King Elk Forest when i was a child

If there was one word that Arutro would use to describe the skeletal state of the world around him, death would have been more than sufficient enough. Beasts still lingered in the barren remains of what had, no doubt aided by imagination, lush and brimming with life: predator and prey alike — yet, despite the faint scent trails he'd picked upon he did not see the scurrying under paw, nor hear the familiar click of joints of larger prey. He assumed, by the littering of bug carcasses underfoot that locusts were to blame for the devastation wrought upon the Wilds, whether it was considered lucky or not part of Arturo was glad that he'd avoided the swarm. The aftermath was a different nightmare all together, he surmised, but he was not in the state as to which worry was a constant annoyance, yet. Sure, there was a rumble in his stomach but he was a survivor by nature. He persevered: that was his skill.

He took to what had likely once been a lush forest, shrugging through the skeletal underbrush and naked limbs, pausing long enough to lower his nose to the ground to inhale the smell of bracken beneath him. The scent of decaying bugs filled his nostrils but beneath that there was a warm aroma of some small woodland creature, relatively fresh at that. Intrigued, he followed it hoping that it had not taken refuge into some place he could not reach.

Ambrosia was out on a search for... Well, something. She'd told Brandy of her departure, leaving in the dead of night. Why? Just a burning in her paws that told her to go. She'd been absent longer than she'd hoped, and was sure Sebastian would be upset she'd spend so much time gone, but this new land was just begging to be explored. The tawny female was just starting to convince herself that it was time to turn her bulky body back towards home when she scented another. It was a stranger, a male, but Ambrosia headed towards it with a wag in her tail. She was outside of pack lands, after all, far from the fen, and was a lot less defensive. Who knows, maybe this wolf would come and see if Sebastian would accept him into the pack, or then again maybe they would be mere friends. Hell, they could be enemies for all she knew, but it was the experience she craved.

thanks for joining! c: based his failure at hunting on this dice roll

 

It became apparent to the Fearghal monarch that he would not eat this morning. The trail was fresh but he realized as it grew poignant in strength that there was the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air and sure enough a smeared blood trail across the bracken and locusts carcasses revealed that he was too late. Something had beaten him to it, left it devoured, little more than gristle, bone and an untouched head remaining. A shake of his head was given and a soft noise of discontent rumbled from deep within his chest moments before a low snort left his black, leathery nostrils. He remained for a few seconds longer, though he knew if there were any other small woodland creatures that had been occupying this little area the sound of this rabbit being devoured would have, no doubt, scared them off.

It was when he turned to head deeper into the forest's heartland that he discerned quickly that he was not as alone as he'd once assumed. Her scent carried faintly upon the wind, yet as she neared he heard the heavy footfalls of her approach, and soon his fiery red-orange gaze touched upon her, an orange-tan with obsidian colored mask, throat, under's and legs. His gaze flickered down, lazily, to the woman's paws, eyes drawn by the heavy scars they bore. For a second, he was contemplative before he shrugged it off. His ears slicked back to rest atop his skull at half mast as he stared at her in a pensive silence, intent not to be the first one to break the silence.

He'd already noticed her by the time he came into her line of sight, and her lemon eyes flashed cautiously. Her wide, inky paws slowed her down till she was at a halt. When he didn't seem willing to go one way or another, Ambrosia gave a bit of a push.  She kept her distance, calling out to him in a friendly tone and giving a warm smile, but muscles were ready to respond to aggression. The orange female had no qualms to fighting. 
          "Hello. I'm Ambrosia."
She watched for the brown and black male's reaction, admiring the different hues and markings of his pelt. It was evident that his blood was mixed with that of another canine: coyote, if her eyes didn't decieve her. 
 Not that it mattered. He would be treated as he should: however he treated her.

since i don't think i stated what time of the day this took place, i went with afternoon - hope that's ok!

 

She offered him a greeting, simple and her name soon followed nary a breath after. Her tone was perceived by the bithiúnach as amiable, and the smile she flashed him was warm. Following his silent moments before, the debonair beast contemplated it such a rare thing. His reputation had proceeded him to the neighboring packs of Quicksilver Hollow and it took some reminding that in these Wilds his reputation had yet to follow him. Nevertheless, it clung to him like a parasite and the Fearghal deduced that it would not take long for word to spread. It rarely did. There was some part of Arturo, the very oppressed part of him that considered a simpler life, that considered these Wilds as a fresh start, a chance to find his redemption ark; but such things did not interest the melanistic coywolf and as quickly as the sliver of consideration came Arturo was quick to toss the errant prospect aside, his scoff at the idea contained in, quite literally, the nick of time. He passed it off as a small yawn and stretched as if to put off that he'd just recently awoken from a nap.

