Honeyed Pasture Eight seconds left in overdrive

Sorry it’s a tad delayed, I had a busy weekend :) @Osprey


Mason was at the back end of his excursion. He had debated heading straight home, but there was the niggling identity of a pack he had scented a few weeks ago when he had been out nearer the sea. He wanted a plethora of information before he requested the scout trade. When he got home he would wind it all up in his mind and memorise the important bits. Once done, he would approach his Dad regarding his trade.

Mason cantered over the hard compacted snow at the edge of the Honeyed Pasture; this early in the morning the sun had not been out for long enough to soften it. He could see the border trees of the pack for which he did not know the name. He lifted his grey-white muzzle, closed his wide-set eyes and howled a short, querying howl.

Mason had the fleeting thought of specialising as a spy, however he immediately banished the notion. He knew his flaws, and he was too chatty to keep such a thing a secret. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve.

Mason lingered as close as he dared, but hopefully not too close to the scent markings. This was ultimately dependant on how grumpy and possessive a border patroller was, but Mason didn’t want to go home empty-handed of knowledge from this pack that was so close to his own. To appease any approaching wolf, Mason lay down in the snow, rolled onto his side and exposed a portion of his pale belly, happy to wait a couple of minutes to see if his call was answered. He blended into the mottled snow quite well, except  for flaming orange eyes which were on the lookout for any approach. If it was aggressive, he would flee before they reached him.

ooc: no worries! :)

Luck would have it that the grumpier and angrier Donnelaith border patrollers were either on a break that day or were taking care of another portion of the forest elsewhere. Osprey had been out hunting all morning and had wandered as far as the Eastern edge of her home. She had lost the tracks of the hare she had been chasing and now, in order to regain her breath, she was walking at a leisurely pace. Occasionally she leaned down to pick up pieces of snow to quench the thirst. 

Had it not been for her sense of scent, which was the most acute one out of them all, she would not have noticed the young wolf lying in the snow with his belly exposed and walked right over him. Now Osprey stopped in her tracks and regarded the rather odd (and silly) visitor with a curious look. It occurred to her that she might have heard someone calling a while ago, but whether it was this fellow or a someone from the ranks, she did not know. "So - what do you want me to do now - ask you, how are you doing or eat you straight away?" she asked in a good-natured tone.

Mason watched her roll up at a pleasant pace once she had noticed him. He had spotted her from some distance off, but he hadn’t been sure she would head in his direction. Mason’s ears flickered at her words, and then a smile played across his muzzle.
 
“I don’t think I’d be a very good snack,” Mason admitted, “Dad always said I would be a bit chewy.” With that he eased himself up from the floor and shook off the excess snow. Mason eyed her chrome palette with interest. She held the scent he had been looking for – he felt the desperate need to explain himself as he so often did. “I wanted to know a bit more about your pack, ‘cause I live on Silvertip mountain and we’re quite close, so I thought I’d come and have a nosey.”
 
Mason remembered what she had said and tacked the last words on with a grin; “oh, and how are you doing?”

"That's a shame," Osprey sighed, pretending to examine the boy's skinny form from head to toes and then nodding as if agreeing with something. "I see, what your father meant." She considered asking the fellow to come back, when he was going to be a bit chubbier, but since cannibalism was a real thing among some wolves, she did not want to scare him off because of inappropriate jokes. 

"Silvertip mountain - never heard about that one," the only two packs she knew outside Donnelaith was the Caldera and the pack Burke came from. Oh - and Moonspear, where Charon lived. All three were far away and it was a bit silly that she didn't know any of the more immediate neighbours. "So - you want me to tell all of the secrets, where we hunt and hide our treasures?" she tilted her head to the side. "Let's make it fair - for each bit of information I tell you, you have to reveal something of equal value about your pack."

Mason giggled when she looked him over and advised that she agreed with his Dad. Mason’s tail swished and whirled with his laughing movements, and he decided he already liked this pretty lady. He caught sight of an unusual splatter of black on her ruff as she continued talking, and Mason wondered how wolves actually got markings – his own were bizarre, he knew.
 
