Dragoncrest Cliffs hell, heal

@Melchior! Sorry for this crap start.

Arlo spent the next few days lying low on the radar, exploring the forest and making himself as useful as he can. He’d managed to clean himself free of dirt and blood and given his body a good night or two of rest and within no time, he started to feel back to normal. A few more days and a few more meals and he’s certain he’ll fill out to his healthy status once more and his training and work can resume as they had in Trigeda and perhaps he’ll even come across Tanja soon, should the man still want to be his mentor.

He knows of the cavern near the back of the lake and while he may have been a Seageda wolf before, he had not earned his place in Drageda and Thuringwethil knows little about him since he’d been a child. He does not press to try and work his way into the rendezvous site for the dragedakru but he lingers near in case he finds anyone to come across. He hovers near the lake, taking a drink when he’s close enough, before backing up and wandering aimlessly around the clearing to the left until something crosses his path.

It was good to be somewhere he could consider home. Finally, they could rest easy, eat their fill, and regain their strength. Though he had certainly been weary, Melchior's optimism had never once faltered. He had faith in his kin, faith that they would find their Heda once more. Sure enough, they had, and he could start to practice using the word home once again.

Perhaps unlike Arlo, he had promptly thrown himself into the pack life, meeting his clan mates and making himself useful. Recently he had taken to doing rounds along the borders, and helping Portia gather plants. All of that was fine and dandy, but it did not ease his sense of restlessness. He had been on the road too long to remember how to settle down.

Eager to seek out familiarity, he tracked down Arlo, who was haunting the area adjacent to the lakeside, seemingly without intent. Melchior loped lazily to greet him, offering a friendly wuff, and a wave of his dark tipped tail. "Have you settled in?" He queried as he approached, boyish grin sprawled lazily across his face. Rounding on him, the yearling attempted to bump his left shoulder against Arlo's right shoulder. "I hope I haven't forgotten any training! It's been a long time since we had the opportunity to do anything more than survive."

By the crunch of snow and dead grass, Arlo hears the approach. His ears swivel forward and he turns to see the mismatched brother coming his way. The white boy freezes in his spot, feeling the wind tussle his fur and a chill cling to him. The north is far colder but the protection of the forest in Trigeda versus the harsh wind in his birth place had been nice. Arlo does not complain and when Melchior is close enough, he nods his head to answer the question.

"For the most part," he confesses. Where they can and can't go is still there and his time is spent in the redwood forest finding places to keep out of the cold until he has earned his keep. Soon, he hopes, for the chill is often getting to him.

When his brother speaks his worry, Arlo frowns. He'd found a mentor in Tanja before the brute left for Drageda and yet he'd come across him. Soon, he hopes, and his own training can begin again but for the most part he feels confident in what he's learned so far. Even in his mentor's absence, he hadn't fallen slack. "We can see what you've got?" he suggests. He knows he isn't in his prime but that was days off and it didn't mean he could become lazy in the meantime.

It's much better than being out on our own. He warmly reassures his brother, speaking their native language (which Hero won't bother to look up at work), and leaning in to give Arlo a comforting nuzzle. They had traveled mid winter to a place they had never been to. Now they would not have to worry about other predators, and there was plenty of food around. Just being allowed to live within Drageda's territory felt like a luxury.

Better to keep in practice, eh? He hummed, pleased that Arlo was not too tired to indulge him. Melchior found no joy in sparring, but he was determined to prove himself, putting all his effort into doing whatever he could to help the clan, to improve upon gis skills. This was his only goal, and with his one track mind, he seemed impervious to all else. Don't worry, we'll conserve our strength for more important things. He added to indicate that their tussle would be friendly, a mere brushing up on what they might have forgotten during their travels.

Stepping away a few paces, he prepared himself, falling in to a low hunter's stance. He focused on his defenses, letting his tail hang near his hocks, tucking his chin to shield his throat, and lowering his ears; these were all easy targets. Then, rolling his shoulders forward, he dashed to the side, once again targeting Arlo's left shoulder. With his right shoulder braced, he attempted to ram it just behind the meaty section of Arlo's shoulder, hoping to start off by disrupting his brother's balance, maybe even throwing him down to the ground.

so you can just go ahead and follow thru with whatever was rolled (i dont remember)!

ROUND ONE
Rolling for Melchior's 1st attack: 3! [defended]
Rolling for Arlo's 1st attack: 2! [attack partially]

With the new proposition, Arlo shifts back a step or two. His feet are still tired from travel but they have come a long way over the last few days. It has been some time since he had a proper spar and forcing himself into it seems like the best way to get over the hump. Hopeful that Tanja will one day reunite with him, he wants to be able to impress the older male that he hadn’t backtracked more than to be expected.

Melchior sets himself up so as everything shifts, Arlo curves himself around to avoid the quick ram of his brother. He feels nothing more than a light brushing but when he’s close enough, his jaws lash out to grab him by the scruff and push force him down. His teeth come upon something but it is not the location he needs and so he stumbles forward to keep his balance as they tussle through the light dusting of snow.