Nova Peak how to murder someone: kiss them once and never again

It takes the entire day to reach her destination so as the sun settles in the distance, hidden by the mountain looming over her, she begins her search for a place to rest. Her pace had been at leisure but something caught her attention enough to pull her in that direction. A scent left behind by someone familiar, fleeting in that moment, and disappears into the distance. She follows where she can, but she’s never quite able to pick it up again. If the scent proves to be true, her time for a quiet reign could end. If her wolves find her, Drageda could change into something she’s not quite prepared for. 

The dark leader takes a long breath to ease her anxieties and her slate, steely gaze glances upward at a clear sky. The air is cool as the wind whips around the mountain, rustling her fur, and she can see the cloud move in waves across the sky. There’s a heavy breath of salt, reminding her of home, but it’s faint and far from clinging to her fur in comfort. Making her way to the ocean would be her next big plan, once she’s settled and rested from mapping as much of her current surroundings.

Thuringwethil finds a ledge, open to the night sky so much that she doesn’t have to strain her neck to look at the stars. 

@Rosalyn

edit - hopefully that's enough to go by?

With the scarcity of Vlad and her own mending body, Rosalyn had once again taken to wandering the surrounding lands.  Her form had yet to regain any of it's former vitality due to the slim pickings of the past weeks, but her stride was stronger and her wounds a mere irritation as opposed to a real hinderance.  It was enough and she was restless.

Though part of her yearned to go south, she knew that her lover's lands were too far a journey for her still.  And she did not wish Red to tire of their games, nor did she want to grow complacent in it.  There was a beauty in the rarity also.

Instead she took to north, a direction she had only scarcely explored and had not deined to try again.  A creature of the warm southern shores, the cold of the upper reaches did not agree with her well, yet the spring sun made the trip a pleasant jaunt as opposed to the usual torture.  Her mood was still bright, especially at the prospect of travel.  

As she walked, she met the slopes of a nearby mountain.  Instead of climbing, she skirted the rise, knowing the incline would rapidly tire her and not wanting to put in the effort on such a lazy trip.  Instead she stopped a moment to take it in, curious. Though she considered herself to be a wordly woman, mountains were something she had little experience in.  As she did, a skinny squirrel darted past and up the mountain's foot.  Without an instant of hesitation she followed, not likey to catch but unwilling to pass on the chance all the same.  Food was food after all! She shot up the rise on it's heels, unaware of the wolf on the ledge who happened to be in the vicinity when she gave up, breath heaving and gazing balefully in the direction her prey had disappeared.

Having settled her claim on a mountain had given her a new experience that made Nova Peak easier to explore but so late at night, Thuringwethil decided to do most of that in the morning. It didn’t stop her from picking up what she had on the trail and a ledge that overlooked the way she’d come. A sliver of another catches her attention in the distance but the moonlight offers little when it disappears beneath a few trees and before she knows it, running past the access to the ledge.

Thunderous paws don’t continue and she hears the breathy huffs of air that causes her to stir and pick herself up. The edge is narrow and she takes slow, careful steps until she’s back on steady and solid ground. A tree and some shrubs block her view and she moves until the wolf is in her view. She stands in a shadow but the moonlight hits the ground close enough to illuminate her from below. A soft chuff escapes her lips then and she takes another long stride to make herself visible, relaxed, to prevent any threat.

Damn and double damn.  It shouldn't have come as a surprise, for she was still rather rough despite her almost recovery.  She'd wanted that food, and as if in defiance, her stomach gave a small bemoaning gurgle.  

Movement in her periphery gave her a moment of hope, but the chuff dashed it just as quickly.  Not prey.  Ignoring her hunger, she looked up at the wolf whose silhouette cut an impressive figure.  Shit, did she step in it again?  No scent marks, and a friendly enough greeting, yet she kept wary.  There was no telling.

"Nice night for a midnight soirée, eh?"  She asked with a jaunty lilt, taking a few more steps to bring the other wolf more into view.  She didn't recognize them, unsurprising with how few around here she had met.  She didn't offer a name, as usual, and didn't ask.  But it had been a while since she'd met a stranger, so she wondered with friendly curiosity how she'd be recieved.

There is disappointment between them when the catch gets away from the female but Thuringwethil keeps still until she’s noticed, even after her greeting has been vocalized. She keeps her distance but when the other female notices her, she tenses in reflex should her frustration from her failed hunt turn around on her. Pivoting back on her feet and running a decline down the mountain wouldn’t be a terrible idea if she were to be chased, having no desire to strike an attack on a territory she doesn’t know and away from her home.

A voice distracts her, however, and is enough to slowly ease a little relaxation. The tension in her spine shifts and she nods her head.

“I had been resting for the evening until you ran by,” she comments, without a hint of blame, and rolls one shoulder to show her indifference. The scent of the other is unknown to her but others were attached to her fur, hiding the true scent of the female. She belongs to others but it isn’t familiar to her at all. “I’m Thuringwethil,” she decides to introduce but her posture remains a little more dominant than necessary for a neutral territory.