Mason giggled again – and shook his head emphatically. “No!” he interjected as she continued, and then his shaking head turned into a nodding one. “Yeah okay! I’ll do a trade! But I’m not telling you where our treasures are either.” Mason grinned, remembering the motto of the story Chaska the storyteller had given him.
 
“You go first!” Mason plonked his butt back on the snow, ready to receive any information she deemed worthy. He would rather she start because he didn’t even know what he could tell her that wasn’t boring about Silvertip. Maybe how many members they had and about their Glass Caves?

While Mason tried to figure out, what interesting stuff he could tell about the Silvertip mountain, Osprey was thinking exactly the same thing about Donnelaith. All things taken in account - her pack was traditional, family-oriented, calm and uneventful as a lake in the summer evening. There was nothing to impress or scare the youth with. Even if she had known more about the emotional turmoil between the members of the pack's younger generation, names and people involved would not be exciting either. Plus - it wasn't a thing you told a stranger anyway. Even if it appeared quite pleasant and had cute manners. 

"So... Donnelaith is a pack that consists of... well, more than four people and we do the same stuff any other pack does. Try to stay alive and enjoy the life inbetween," Osprey, who was used to telling more colorful stories, was really struggling with this one. "This is pathetic... Do you care to hear the more improved version?"

Mason listened carefully as soon as her words emerged from her mouth. She was possibly as vague as could be without saying ‘we’re wolves and we do wolf stuff’. More than four people – was that fifteen or five? Was she scared his pack would come down and terrorise them?
 
Mason blinked when she cut off to advise him that her own opinion was that her information was pathetic. “Er… sure!” Mason said with a vigorous nod to show that he was happy to listen to anything. Anything she could give him was better than nothing, for his knowledge of Teekon. Mason waited with baited breath to hear the ‘improved version’ unsure whether this would be a story of a fantasy pack, or simply a re-start of the original information.

"Ou-kay..." Osprey said after a moment of silence, which she used to contemplate about, how exactly should she improve the existing members of the pack, highlighting their best qualities and without ridiculing them too much. 

"So... you should know first-hand that we are loyal to the forest king Lasher and fair queen Blue Willow. The first one is of the sorcerer kind - very smart, intuitive, strong and proud as well. If you happen to meet him, do so with respect. Otherwise - who knows, he might decide to turn you into a frog," as she said this, she winked. 

"Blue willow on the other hand has taken great interest in healing and she can do miracles to improve one's health. She is also very kind and forgiving, but fiercely protective of her family. So - while she as a fairy would be more likely to grant wishes - don't anger or threaten her. She is small, but she has admirable strength," in other words - don't abuse one's good heart. 

"That's about the leaders - now is your turn," Osprey stopped her story there, thinking it was only fair that the young fellow told about his pack too.

Mason listened, gobsmacked. His muzzle literally split open as the bottom half hung towards the floor. They had a forest king and queen?!  Mason wan’t sure whether he really wanted to meet Lasher and be turned into a frog, but Osprey’s wink made him think she might be joking about this at least. Blue Willow sounded amazing, a veritable miracle worker. Mason wished he could be that good. His face took on a boyish innocence as he drank in her story. When she finished he breathed “Cooool!” with great enthusiasm and then thought how he was supposed to explain his leaders. The thought of Zaria being a fair queen nearly made him snort. Perhaps one day he had thought that, but she had dealt him too many sharp lessons for him to still have such a benevolent opinion of her.
 
“So… my Dad is FitzDutiful and he is the Alpha, He’s pretty fair, and takes his Dutiful bit of his name really seriously. Sometimes I think he would do anything if he thought it would be good for the pack. He can be kind but he can be angry if pack members are bad.” Mason continued with childish insight into his Dad and stepmum, perhaps divulging more of each side of them than they would wish. “Zaria is our alpha female. She’s really snappy and can get very angry for nothing sometimes. She came from a real bad pack where her dad was nasty to her, but now she’s with us and she seems happy when she’s not being moody.” There was something about Osprey that allowed him to babble with no thought of consequence. “Oh and she’s really little too.”
 
