Ankyra Sound meanwhile, buster was waiting in the hallway.

The days since his arrival in the Saltwinter pack had seemed to drag on. Not due to any unhappiness at having joined their ranks, but for the simple fact that everything felt so strange. Whittier had only ever known the cozy world of a pack run by his parents and filled with his family. Even his time as a lone wolf, away from them had been blessedly without incident, and thus fairly comfortable. He'd managed food when he'd needed it, found company when he'd grown too lonesome, and easily avoided danger by simple lucky circumstance when it came too close to favoring him as a target.

But everything was changed now. The yearling's arrival at Saltwinter had been precessed by a plague of locusts - something that had caused him to consider suicide for the very first time in his young life (bugs were not his thing). And now he lived in a strange world that had been ravaged by the beasts of his nightmares, lead by a woman that seemed to be wolf, but also felt so very reminiscent of one of those beasts. Not locust-y so much, but definitely insect-like. His brother was here at least, but not even Jorunn - SHIT gat dammit, Kjalarr (he was never going to get that one right..) - seemed to be the same wolf he'd grown up with. It was to be expected for they'd known each other only as silly little boys, but still. He'd grown up with the beta, in this lands, in a world of green and joy. But none a speck of what should have been familiar actually was.

But there was one thing at least that provided a constant, somewhat odd and unexpected, comfort to him. And that was the ocean.

Whit had never seen it from so close before. He remembered a time on Nova Peak when he'd stumbled upon a vantage point that gave him a far off glimpse, but never before had he stood as he did now - with his toes buried in sand while the tide grazed lazily across them. It was soothing to turn away from the dreary, barren world behind him to look out at the huge body of water and see exactly what he'd always expected. The sea had been immune to the rape of the locusts upon the earth. That in itself was a comfort, but also it reminded him of that moment of his childhood. And of his time spent alone, and the adventure and wonder he'd felt.

Whitter sighed, knowing he should likely being doing something more useful with himself than staring at water. But he didn't move, in spite of that feeling. He needed a moment, for after all - he would likely starve to death any day now, so why not spend his last looking at the one thing that made him feel even the slightest bit content?

Maude had returned with little fanfare and merged seamlessly with the other member of her crew: scavenging for food. It wasn't a far cry from what she had done before the locusts attacked; they had been close to starving before anyway. Now things were made worse by the fact that there was little food for everyone, not just them.

But it didn't seem to outsiders that Maude minded. Oh no. Maude seemed to relish in the famine. Perhaps it was the lack of food enhancing her madness. Perhaps she found some sick pleasure from seeing everyone else starving like she had her whole life. Perhaps she liked the fact that they had very very good reason now to raid other packs. Whatever it was, it put a strange skip in her step, and a song on her lips.

Old Billy Riley was a dancing master.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley! Old Billy Riley!
Old Billy Riley,master of a drogher.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley! Old Billy Riley!
Master of a drogher bound for Antigua.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley! Master of a drogher.


She approached the beach jovially, ready to scour the sands for some food to fill her belly and the crew's caches. But the plump wolf caught her eye first. She had seen the remains of a wolf in the sand and in the caches: cannibalism wasn't taboo any longer. She licked her lips, pausing momentarily in her song.

Old Billy Riley has a nice young daughter.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley!
Oh Missy Riley, little Missy Riley.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley! O, Missy Riley!
Had a pretty daughter, but we can't get at her.
Old Billy Riley, oh, Billy Riley! Had a pretty daughter.


She walked up to the wolf's side, smiling but feeling the corner of her mouth crash downward slightly at Caiaphas' powerful scent. So's ye's a new crewmate, then, lad? She said, regaining her mask of joviality.

Whittier didn't realize what he was listening to when first he heard the voice. For a few seconds, he didn't even realize it was something that was actually happening outside of his head. His ears perked to attention and his gaze re-focused on his surroundings. What in the hell was that?

