Larksong Grotto Lately, I find myself throwing stones

It was the buzzing of flies that drew her attention, soon accompanied by the unmistakable odor of death. Wildfire narrowly avoided retching, holding her breath until the nausea passed and then breathing primarily through her mouth as she inched closer to the corpse. There wasn't much left to it: just a skull, a rib cage and a smear of blackened blood baked by the July sun. There was just enough stinking, rotting flesh to keep the bugs busy now that the scavengers were done with it, she noted before quickly backpedaling away from the remains.

She gulped in several mouthfuls of fresh air as she peered at her surroundings. Larksong Grotto, she thought to herself, remembering bits and pieces of its sordid history with Drageda. Wildfire was pretty sure nobody had lived here for a while now—although apparently someone had died here recently...—yet she let her muzzle drift toward the ground as she combed for scents. Maybe she would find something of interest here and maybe she wouldn't. But it was worth a look around.

On one thing did Athan pride himself: he was no scavenger. Fresh blood and fresh kills were the feast of the hunter. Let the ghouls and lesser hunters tear the flesh from old rotting corpses.

But he was led to the body nonetheless. It was strange in that way, how it attracted him. Perhaps it was the stench of death. But it was a long dead creature. Perhaps it was the promise of some live beings nearby it. For that the promise was made and kept.

He saw the red woman backpedal from the remains and approached then, his voice rumbling out of sheer curiosity, not expecting an answer. Someone you knew?

Rather suddenly, another wolf appeared with a question on his lips. Wildfire started and went rigid, staring for a moment—his stripe made her think of the Blackthorns—before glancing at the remains behind her. Did they even belong to a wolf? She couldn't really tell. Facing the stranger again, she pursed her lips and shook her head.

"I don't think so," she replied. She went silent as she wracked her brain for some sort of followup. "Do you live around here?"

She is startled by him, something that he relishes but is confused at. He had done nothing to frighten her other than approach, and yet that was enough to see her body go rigid and her eyes widen. He tips his head, questioning, but says nothing of it as she continues on.

Hm, is all he says at first, looking down at the dessicated corpse. She was silent and so was he until she attempted to break the ice. No, he has no where, really, even though he was promised a place sometime ago. It had burned away like mist in the sun. And I hazard that you are not from here as well?

She hadn't expected an affirmative, so his reply didn't surprise her. Wildfire did expect him to mention some other location, perhaps even an allegiance, but instead he bounced her question back at her. He spoke a little formally, she noted, though he failed to offer a proper introduction.

"I'm from Drageda; we live at the sea cliffs almost due west from here," the she-wolf answered. "My name's Wildfire. Who are you? Where are you from? What brings you here today?" She felt a little bad for firing so many questions at him at once, though they were all politely curious.

The name was not familiar to him. He paid little attention to packs, especially in the past few months. He had been lingering further inland as of late, breaking away from his usual habit of lingering near the shores. He noted their location in his mental map, . He chuckled softly at her flurry of questions, but took no offense from it. My name is Athanasius, and I am a wanderer, He tipped his head to her in greeting. I came here becamse I was curious, His hunger had been sated for a while, and he felt no urge to attack the woman and bathe in her blood. A blessing to her, the fire-swathed girl, but he kept that fact silently locked within him.

He was a wanderer. Wildfire felt a pang of jealousy that caught her off guard. She had always loved traveling and especially enjoyed getting out lately. But this sentiment ran deeper; if only for a split second, she was envious of his lifestyle. She would (and could) never give up her family and home, however, so the Feisripa quickly let that feeling sink back into the depths of her soul.

She should've queried whether he was searching for a place to say, offered him a place in Drageda in exchange for contributions. Although ambassadorship was no longer her primary trade nor her formal duty, they could usually use some new recruits. But Wildfire just didn't feel the urge today. It had nothing to do with him—he appeared able-bodied—she simply couldn't bring herself to infringe on the freedoms she envied on some buried level.

"There used to be a pack here," she shared, playing on his mention of curiosity, "and they were at odds with Drageda. It looks like they've been gone a while, though." She paused, her black tail swishing the air idly. "It wouldn't be the first time a rival pack subsequently vanished."

college is kicking my asss

He wonders how many packs have made their homes on the ground he now walks on. This land is old, and many of the packs he had passed have well established borders. But it made sense for packs and tribes and clans to rise and fall within a year or a moon. He knew, however, that he would live beyond any of them, but he kept that to himself. 

It seems that fortune favors you then, Of course, it was not truly fortune. It was her and her pack's ingenuity, their strength as a group that kept them alive when their rivals failed. He merely complimented her, as was socially acceptable. He turned his face to the corpse once more, gently nudging the body with his forepaw out of sheer boredom. So you've asked me — what brings you so far from your ocean-cliffs? Perhaps she was simply a scout — she had the build for it — or perhaps she needed a moment to get away. But they were far, far inland, and she was near one of her former rivals. If it was a different time, she would have been in danger.

Work has been kicking mine. I figured I'd close up shop here! :)

Wildfire bobbed her head to acknowledge his statement without saying anything further on the subject. He wanted to know what she was doing out this way, which was only fair turnabout.

"I'm a bit of a wanderer too," she explained, then added, "I like to range, and scout information while I'm at it. The commander will be very interested to know that the Larksong Grotto pack is gone, for instance." Her black tail flicked. "Speaking of which, I ought to head back. It was nice meeting you, Athanasius."

She bobbed her smudged snout again, chestnut eyes glancing briefly at her new acquaintance's face before she dropped her gaze and turned. Wildfire offered a polite woof of goodbye, then began trotting back toward her homestead to report her findings to Thuringwethil.

She was a wanderer too. That dichonomy of pack-life and wanderer-life never made sense to him. He understood that the wolf-brain was complex and that hypocrisies existed...but if it was up to him he would chose only one and not the other. Call him single-minded, but he could never be the servant of two masters. But he never pointed this out to her, silently nodding as she turned to leave. Farewell, Wildfire, He lingered there after she left, watching the flame disappear on the horizon. He made a sideways glance at the body, mouth twisting with disappointment — it was not fresh before turning and walking away.