Mason shone his fiery orange eyes on his new friend and whipped his tail around in delight. “Please tell me more of your pack story though!”

i couldn't help myself since i saw this was AW and Charon is a jealous butt and i figured i'd stir things up a little. (plus i've wanted an Em-thread forever, squee!)

It had been a little while since Charon had given Dhole the message to give to Osprey, and still she hadn't visited him. He was frustrated that she would ditch him just to continue her life with Dante, or whatever she was doing. He wasn't even sure if she was with him, but he knew that she preferred him. She hadn't wanted to leave him to join Charon's legacy, after all, and to add insult to injury, Osprey hadn't taken up the offer that he had extended to visit, either. He wasn't sure that Dhole's message would change anything; it was obvious if she hadn't visited yet now that she never intended to visit at all. Just more false promises, and it hurt. She was the last wolf he had expected them from.

Imagine his surprise when, on his way to the shores for some much-needed exploration away from his kingdom, he heard Osprey's voice, paired with that of another guy. A young guy, by the sounds of it. The hairs in his neck bristled and the young Alpha wasted no time marching up towards them. He approached from the younger one's back, facing Osprey, and his night blue eyes sought hers with thunder roaring above his head. It didn't help that she had obviously been telling the dude stories of make-believe and fantasy, like she used to tell him. "So that's it, isn't it?" he snapped. "You have time to frolick around with this guy playing make-believe like a fucking pup, but you refuse to visit my pack?" and play make-believe with me so we can pretend like we're still pups, he silently added, but of course he would never admit that to her. Charon straight up ignored the other dude, his focus solely on Osprey. She looked better than she did last time that he saw her, but Charon didn't care. His feelings had been hurt, and he pettily wished to hurt her back as much as he could now.

Osprey had to take all her strenght not to laugh at the young wolf's expression, when she told that Lasher could turn people he did not like in frogs. Just imagine him hearing that from a stranger. She believed, however, that the alpha would take it with a good humor and would probably play the game a bit, before assuring the other party that he had no intentions of doing any kind of magic. Today. 

The tale of Silvertip's leaders was a more modest and truthful one. She vaguely remembered meeting a FitzDutiful once, but whether it was the same wolf, she could not tell. Zaria's name however seemed to reflect her character well. And - she could be mistaken - but the young fellow didn't seem to harbor any warm feelings to the lady either. 

Just as she was about to grant the kid's wish, a familiar someone approached out of nowhere and his harsh words and the way he spoke to her felt like a hard slap in the face. She stared at him with wide eyes for a while, trying to comprehend, what exactly she was being accused of and why, and the only thing she could come up with was: "Usually people start with a greeting." She cast an apologetic glance at the young Silvertip mountain wolf: "I do apologize - this is an old friend of mine Charon." Then she looked up at the furious face and spoke, her tone visibly colder: "In advance - it's nice to meet you too, Charon. And, when I last checked, I was in charge of my own time and when and what I do with it. At the moment I am dealing with a visit of a diplomatic nature. So - if you may - I would like to finish it first and then have time to resolve, whatever problems you seem to be having with me."

Hai! xD great first thread for us Iris hahaha…
 
Mason didn’t actually notice the new guy on the scene until he heard his snapping voice. Mason spun, tail whipping up under his belly as he saw the authoritative demeanour of a slightly older male. Having had no visual description from either his Dad or Floki, Mason didn’t know this was the alpha of Moonspear just yet. Mason’s mouth dropped open again – this time at the visual similaritiy between himself and the other. Obviously the eye colour and face shape were different, but aside from the freckles on the nose and the paws, Mason could have been looking at a blurred reflection of himself. It was freaky.
 
And what the hell had he stepped into here? A lovers tryst? Charon completely ignored him. Mason’s ears wilted. Luckily Osprey did not copy her fellow and kept Mason in the loop. Finding out this was Charon made Mason;s insides twist. He had got on so well with Floki, but already the brother – the alpha – hated him for no fault of his own. Some Scout he was turning out to be. This was an inter-pack relations nightmare.
 
