Blackfeather Woods dark hiding place

tagging @Potema since she's leading him around

They made good time despite his weakness, and his silence. The boy followed at her heel in the manner of a hungry zombie, lethargic and stuttering with his movements, not at all graceful. But he had no need for grace. Crescent was still young enough to find his own body disobeying his wishes anyway, so it wasn't such a stretch to find him bumbling across the grassland or nearly walking in to a tree, on occasion. He was no sleuth. Luckily his guide was as pale as himself — perhaps even more so, and glowing in the light — so Potema was his beacon, and he made sure not to deviate too far from the path she had set for them. When the shadows of the trees began to slip across his face Crescent slowed further, and then stopped, because he could smell the many warning signs in place — the many marks of wolves he did not know — and so he stood cowering on the territory edge, unable to go that final step.

He followed dutifully, at least until they made it to the border. She crossed it with ease, but turned back to see him cowering, one step outside her home. She didn't goad him further; he hadn't been accepted yet. She said nothing, tipping her head back to call her brother @Damien. She didn't summon @Cicero specifically, but knew that he would slink in and watch from the shadows if he wanted.

With her summoning finished, she stepped back towards the silent boy, quietly urging Damien to hurry up. The boy was sickly and starving; even if he didn't allow him in, she would find a way to keep him alive.

I was waiting for someone to reply, but I guess I'll just... awkwardly keep this going...

He wanted to follow her, of course, but the plague of scents made him fall back and cower at the door; the boy was trembling, nervous and hunched within a patch of shadow and reed, and he looked from the shadows upon the white woman, wondering if this was the right course of action. Crescent's hunger was insurmountable. He knew as well as she did that his survival hinged upon this moment, and yet a part of him wished to flee the scene when faced with the prospect of not being good enough. Or maybe the simple idea of being foreign, as he could remember the many stories of wolves at the gate of his natal pack being turned away — or worse, torn apart. The boy envisioned himself as a rabbit caught in the sights of this pack now, and was unsure of his next move.

It didn't take much scrutiny to figure out what he was being called for. Potema had done such thing repeatedly over the course of the last few weeks, and every time she brought yet another lost soul in search for shelter in Blackfeather Woods.

Having been in watch along the borders, it took Damien but a moment to find his sister awaiting at the edge of the territory. He, the master, steeped out of the shadows heedlessly, stating his level with high signals, and approached with sure foot. But one thing took him by surprise. This time, it was not a pup that hid behind the witch's skirts, but a tall creature with sharp bones. The dark prince looked up and down at him, scanning his body with despise. He did not speak a word, but when his eyes finally sought out his sister they were full of questions.

They waited, longer than she was used to with her brother in charge. After staring into the Woods' depths for a few moments, the witch turned back, hovering over Crescent's body as she quietly willed her brother to come to the borders.

And he came. Breaking from the shadows as they had been taught to, he stared silently at Crescent's prostrate form, then matching her gaze.

This is Crescent. He was in the eastern meadow when I found him, She hoped that the young boy would have enough energy to pull himself upwards — already Damien's response was less than positive — He is lost and starving. I wish to take care of him. If he wishes to stay, then he will, but if not, he will leave as soon as he can. Crescent gave no response to his permanent residence in Blackfeather, which wouldn't help him get past Damien's scrutiny. But Potema's eye burned with the desire to care for him, staring back at her brother with such intensity. It was obvious that, no matter what he said, she would do something about Crescent.

As desperate as the boy was, it had been ingrained within his spirit to never buckle nor to ever beg; even now as he sat dying from hunger on the doorsteps of his salvation, he would not look to the oncoming shadow and cry out. Crescent had a warriors spirit trapped in his feeble body. He had the pride bestowed to him by his predecessor, his great sense of self worth; nd while he knew he needed to show this value off and get the dark man to see this worth, he averted his eyes and watched Potema. She had been his guide so far, and she had made promises. He did not know if they could be trustedone entirely, but the shy boy was desperate - just as she was - for the outcome of the ongoing conversation.  At the very least, Crescent pulled his head and shoulders up, and supported his torso for a shuddering moment.