“Afternoon, Miss,” The dapper Fearghal monarch offered her, every bit cordial and mannerly. He saw no reason why this couldn't remain cordial. He had half expected the wolves of these Wilds to be driven mad and feral by the skeletal state of their home — and was left pleasantly surprised that it wasn't the case. He was in no mood to fight, not when his energy could be better spent in keeping food in his belly. If his intuition was correct, surviving the pestilence that wracked these lands would take much of his focus, strength and time. “I am Arturo; Arturo Fearghal.” His sire-name was the most important part of his introductions: thus he always included it. He wanted those he came across to remember it — regardless of which side they saw of him.

Thats fine :3

Something seemed off in his reaction, but Ambrosia didn't look too much into it. Her body, however, stayed on guard, senses cast out for possible danger. The coffee-colored wolf gave her a name, Artuo Fearghal, and her smile didn't falter. For a moment, though, she wondered what to say. This was no mission, not for Sebastian anyway, but she was scouting out the land: that counted for something, right? If Broken Antler Fen ever needed to move, or hunt away from home, Ambrosia would know possible spots! 
         "Are you from around here?"
It was clear that she wasn't, if not before her words. The tawny woman didn't know this land, and clearly wasn't dominant over his presense. If he were to come back, however, he would likely see a different her inside the borders of her home: at least it wouldn't be aimed at him, not unless this conversation went sour. If he was, well she might have to get the hell out of here, but there were no borders that she could remember. Again, she wondered if he would be her newest packmate.

Her chummy smile did not appeared to be a permanent fixture to her face, the bithiúnach absently considered. He supposed he should be — at the very least — grateful that she did not intend to scuff or pick a fight with him; though picking fights in these hard days was an instigation that the Fearghal would only think as foolish. Perhaps beyond foolish, if there ever was such a thing. Her voice carried her inquiry to Arturo's ears, which cupped forth to let her know that he was paying attention, only to swivel to the sides of his skull as the question processed. “No,” the well-mannered Fearghal responded with honesty. There was little sense in lying and the idea of acting like he knew these lands well enough without his reputation being known was rather unappealing to the vain coywolf.

“I come from a place South of these Wilds,” He admitted, albeit he kept it vague. He wasn't intentionally trying to hide: but he saw little need to name his natal pack. Where he came from ceased to matter in these Wilds. The past would always remain relevant but he did not live in his past. Instead, the Fearghal monarch and sovereign kept his gaze and focus steady upon the horizon and what the future he would make for himself here. He had detected the mingling scent of others upon her fur, deducing that she was a pack wolf but he wondered how far from home she'd traversed. He hadn't scented any packs nearby upon his arrival. “And you?” He offered in return.

The feeling that something was off grew when he seemed vague, and for a moment Ambrosia wondered if he was a bad guy or something. Thank god they weren't close to the fen, Sebastian would be furious if she brought someone harmful towards home. Arturo didn't seem to be lying, but he wasn't telling her everything either. Alas, she was no longer keen to bring him home. 
     "My daughter and I came from the west, but we settled over those mountains."
She flicked an ear behind her to indicate what mountains she meant, but also stayed vague. There were many packs over those mountains, and he had no way of knowing unless he followed her back. She would take the long way home, she decided. For now, however, there was still no harm in staying and getting to know him better. Perhaps she was wrong to worry?

It would seem as their sparse conversation continued on that Ambrosia seemed less forthcoming towards Arturo as she'd been in the very beginning. Whether this new hesitancy was a wise choice or a not was not for him to decide. The truth was straightforward: if Arturo had wanted to do her harm he'd have done it by now and for whatever it was worth she could take a small comfort from that if she wished. She hadn't done anything to warrant him to do her ill, and if there was one thing he prided himself upon it was being the ever dapper gentleman. Still, she offered him more information than she'd needed to — whether she'd intended to or not. She was as vague as he was about her home, indicating what mountains she spoke of with a gesture of her muzzle but informed him that she'd traveled with her daughter.

He was a parent himself, but he'd long since ceased controlling their lives. Bowie, his middle son, had left the Hollow a few months prior to Arturo's own departure, though to the Fearghal monarch's best knowledge his other children: Bain and his daughters, Cearney and Devin had remained behind with their mother and grandmother; but what they chose to do with their lives was no longer his place to decide. As much as it pained Arturo, he'd settled himself to accept the knowledge that he would likely never see them again. Despite being grown: they still meant the world to him, and they always would. For a moment, the coywolf allowed his vagueness to drop like a veil as he spoke, “For now, my children and I have gone our own ways, I envy that your daughter has remained with you.” but if it would last past that was not for him to say. Just because Arturo would never tell them they couldn't venture out and find themselves in the same way he'd done didn't mean he didn't feel their absence.