Osprey didn’t take any crap – she responded with hard-nosed verbal prowess that Mason wished he could learn immediately. It appeared she would not be ditching Mason to run off with Charon (not really surprising!) and instead she appeared to want to carry on their own conversation. Mason sidled a few steps away from Charon, closer to Osprey. “Okay, I’ll wait,” he mumbled quietly, more to himself than anyone else. His wide-set eyes bulged as they flickered nervously between his new friend and… enemy?

haha yes, nice start between them. ^^; If you don't mind we can keep things in this thread, Me! Charon being Charon and all.

Charon's eyes narrowed when Osprey calmly said that people usually start with greetings. It stung that she would introduce him as an 'old friend', because it made Charon feel like he used to be at some point. Part of him knew that he was being irrational, but he couldn't just stop being so right now, right? He was certainly not planning to apologise, if that's what she was thinking. Charon was definitely caught off guard by her stoic response, though, because he figured that she would be the one to say that she was sorry and back down from this challenge; that she would own up to her obvious mistakes. But she didn't, and the fact that she acted as if he was being irrational frustrated him further, because he certainly didn't like being pointed to his own mistakes.

"Yeah, well, usually people own up to their promises," Charon spat out, his hackles raised and his tail curled over his back in defiance. Charon shot the dude she was with a dirty look, daring him to say anything, but luckily he just muttered that he would wait. Charon was glad at least that the guy decided not to accept Osprey's 'generous offer' for Charon to leave, and instead offered to wait, or whatever. "Aren't you going to fucking introduce your friend, too?" Charon hissed, his voice cracking up a little towards the end, showing some of the hurt and vulnerability that he was desperately trying to hide with his dominant stature. " 'Cause isn't that what people usually do?" His preening eyes turned to the youth, younger than himself, in their midst, waiting for either Osprey or the guy to say something (though he guessed that it would be Osprey). Charon held his dominant posture, though he didn't make a move to come closer to either of them. He ignored Osprey's suggestion, because he thought it ridiculous that a Jarl of his stature would have to wait for an audience with a friend that had just twisted a dagger in his heart.

ooc: cracks knuckles - this is going to be so much fun!!! :D

Osprey rarely gave into anger, but it was hard keeping calm demeanor this time. Charon's accusations felt unjust, his tone was rude and the dominant nature was offending. He acted as if she owed him something, even though she had always been the one to give. First stories and games for a lonely child, then playing the role of a "good aunt" that listens to all of the problems the youth has and never criticizes. Always finding something to praise the kid for, defending from the cruel world outside. What has he ever done for you? A small, spiteful voice spoke in the back of her mind. She knew it was not true - having a friendship was the greatest gift one could have - yet it was hard to find excuses now, when the same friend treated her as if he owned her. 

Besides she felt uneasy having a stranger witnessing this scene and she cast an apologizing look at Mason, then turned to Charon. "I would, if you acted as an adult and not like a rude, spoiled and jealous brat," she said coldly, her gaze locking with his, daring him to make another move.

xD Haha it's great development

The young lad didn't know what to do. They were both acknowledging him but Mason knew that he was a third wheel here. He had been one before. Osprey, at least, attempted to put him at ease; for that he was her eternal friend.  Mason gazed at his paws for some more moments before he was dragged back into the conversation unwillingly. Grasping desperately, the young mountaineer glanced nervously between Charon and Osprey.
 
The man was using vulgar language and threatening behaviour. Osprey was defensive but relatively calm. Mason hedged his bets. His body moved again, shifting subtly so that Osprey was one pace ahead of his shoulders now. Not that he would force someone to defend him, but in his childish innocence he clung to the lady who seemed to be more on his side. He was too frozen to run away. What if Charon chased him and tore at him? The alpha had ugly scars on his side - he obviously knew his way around a battlefield.
 