The yearling turned to stare curiously across the beach. He didn't see anyone at first, and yet the singing continued. He was turning to look the other direction when she came up right alongside him, causing him to jolt away from her an inch in surprise. He listened to her words, but failed to really understand them through her unfamiliar dialect. "I'm Whittier," he said, taking a stab at guessing what it was she was after. The girl held the scent of pack upon her fur, so he was not too alarmed by her presence, except for how suddenly it had come upon him.

She flashed a wider, more malicious smile as he flinched away. Name's Maude, lad! She jumped up slightly, emphasizes her words. Nice t'meet ye, mate. Find any food out 'ere? She asked, her stomach growling right on cue. She could do with a bite or too. Of him? Nah, can't do that, he's a crewmate, unfortunately. Though together the both of them could find something a lot faster than if one of them went on their own.

What kind of name is Maudlad? Whittier wondered to himself as she introduced herself with a creepy grin, almost completely misunderstanding her. He was not inclined to question it, though, so he spared himself some embarrassment for the moment at least. Plus, it wasn't as though his own name was any more "normal" to others, but who was he to put himself in someone else's shoes and gain some perspective?

He heard the rumble of her stomach as she questioned whether or not he'd seen any sign of food and his ears dropped slightly as he turned away with a frown. "Not a damn thing," he replied, feeling the creeping of frustration returning to his feeling. He had hoped that joining a pack would have helped save him from starvation in the wilds, but it seemed he had accomplished nothing more than found some companions that would starve to death at his side.

Maude barked out a laugh at the boy's frown. Mebbe ye 'aven't been searchin' hard enough, lad. Famine or not, the sea still held its treasures, occasionally washing them onto shore. Experienced scavengers, such as she, would know that there was something to be found on the shore. 'ave ye ever lived by t'shore? The boy was definitely a land-lubber. His slightly rounded frame (still evident even in the famine) told Maude all she needed to know about him. He was soft. How and why the Cap'n let someone like him in was beyond her, but while he was here, he could at least learn to fend for himself.

Whittier felt warmth flood his cheeks at the woman's response. He had expected her to share in his frustration; to admit that she'd found nothing either. But instead, she suggested that he wasn't trying hard enough. She then proceeded to ask if he'd ever lived by the ocean before, and he was quick to read condescension in the question even though it may not even have been there. He felt self-conscious before her easy humor, and it was easy for the teen to succumb to every perceived slight due to it.

"No," Whittier replied gloomily with a slight shrug, as though he wasn't at all bothered, "We lived on mountains and forests. Never by oceans. Or even... Y'know, big lakes." He felt the need to explain this to her, as though it would abscond him from any blame for not knowing how to find food in this place by the sea.

So's ye's a land-lubber then? Figured as much. She looked the boy over, reinforcing her initial thoughts by running her golden eyes over his still plump frame. What made ye come ta t'shore anyhow? Why a boy like him would willingly join a crew led by Cap'n Caiaphas escaped her...this crew was for the harsh and foolhardy, not plump little boys who've never lived by the ocean in their entire lives. This poor fool...they're going to eat him alive (literally!).

Whittier was totally lost with this chick. He had never heard the term "land-lubber" and couldn't really follow when she kept saying "ye". Even so, he went ahead and nodded when she asked, recognizing it as a question simply by her inflection. It was pure luck that he wasn't lying when he agreed to whatever she was calling him.

"I've been looking for my sister, and just happened to find my brother here instead," Whit explained, his gaze shifting inland as he began to contemplate his exit from this conversation, "Joru--Kjalarr, I mean. He's my brother."

@Whittier

Really?! She exclaimed, her eyes brightening as she laughed, first internally, then externally and heartily. Yer brother...is Kjalarr?! The thought of these two individuals being related was hilarious to her, given their large differences. Kjalarr was strong and scarred, looking like a true warrior, while this one...he was practically a stranded whale.