Permafrost Hollows my bones do not taste of crown and silver

@Warbone.

Thuringwethil has explored the extent of territories surrounding Drageda at its far reaches but nearby, she’d not quite been as thorough. The river, the valley, and the ridge, she knew well enough—but the mountain to their western border had largely gone unexplored. It’s close enough that the dark leader doesn’t feel terrible leaving behind and she’s not far enough she can’t hear a call in need of her presence.

With their ranks filled, the presence of her former wolves, makes her feel restless. Exploring the hollows gives her pull, perhaps enough to expand, but the consideration dies quietly. Sleeping Dragon’s roots are just taking hold and her own responsibility is to them and making sure the reaches of the dragon are met before anything else. If she sends one of her brothers back to Trigeda with news, others might come—loyal ones, what were left—and so she knows she needs to be ready.

The night settles comfortably around her, masking most of her presence, but the wind blows around her. The chill of early spring touches through her coat but it does little to bother her. Comfort in the cool wind reminds her of the northern seasons that were never warm enough and quietly she searches, trying to find something to give her peace for her future.

MICA POKED ME TO JOIN

She had not long been a guest of the wolf others referred to as Heda; a day, perhaps not even that, had come and gone. Sangilak had rested well in that time, sleeping contentedly as she had not in months. The life of a lone wolf was unromantic and not at all easy, even for a woman such as she. It required constant vigilance and though she did not mind it and was capable of surviving a long while yet in that status, it was not preferred. Sangilak had decided she would explore the territory at greater length later. The scent trail of Thuringwethil had gone beyond the borders of the place she had claimed, and this intrigued her. Sangilak followed it, informing @Tatkret before moving after the scent left behind.

Upon arriving to the place Thuringwethil has gone to, she is not at all easy to find. The winds move in such a way that make tracking a near impossibility, but Sangilak had the nose of her mother, a redeemed tracker that all had known of in Seahawk Valley and now, well beyond. Some of her children had acquired the infamous ability of hers, but not all. She happened to be one of them, and Sangilak was devoted to her task in finding the inkjet wolf.

The frigid winds did not chill the thick-furred Sangilak. She breathes in the springtime air but is reminded of her favored season as the temperatures seek purchase upon her. The woman is in her element as she spots Thuringwethil, and notes the distant look upon the woman's visage. Sangilak steps along side her, though is not soundless in her approach. One ear twists in the direction of Thuringwethil as she licks her chops. Sangilak's presence is an offer for aid; to begin assisting the other who had given her sanctuary.

*shakes fist* YOU WHIPPERSNAPPER *edits*

Warbone spent more time in the hollows beneath the volcano than he did on Sleeping Dragon itself. He slept here when he wasn't traveling or patrolling, and there were several reasons for this choice, not the least of which was his preference for the lowlands. Altitude quite simply made him irritable, and the less attitude he had, the less trouble he was likely to cause. Knowing this about himself, he sought decent rest in the boughs of Sleeping Dragon's base— the warmest of his selections being the wooded cleft that was Permafrost Hollows.

He was here now, keeping to his own company as was his want, but as the breeze lifted and swirled around him, he was able to pick up on the fairly recent scent of Thuringwethil. He followed it, curious, but aware that she was not explicitly looking for him. Otherwise she would have called.

The wolf made a noise to catch her attention when she came into view, but he found that she was not alone. Beside her is a wolf he's encountered before (or something), and he trotted up to them without reserve. His tail wagged slowly, cautious of the potential mood there, but nothing seems to have transpired so far. He stopped with several feet to spare between himself and them, his gaze shifting. If they had been alone, he would have greeted Sleeping Dragon's alpha in a more physical way, but as it were, he remained obstinately stoic in added company. "Commander." Warbone looked at her, pale eyes expectant.

When she expects to be alone, the sound of another comes from behind her and she turns to see her dark guest following along. Thuringwethil slows to a stop, curving enough to see her intent, before she begins her slow pace back in the direction she’d originally been going. The quiet company of her companion is enough to ease whatever tension in the back of her mind about being alone and enough to distract her while she sorts through the concerns floating around.

They do not share a word yet when her attention is broken to the other side to find Warbone approaching. He stops several feet away and, once more, her leisure trot does the same. “Warbone,” she addresses as he speaks her title. He seems softer in the moonlight but she shakes her gaze away to glance back at her companion, wondering how comfortable she’d gotten into Drageda in the last day or so. The knowledge that they’d crossed paths once before is lost on the commander.

“This is Sangilak,” she introduces, looking back to her warrior. She’d made a call when she returned with the duo but they’d taken time to rest their travel weary legs once they’d gone over the conditions of their stay. “She and her companion are guests of Drageda.”