The male seems to have not even the slightest strength to even stand upright, and Damien looks at him without hiding his disgust. He knows Potema is bringing him to the forest to house him for some reason, but it isn't until she confirms this thought with actual words that Damien reacts.

"What good it that to me? What good is that to Blackfeather Woods?" he barks, keeping the rage contained in an attempt to at least hear his sister and her reasoning out. "Are you willing to utilize our resources on this runt when we're so close t winter, sister? Is that what you're asking me to approve?" he demands, eyes slaying her own with stoic rage.

Potema didn't flinch at Damien's rage, instead feeling her own anger grow. I am aware of what it would entail for me to bring him in in this state, She hissed, her eye narrowing as she stood in front of Crescent's frame. She wasn't that stupid. She was painfully aware of winter's onset as fruits ripened in their attempt to spread their lineage before winter froze them under snow and ice.

If we nurse him back to health, he could be an asset to us through the winter, Despite his malnourished state, Potema had seen the promise of a warrior or scout in him. He could be useful. Couldn't Damien see that? Yes, we have more mouths to feed, but we need more hunters as well. How was he supposed to continue their Mother's lineage if there was no one to feed the children that they bore? But if you won't take him in, I will take care of him myself. I made a promise, Damien.

They spoke of him as if he were inanimate, but for all intents and purposes, he was. A piece of detritus caught up in the wave of Potema, and happily so. Or as near to content as Crescent could feel at this point; his sense of pleasure had been dulled by the many failings in his life. He felt the hunger in his belly and the weariness in his muscles the way one might feel the warmth from the sun: constant, uncomfortable in large doses, but not entirely unpleasant. He had dulled to that too.

Yet as he waited for a verdict, the boy came to the conclusion that he would not be guaranteed anything here. Potema had promised him one thing, but this dark figure was ready to counter that promise. If he were to be given any protection, food, or security, Crescent would have to speak for himself — prove himself. It was a sickening thought. Yet he fought against gravity and the quaking of his limbs, and he got to his feet, tumultuous as he felt. His withers quaked, and the curve of his tail served as an extra limb to keep him propped up, but the boy did rise.

He turned his sunken features upon Damien and quietly — yet passionately — intoned, I am good, he drawled, not making much sense at first, but he was not a talker and it would take some warming up of the tongue for honey to flow off of it. I.. will do anything. Owe a.. a debt. The sharpness of the look upon his face was exacerbated by the clarity in those bright eyes, and Crescent turned them upon Damien without a single thought to his own safety, knowing it could be read as a challenge — but in a way he was presenting the dark wolf with such a thing.

A challenge. A promise. I will belong to her. And by proxy, the boy gave possession of himself over to Blackfeather Woods in its entirety.

So so sorry!

With winter so close, and the seemingly never-ending pup arrival in Blackfeather Woods, Potema's suggestions made Damien's mind take two sides at once. First, there was little food to spare, with not as many hunters as Damien would want to have. And then there was the promise of becoming one wolf stronger if Potema was right this once. There were many things to think through, and Damien would have needed time to come to a conclusion, time that Crescent did not seem to have. Damien wouldn't have had any problem with simply shrugging the problems off and chasing the bone-sack away, had he not spoken for himself.

Damien's eyes turned with their cold to the pale and ragged wolf. His own voice saying those things made everything different, for Damien hadn't expected him to talk in such state. He promised he would pledge his life to Potema, which pleased Damien. He knew where his sister's loyalty resided.

Damien fell silent for a moment, staring at the skeletal wolf while came to a conclusion. "Make sure you remember that," he warned, and turned to his sister with the same freeze to his gaze. "Keep him alive," he allowed, and took his leave. But those words meant much more than just that and Potema would know. Damien did not take oaths lightly.