Osprey had no intention of giving away his identity; Mason was grateful and was unwilling to give it up himself, for this would take away any advantage his team seemed to have. Mason instead felt a whine building in his throat. He tried desperately to stop it - what would Uncle Sted think? - but after a horrible moment it spilled from his throat. It lingered, a weak childish note rising and falling in the momentary silence. Mason felt a sudden inexplicable need to expel his bladder; he shifted just in time to avoid the spurt of urine spraying his tail. It instead yellowed the snow. His eyes glanced again at his two companions before he gazed at his paws again, horrified by his own shame.

Maybe they hadn't noticed.

I LOVE THIS because Charon himself had this happen. :') Thanks for the interesting developments, guys. I'd really love a thread with each of you some time! <3

Fire blazed in Charon's eyes when Osprey dared to insult him as she did. He didn't understand one bit why she had suddenly gone from a warm friend to a cold bitch. He wanted nothing more than to weep his eyes out over it, but his pride wouldn't allow him to break down and ask Osprey with tear-filled eyes why she didn't like him, because there were only likeable things about him. The thought was laughable; he was a King, after all, and he would not be treated so unjustly. Osprey was blind, and while he didn't know the details, in his heart he knew what -- or rather, who -- was the cause of it all. Dante, of course.

But the young boy that cowered behind her played no little part too, for if she didn't go out making other friends than perhaps she would have still needed Charon. He reminded himself that he had invited her to visit him, if not largely because of her stupid boyfriend or whatever the fuck he was. Dante would doubtlessly dislike him visiting his pack, and that was why he had asked Osprey to come to his mountain, to see his glorious kingdom. But she had never come. She hadn't come. It was her fault, not his, and so he didn't deserve to be treated this way.

"How dare you," Charon hissed, his teeth baring in anger. "I thought you were my friend, I even accepted that dumb-ass boyfriend of yours, I invited you into my home, and this is what I get?" He puffed himself up further, the tip of his tail twitching. He had no intentions to attack either of them -- Charon had always had more of a barky character than a violent one -- but he hadn't a clue that the boy that cowered behind Osprey had no idea of that. "I am a King, how dare you call me a --" That was when the pungent scent entered his nostrils, causing Charon to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He glanced around to find its source, distracted for a moment, when he noticed the look on the cowering boy's face.

Disgusting.

There was a brief flash of surprise on Charon's face -- mostly because he was reminded of his own mishaps when he was younger. He felt empathy briefly flush over him, and his conscience battled his pride while he glared at the boy through gritted teeth. Another might mistake his anger for distracting the attention away from himself, or for disgust, for finding the boy nothing but despicable for what he had done. Charon's anger, however, came from the fact that the boy had just reminded him of his past, and had reminded him of the fragile mortal that he was -- that he had once been. Charon'd always wanted to be brave, but he had never really been so. Not until he fought Dante, anyway, and he had been forced to be brave or die. All encounters before that he had frozen, unable to do what he wanted to, unable to fight.

He was not that wolf anymore. He didn't want anyone to remind him of how he'd once been that wolf. That boy. The boy that cowered behind Osprey.

The boy had taken his place. "I HATE YOU!" Charon bellowed loudly at no one in particular -- or maybe both of them -- and he gave Osprey a shattered look, emotion stirring in his night blue eyes while he made eye contact with her for but a moment. Then he turned and ran. Tears started to cloud his eyes as he turned around, and he ran as fast as he could. He felt vulnerable and betrayed. For a moment he felt as though he had ruined his own chances, but then he reminded himself that Osprey hadn't even visited him, and she likely never would have, anyway. To think that she cared was to pretend, and he was an adult now. Done pretending.

Pain stabbed sharply at the boy's heart as he ran and ran, until he found a thicket that he collapsed into at the frays of the territory. There, he wrapped himself up and forced his tears away, forcing bitter hatred in place of his feelings of inadequacy. He wasn't inadequate -- He was Alpha, Jarl, King, Emperor. A leader, with a throne, and loving followers. He was better than all of them, and he didn't need any of them.

