opportunity was a chance for recruitment -- always a failed attempt. "You from around here?"

"No," she said reflexively, when asked if she was from the area. And then, after a beat, she cringed. "Well, yes. Now I am. The hollow, not far off." She stepped nearer to him, close enough for conversation rather than just cautious greetings, and as such could smell that he wasn't one of the wolves who would make up her pack, but of another. It was so strange to her, how many wolves there were in the area. Her home pack had been somewhat inconveniently located at the bottom of a canyon; they hadn't exactly been lousy with visitors. Yet here she couldn't walk a mile without running into somebody new.

"Are you?" she asked, wondering if his pack was nearby. The thought simultaneously explained why she was constantly blundering into others, and made her a little uneasy. Were there territorial disputes? Would there be? She knew Mordecai and Harlyn and whoever else were only just building their borders and staking their claim, and the idea that she'd stepped right into a bubble of tension ready to burst made her want to be sick.

He watched her, studying her as she spoke -- though his eyes never did meet her own with the intent to maintain the neutrality between them. She seemed skittish in her reply, though nothing about her posture offered such insight.

Of course, the question was returned, and he felt a wry smile barely pull at his lips before giving a shrug. "It's complicated," he began, wondering if it would be enough to simply leave it there. "Just a long story", he tagged on, not wishing to bore her with the humdrum of the ex-Nova Peak wolves lives and drama, unless she determined it was important to know.

Teekon Wilds raised suspicious wolves, and with good cause.

"Ah," Bhreac said, nodding, "I get it. Hard to answer for such a simple question." She'd hesitated, after all, and changed her answer. This too felt alien to her — the idea that she didn't know where he was coming from, or where he'd grown up; she didn't have childhood memories to mock him over, nor did she know what sort of conversation he liked to make it go easily. This whole new life was getting to be more comfortable, the fear of the unknown ebbing, but it still made everything feel a bit uneasy, where it should've been simple.

"I'm Bhreac Endore," she said, finding nothing else to grasp at. She wanted to get better at this — and based on the sheer volume of wolves in the area, she needed to — but she didn't know where to start. She started to sit down, but remembered she was standing in a few inches of water the moment her rear end touched down, and she jolted back to her feet awkwardly. Sighing to herself and frowning, she added, "resident idiot."

His brows lifted at her initial response – uncertain if it was sarcasm oozing past her lips her a simple attempt at humor. Before he had a chance to truly mull this over, the girl introduced herself, and in turn, promptly made to sit down.
 
The awkwardness of the situation relaxed him, and at her sheepishness, he allowed a small smile to slip past his stoical mask and his muzzle dipped lower now. “Scimitar Frostfur,” he offered, refraining from making a comment toward her mishap. In truth, he was surprised it hadn’t happened to him first.
 
She almost reminded him of his mate.. when she wasn’t busy glaring daggers at him. “Are you looking to settle in the area?”