It is an easy silence the duo moves in, and Sangilak is content with this. At the sound of another, her attentions divert to the wolf approaching. She recognized him by his scent, though it surprised her to see his station as subordinate. Sangilak herself felt her ears twitch atop her head at the thought, and listens as the nameless man names the woman she knew, largely, as 'Thuringwethil'. His moniker for her earns nothing from her, physically. Within she thinks of the Issumatar, and the armies amassed by her. The name Commander on a yearling is weighty, and difficult to understand; she did not equate it to the wolf whom had lived for years and years, her mother, but wondered the meaning of the name when related to the leader of the mount. She would ask, later; it did not seem a suitable time. She had never been privy to the inner workings of Drageda, but if she were to be or become a functioning part of it, Sangilak would implement herself into it in a manner that meant she was well-oiled for the smoothest transition.

His name was Warbone. She knows only few wolves by the name they were born with; she never asks, she never cared. What was a name? To Tartok, it was the beginning, it was who you had shown yourself to be, or a reminder. Sangilak had no use for names of outsiders when she knew scents. The name he bore did suit him in the tongue it was spoken, and Sangilak saw him now in full, and could appreciate the beast he was.

She was silent even still, though she nods as her name is given. It was as good as a hello as anything, from her, and her eyes do not move from him as her own thoughts form within her head. There is no making sense of them here and now, and so she does not think of them at all. Instead she silently looks out to the horizon again, enjoying the chilled air. Sangilak had followed Thuringwethil here perhaps to gain her own peace of mind; in her days of travel, there had been no time for the thought of a moment such as this.

Names are shared between them, and he regards Sangilak in quiet study. It was difficult at first to discern, but he noticed that she was young— not yet sexually mature— and therefore of very minor interest to the vast male. She was also lacking in the feminine features he was fond of, but saw a practicality to her that he preferred over looks. And thus was the extent of his observation. Eyes flickered to Thuringwethil, Commander only by title, and only in direct correlation to the ranks of Sleeping Dragon. His choice to obey her was just that, a choice. And it had been made by and large by a desire to rest in the assured safety of a pack, which currently was led under the guidance of a young, inexperienced female, whose potential he respected more than anything else about her.

Warbone was largely unpredictable, and he could decide to terminate their unspoken agreement at any moment, but for now, he was content not to have to think too much for himself. It was a welcome reprieve from years without any direction or followers to speak of. While he had the capacity and prowess to lead, he had been mostly disinterested in the venture if only because of the amount of responsibility that came with it— and Warbone had always appreciated his ability to come and go as he would. Thuringwethil had yet to prohibit him though, so he was disinterested in rebelling.

"A wolf— Reek— has settled into the grotto northwest of us. He seeks an audience with you," he said plaintively, twitching his ears as he watched her. He appeared neither eager to stay or leave, his face as impassive as his body language.

The introduction is only glossed over and Thuringwethil doesn’t linger on it. Sangilak remains silent, to no surprise, and Warbone moves on to business without any other pleasantries. She hasn’t seen much of one of her newest wolves so the mention of Reek catches her off guard. Each time she and Reek had spoken had been formal and the way the male presents the information doesn’t seem any different. 

“We will leave in two days,” she informs him. A grotto doesn’t sound familiar in her travels but she knows she hasn’t covered everything and the little bit of land hidden away on the other side of the glacier has eluded her. “You can tell me what else you know then,” she adds. If Warbone had come from there, he can leader her back, and what matters needed to be discussed beforehand would take place not in the company of their guest.

No details would be shared before her, and she did not begrudge them this. The information shared was likely not pertinent for her to know as a guest; where it something that involved the welfare of all those Thuringwethil kept, even those she hosted, she was sure it would at some later date be disclosed. If she was disappointed that nothing would be entrusted to her, it did not show; among Drageda she had no role, and nothing expected of her except perhaps that she carry her weight and not be a useless glutton. That was not her way; Sangilak was a creature who consistently needed to be doing something of use. 

She had learned something new regardless. Reek had settled within a grotto. Who was Reek to Thuringwethil?  Her eyes drifted to the wolf called Commander, then to Warbone, and back to Thuringwethil again. Reek, she rumbled, her voice gruff and deep, An ally? Or enemy? Sangilak asked only the minimum detail, wanting to know what it was she ought to expect from Thuringwethil's return. While she had been taught to be prepared and ready for anything, always, Sangilak had enough of her father in her to—in matters of blood and war—think ahead from time to time. Leadership often met with the enemy; were often requested, too, by them, to be ambushed. 

Warbone nodded once, punctuating the affirmation with a snort. "I shall await your call," he mused, pale eyes drifting slowly towards the burlier of the black she-wolves, and freely exploring her traits in a self-interested fashion. The stare was but a fraction of a moment, and he was already turning from the females, already plotting his next forty-eight hours as a stint to prepare for their journey. But nothing would go right if he didn't find an excellent place to sleep that night— leaving him well-rested for a (predicted) successful hunt the following morning— so he figured he should get started on his search. "Enjoy the night," he purred, drifting away in rhythmic plodding.