"You are being irrational," Osprey murmured and shook her head slowly, still not understanding, why was Charon so mad at her and the whole situation seemed like a badly written drama. She winced, when the boy declared that he hated her and stormed away, but did not call out to him, nor did she try to follow. Though the words he had said hurt, she had a feeling that he had not meant it. That this was yet another an unfinished business and, when the anger would go away, they would be able to deal with this in a calm manner. There was a possibility that their friendship would end, but that kind of a result - though unlucky - would still be better than leaving things as they were now.

She then looked down at Mason and gave him a sad smile: "I am sorry that you had to witness this." He was obviously scared and for a moment she pondered, whether she should walk him home. Just in case Charon was somewhere nearby and decided to unleash his anger at the innocent. Anything could happen and it was unfortunate that she had lost all confidence in her former friend. "Do you still want to hear the story or should we leave it for another time? I can assure you that the rest of my friends are not that mad. Nor any of them are likely to jump out of the bushes suddenly," she gave him a reassuring look. Well, Burke had always had a knack of appearing, when she expected it the least. But they were way away from the usual hunting grounds.

Mason was glad he had stuck in Osprey’s corner. Whilst Charon fumed like a spitfire, shooting words and glares, Osprey merely shook her head and spoke calmly. Mason’s orange eyes peered out at Charon who cut off to stare at him with utter disgust. The boy wasn’t sure how he could be so filled with the emotion, considering it was his own actions prompting Mason’s fear. With a final scream of hatred – most likely directed at Mason – the Alpha of Moonspear galloped off. Mason was left with a ringing despair in his ears. He was left with the feeling that he was mortal and lacking – a shy, scaredy wimp.
 
Osprey was kind, and Mason moved a step closer to her, deciding she was the kind of friend you wanted for life. Perhaps the reason that Charon had been so angry – because he appeared to think he had lost her. Mason peered around and could see no other angry wolves in sight, just as she had promised. He managed a watery smile, a small bud of his previous enthusiasm blossoming in his tear-filled eyes. “Can… yes please c-can we finish the story?” Fragile and innocent, he waited, clutching to Osprey’s calm like a fledgling bird clutching to a sturdy tree in a storm.

Hell, Charon, you have a way with people... Osprey thought, when she realized that Mason was about to cry. "Hey..." she leaned towards the fellow to touch his forehead lightly, "none of that was aimed at you - don't take it personally." She withdrew and appeared to be thinking about something for a while. She was not sure, if staying at the present location would help much in making the little guy feel better, but because of the newborns, it would not be wise to take him inside Donnelaith for a tour either. 

"Let's go somewhere else - what would you say about a beach full of treasures?" she offered smiling and hoping that an activity would help to take the guy's mind off Charon's nasty showdown. "And, while we are walking, I can continue describing my packmates."

Mason appreciated her considerate touch more than she would have realised. He was a motherless son, and his father was not really the cuddly affectionate type. It was the young boy who had always comforted June in this way, and he was not used to having all of his worries smoothed away by a simple brush to the forehead. Mason decided that if he ever did take a mate, it would have to be someone like Osprey – gentle and kind. Then if he had pups, they would always have that. It didn’t occur to Mason right now that he would likely also be there to give that comforting cuddly support, because he was just that type of wolf.
 
Mason’s ears pricked up and his sniffles reduced as she spoke of treasures. Bright eyes looked around to try and spot the beach she spoke of. “Yeah that sounds good! Is the treasure like food? Or shiny rocks?”Mason sniffed again and banished thoughts of Charon as he turned his back on the direction the man had run in. Instead Mason focused entirely on his new friend and waited to see which direction she would take them in. “Is your pack big?”

"Kind of both and add plenty of rubbish to the equation too," Osprey replied, chuckling at the childish enthusiasm the teenager had. You could not tell by looks alone that this almost-adult was still a kid inside. And because Charon had scared him so badly, she had the natural urge to take care of and protect him from any harm, while he was in her company. 

"I told you that we are more than four - I guess that can be considered reasonably big?" Osprey shrugged, trying to think around the very obvious fact, that numbers weren't her forte and she could not count. She was good at remembering faces and names and could easily tell the difference between - zero (no one), one, few and many - but exact maths had never been neccessary.