They did the dance of unknown strangers; tense, backs up in case the other was less than cordial.  But her words seemed to draw the other into some sort of ease, and Rosalyn did not worry so much for her own safety.  A wolf who announced themselves on approach was rarely one who meant harm.

Rosalyn showed a similar disinterest when the imposing woman revealed she had been resting, perhaps until Roz intruded.  No scent lines and the act of the hunt meant she had nothing to apologize for, a fact that seemed mutully understood.  Unlike Thuring, however, Rosalyn failed to hold herself with any sort of poise.  Her own stance was informal, languid even - there was no pose to indicate the self-respect of rank. The rogue rarely bothered with such things even amongst a pack.

She eyed Thuringwethil a few seconds after her introduction was given, sizing her up.  Easy on the eyes if a bit of a stiff on first impression.  There wasn't a whole lot of charm, which Rosalyn actually found refreshing.  Like Red, but intensified even moreso.  It wasn't often she got manners.  "Roz," she replied finally, deciding to throw a bone after all.

"So, Thuringwethil.  Do you often 'rest' on unclaimed mountainsides, waiting to chat up unsuspecting hunters?"  She couldn't quite tell yet if the other bore pack scent, so shifted in a tad closer, vigilant but nonthreatening. She would not crowd her space, but wished to know what her nose could find.

The woman introduces herself just as easily and Thuringwethil lets herself ease out a little further. She's still a stranger, still some minute threat left, but for the time being her tone is playful and neither seem to be at odd ends with one another. She keeps the distance between them, just in case, and watches as she can through the door for subtle changes that might trigger another response.

"You caught me. Terrible past time, but the victims are usually easy," she says, tone soft and playful—a surprising change Roz wouldn't likely notice from her demeanor—but there just the same.

She had only come this way to further explore, expand her knowledge of surrounding territories, to better suit her at home. The trip had taken much of the day, leaving her to check it out at night or, better, in the morning. But with knowing other wolves nearby, even if they presented as friendly in the meantime, would hinder her rest. "Where do you come from?"

She could already tell this wasn't going to go like her last encounter.  Either of them.  Both had been rather... unfortunate.  But Rosalyn didn't move to close the space, and the other didn't either.  No use pushing boundaries here, not when she could go home and get so much more satisfaction doing it to packmates instead (;D).

Honey, you have no idea, she thought, though her response outwardly was simply to laugh.  The euphemism, whether intended or not, was appreciated.  She liked this wolf.

"A scenic little stretch of beach out west. 'Saltveenter', as it's called by a friend of mine."  This wolf looked about the opposite of a Saltveenter wolf.  Well fed, polished, intimidating... they made them pretty this side of the wilds, didn't they?  "And what fortunate land do you belong to?"

Even if she hadn’t asked for it, Roz confirmed the ocean wasn’t terribly far away. Just west of where they stood, she could find it, and the other appears in a relatively easy travel-weary, but still upbeat and on steady limbs. It wouldn’t be too difficult to further her trip, head west and see the ocean again for herself. It has been far too long and she feels her heart, restless in her chest, wishing for the waves crashing against a sandy shore.

“Sleeping Dragon,” she says, looking over her shoulder. There are trees surrounding them, but at a distance on the ledge she’d been resting, she could see the glacier, but the darkness hid them for now. “A mountain east of here. My clan, Drageda, resides there,” she muses, swinging her head back around to the other female. “How far is… Saltveenter from here?”

Sleeping Dragon.  It was an interesting monicker, and her other casually extended introduction gave an even more foreign air.  My clan, Drageda.  

"About two days if you are quick.  Three or four if, like me, you choose to enjoy the trip."  She tended to take a leisurely pace and wander slight off the straight and narrow.  To be fair, not much about here was 'straight and narrow' in general (aside from her current appearance) so that was hardly new.

"This clan of yours... what's it like, if you don't mind me being curious."  The term clan was not one she heard often and it tended to imply a more interesting set of wolves than your general run of the mill pack.  At least to Roz's mind, it had promise.

Thuringwethil doesn't make an effort to hide her disappointment about the distance. She hasn't had the chance to break away from the immediate area to be reunited with the ocean once more. She owes herself. A sigh escapes her but she withdraws and straightens out her reflection. Soon, she reminds herself. Sooner or later, she'd get out there. Living on the mountain had certainly given her way of life but not being able to hear the ocean at night leaves her restless and antsy.

Ultimately, her companion settles on the interesting lives of her clan and her brows burrow when she realizes she doesn't have much to say.

"I don't know what you want to know, but they are my wolves and we—"

She takes a deep breath, uncertain of herself. Her home remains a cluster, one trouble to the next, but would she trade it? She's only a vessel, but she still has her free will—right?

"We're not much different than any of other."