Had the thought come to the young warrior, it would have been a comfort. She only worried that he would change his mind in being nice to a stranger, not that he already would have hurt her if it were his wish. Instead, however, she busied herself in making sure there was no other possible dangers.
Her ears once again perked towards him at his speak of children, and Ambrosia couldn't help but grin again. The tawny woman hadn't forced her daughters company, rather she'd only just grown enough TO leave her. The mother was still finding it hard to let her only living baby go, as she'd only ever had one litter. She'd been lucky that Brandy followed her into the same pack.
"She's my only pup, and only just old enough to go her own way when we joined this pack. I raised her myself, as a loner. I must say, now that she's found a mate and is all grown up, its rather hard for me to accept. Thats actually the reason I'm out here, I needed time to myself."
Ammie found herself a little more open than she wanted to be, but it was nice to be able to talk to someone who knew the pain of this. She didn't realize her stance relaxing just a little bit, but kept her sad lemon eyes on him.

Arturo did not fail to notice the grin that had pulled the corners of Ambrosia's lips upwards, but, stoic as he was he did not return it. It'd been some time since Arturo Fearghal could say he'd smiled...he couldn't remember. Perhaps when his children had been young — full of such innocent love and wide-eyed awe of the world. Leading the Family had always been his ambition, ever since he began to build it but Arturo would have lied if he said that he didn't find an altruistic joy in being a father. In fact, he would be quick to say it was when he'd been the happiest. Watching his children grow and integrate themselves into the Family, but mostly he missed them in their younger months. Of course they were little devils (could he expect any less; he deserved everything they gave him and then some) and he'd had to lay down the law and force him to place action behind his words but he realized he would give anything to have those days back. For his eldest children that was no longer a possibility, but he could have more.

He would have more children.

“I have four,” Arturo admitted, taking a quick second to marvel over how, seconds ago they'd been ...not hostile but certainly not overly warm towards one another, and now they'd found something they had in common. “Two boys and two girls.” It was ...admirable Arturo considered: her raising her daughter by herself. That had to have been extremely hard. It had be hard raising four and he'd had an entire pack at his disposal to assist him and his lover. “They grow up fast.” Luckily, he had not waited too late to discover the joys of fatherhood and was still plenty young to see numerous Fearghal children into the world yet.

Despite having given up everything for Brandy to have a fair life, giving up the position of lead protector and one day alpha, her greatest joy was in that girls soul. Being a mother changed her entire world, even though it was all her fault she didn't have more children. 
Not that she didn't want more, of course. She HOPED for more. To have puppies, however, one needed a mate. Sebastian had already expressed a love of Pearl, and he'd been the only one to spark her interest in her lifetime. His rejection had hit her hard, but then she found the life of scouting. The tawny woman wasn't exactly looking for a mate, but she would lie if she didn't say she looked at most males in consideration. Arturo had of course made that list, but Ammie wasn't sure she could handle someone so....Serious? The word to describe him slipped her mind, and it didn't seem to be coming to her. Not cocky or arrogant, but perhaps more than pride? Nonetheless, she was too much of a playful, stubborn female.
"I have only the one surviving daughter of my only litter. The past year has gone by so fast, changed so much: and now I'm left alone."

A silence had settled over the pair of them, Arturo not deigning to break it, and it seemed that his companion had a similar thought. Perhaps she, like him, was lost in the memories of what had once been. An almost perfect life. If not for the shadow that loomed over him, cutting him down even as he strove to rise above her over and over he had nearly had everything. A brief moment of confusion followed as the woman broke the silence they'd ordained between them, but quickly remembered the topic of their briefly trailed off conversation: their children. Ambrosia admitted to the Fearghal sovereign that her daughter was her only surviving child of her only litter. Perhaps the coywolf felt a brief stab of pity in his blackened heart for her. He'd known the love of four children, but he did not imagine that she would have felt any less love from her daughter, then he did from four. As she spoke it, Arturo was left to assume that things were well between them and that always struck Arturo as a good sign; a sign he drew from his own complicated relationships and standings with Cynbel and Boadicea. “They were handfuls even with a pack to help my lover and I raise them.” Arturo rather thought that Ambrosia was lucky her daughter had lived as it was. He very rarely heard of children of loners living longer than a few months, at most. It took a pack to raise pups, after all, and there would never be anything to convince him otherwise.

After his comment, another silence enveloped them. The womans inky paws were growing antsy, and she was ready to continue her journey: no longer would she be turning back, but going fully around the mountain. Sebastian could wait, right? Surely she wouldn't be too sorely missed. 
         "It was nice talking with you, but I should probably get going. Take care, maybe we'll meet again someday."
With a last smile and a short period of stillness, giving him a chance to reply, Ambrosia took her leave. The tawny female turned her back on the male, but was hasty in giving any chance at sudden aggression; though she'd be surprised if he really did come at her. 

Thanks for the thread, we should do it again sometime <3 Feel free to post again, but you can archive otherwise.

“Perhaps,” Was all the coywolf spoke to her, out of teachings to be the epitome of debonair. With that Arturo watched Ambrosia take her leave. He lingered until she was out of sight, giving a soft shake of his head before he turned and headed in the opposite direction of her, intent to explore more of the skeletal forest he'd taken brief refuge in.