"Unless you count in all of the ghosts, few trolls and a dragon that resides in the forest," she added, suddenly remembering the day, when she and Mordecai had walked through the Blacktail deer plateau inventing the otherwordly creatures and their tales. "Does any of the supernatural folk live at the Silvertip mountain?" she asked casual, as if discussing the imaginary beasts was the most common thing in the world.

Mason nodded to her first question – more than 4 was a decent number, and 5 wolves was a good sized pack to take down big game, as long as they were all pulling their weight. As they walked, Mason hovered close to her, his eye catching on the black fur that draped her neck. Suddenly his attention was dragged back to the conversation with a jolt. His eyes lit up with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
 
“Wow!” He breathed, and when she asked her question he thought about it. He had never heard of his Dad or Chaska mentioning such creatures (his dad was too steadfast to believe in such nonsense, and Chaska kept his stories to those with morals from what Mason had heard).
 
“Well… I’ve never seen any, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. Does it? Maybe we have a dragon too! I bet it would be blue, so that it matched in with the mountain and sky. What colour is your dragon? Have you seen it? What’s a troll?” Mason chattered happily, then paused to allow her to actually respond.

"Well... it is a very old one," Osprey replied to his question. "A long time ago, when he was young and strong, he flew around, destroying lands with his firey breath, fed on blood and gathered treasures. Now, however, he has become old and weak, he lies under the grassy hills and sleeps. Now and then - if you look very carefully, you can see him breathing. And... if you are extra-extra-careful - you can see him watching the world around him now and then. His eyes shine like yellow-green gems." It was not the first time she was telling this tale and the dragon didn't belong entirely to her either. It was an old story passed on from generation to generation. 

"A troll... it's big, not very smart and stinky," she replied, "not all of them, but most. And though there are different kinds of them, the ones I have encountered, inhabit swampy areas, where the water is murky and stale. Mud, of course, is a must too." But one had to see it with it's own eyes in order to understand, what it really was. For a moment she considered telling that the scary guy "Charon" had had a troll friend too. After all it was a fond memory and hopefully would show the haughty fellow in a more favorable light, but she decided that this in a way was a personal detail. Should these two meet each other again and should the guy mention...

"Hey, I don't think we ever exchanged names, did we? In case I have forgotten - I am old and my memory can get bad - I am Osprey and, what should I call you - official name-wise or a codename wise, if you prefer?"

Mason shivered excitedly at the thought of the beast feeding on blood. He wondered how it just drank blood and not flesh. Perhaps it ate animals whole! Mason shivered again at the thought of the dragon’s eyes watching him, a shiver which ran through his fur to his tail tip, swishing his fluffy fur this way and that.
 
Trolls sounded very different to dragons. “Gross!” Mason exclaimed happily as he thought of a big stinky creature wallowing in a swamp. Names – Charon’s interjection had stopped them he thought. The idea of giving himself a spy codename was cool, but he felt his new friend deserved his true name. “I’m Mason. But I’d like a codename for when we’re on a mission huntin’ for the trolls.” Because, clearly, he was going to make Osprey take him on such a mission one day, now that she’d given him such knowledge. “How about if my codename should be… Whisper?” Ironic, given how chatty he was being now that the danger of Charon had passed. “And what should I call you so the troll doesn’t hear your real name?” Mason skipped sideways in a sort of jig so he could beam at her face as he waited.

"Gross? You just wait, when you meet one in person. The stench is... beyond words," Osprey returned chuckling, thinking back to her childhood and the one time, when she had fell in a ditch, which had been full of stale and greenish water. She had ended up with a bad itchy skin infection and pack members avoiding the unlucky puppy for a week, because the odour was too unbearable to stick around. That way the inspiration for troll stories had been born.

"Mason is a very nice name," she praised the kid and would have said the same thing, even if he had told that his name was "bucket" or "stinkypie". "Good choice, I will be...?" she pursed her lips (as much as wolves can actually do that?) and looked up briefly to find just as cool codename. For the sake of originality, she could not use her former one. "Water-waffle," the name made no sense, but it was not boring and forgettable.