Warbone doesn't linger around for much longer. He's done his duty, received his orders, and then slinks back into the night leaving the young leader with her guest. Thuringwethil watches the large make disappear and only turns her head when she's sure he's gone. His scent lingers but she moves in the opposite direction, expecting Sangilak to follow once she's asked her questions.

"We'll see; he used to lead the Maplewood," she muses, uncertain herself. Reek established an agreement and when Thuringwethil demanded change, he received it as well as she expected. She reinforced the boundary she had yet to establish with the new leader and she expects to get her way again when she takes a seat in front of Reek in his new home.

They are ultimately not matters she wishes to discuss with someone not of her own but there's a comfort she can't deny.

"What is your plan here?" she asks and with a sidelong glance and lift of her brow, her attention is short lived on her dark companion. Thuringwethil focuses ahead of her, taking in what she can of the hollows cloaked in shadows.

Sangilak felt the eyes of Warbone, and turned to study him in much the same fashion. It was shamelessly done, and there was nothing sensual in the gleam of her eye. As he departed, she watched him go, exploring his movements and noting his stride. He was a fit male, strong. She noted no immediate weakness to him, but would find out in time for herself. Warbone knew for certain one of hers: arduous travel and her time as a lone wolf had weakened her. Fit though Sangilak may be, she could not hope to dominate a pack wolf in her condition.

As Thuringwethil moved, Sangilak waited but a moment to travel with her; her eyes still held to the retreating form of Warbone, her hard stare drifting to the other when she was spoken to again. The knowledge shared was taken into account and Sangilak sees the importance of the meeting, what it could mean. Sangilak maintains her stoicism despite the thoughts that come to her. We fight with you, Sangilak rumbled, speaking of herself and Tatkret; it mattered not the circumstance or the reason. Sangilak owed Thuringwethil that blind loyalty for the blind trust offered. She did not need any more explanation than what was given, she simply asked so that she and Tatkret might be prepared for what they might expect.

Another question was asked of her. Sangilak did not avoid the look, and met it with the flick of her ear. When Thuringwethil looks away, so too does Sangilak. To become, Sangilak admitted at length. Stronger, better, fiercer, worthier—Tartok each of these things were true and things she sought to become. To discover. To know. To survive. Sangilak said these things in earnest. Her ambition was at rest, though she had been trained to lead and often did so naturally. It was not something she recognized within herself, and if it was an inevitability she ignored it, for now. Sangilak had not yet found her mountain; when she did so, she felt perhaps then she would be able to answer Thuringwethil differently. For now? Her plan was simple. Sangilak did not think it fair to ask Thuringwethil the same; in any case, Sangilak felt that her plan was the same as any other. Was this not the plan of all wolves? Was this not the reason they existed? Born only to live another day, and when enough of those days had gone by the desire was to live for another.

The gap of time without Sangilak by her side didn’t go unnoticed and she turns her head slightly to peer into her peripheral in time to see her pick up her stride once more. Thuringwethil doesn’t slow and gives her a chance to come into step once more next to her. Slate grey eyes shift back in front of her, eyes wide to absorb what night around her will offer. The shadows cloaking her do well to hide and she enjoys the territory near her home so much that she desire to take it for herself. 

Sangilak’s devotion causes her to nod her head and a hint of a smile forms, but hidden by the darkness around her. She doesn’t expect Reek to be a problem and what she might find in the grotto in the next two days would be something she would worry about her way to visit.

“A spot can be here for you and yours, should you decide,” she offers, even if Sangilak’s words sound prosperous. She may want more than Drageda can give her, more than Thuringwethil can, but if Heda can use her now for the benefit of her wolves, she would. The dark wolf is young—perhaps younger than she is—but strong, ambitious. A great asset to Sleeping Dragon and soaking her in the culture of Drageda could leave a lasting impression, perhaps, that would give them both benefits later in life.

The offer was met with a blink. But Sangilak does not need to think on this for long; she is a survivalist, and also, a wolf. Pack-life was appealing to her, and with ambition to lead a mere flicker within her heart Sangilak sees no reason not to take the woman up on her offer. Although she has decided, Sangilak knows she must bring this up to Tatkret. Together they would decide, though the way she responds to Thuringwethil would enable her companion to know the offer was all but accepted. Sangilak kept pace with Thuringwethil, rolling her shoulders before her eyes catch sight of a rabbit on edge, fleeing foolishly from them the moment they were spotted. With no warning whatsoever, Sangilak launches after the thing, feeling as though it had been too long since she had stretched her legs in such a way. 

Sangilak doesn't speak but Thuringwethil doesn't necessarily need a verbal answer. The dark wolf is comfortable, as much as she can be in a stranger's territory, but acclimates well despite being a guest. Her gaze returns forward in time to avoid a root sticking up from the ground but the sudden movement ahead causes her to come to a stop anyway.

The younger wolf darts off and her body feels an instinctive jerk to gallop after but she halts after a jump and a half. The pursuit disappears into the shadows and without a lot of effort on her part, strides until she finds her companion again with or without the success of a kill.