The Tangle lips are raw with this truth you have known all your life

Pipin’s gait is easy, carefree even as a critical eye that does not match his jubilant disposition takes note of the unpleasant territory he has unwittingly entered the Teekon Wilds upon; until he lets out a strangled noise of surprise as the ground violently slopes downwards and with a step gravity yanks him down without mercy. “Oof!” His breath expels from his body harshly, as if someone has sucker kicked him in the gut as he tumbles into the spiny shrubbery. A few seconds pass as he makes sure that nothing is overly injured or worse yet broken and lets out a low “Owww.” in a stifled groan. He imagines his unnoticed entrance into new and foreign lands to be …a lot cooler. The reality is nothing like the expectation, of course. He rights himself and stands, carefully testing each leg — no doubt looking quite comically as he lifts one at a time and stretches it out and away from his body kind of like an a weird flamingo or something. There are a few shallows scrapes: he feels them sting and smart and some of them, as he pulls at them to ensure he has not broken anything in his epic tumble have begun to split in earnest and seep blood. He can treat them, he knows, once he gets out of this territory.

Now that the territory known as The Tangle { this knowledge is not something he has, however } has his undivided attention Pipinoukhe draws in a breath after he’s standing once more upon all for legs, cringing away from the warped, bone white witch-like tree he realizes he is face to face with. “Okay,” He speaks aloud to break the eerie silence of the territory. “Right. Need to get out of here.” Needless to say, though this place would make for an excellent, creepy graveyard he doesn’t want it to be his final resting place. Despite his deduction he doesn’t move. Rather, he stands visibly hesitating on which direction he should go. In theory, any direction will lead him out of this territory but if he’s not careful he could end up going in circles and never break free of this place and it’s that consideration that roots him in place, needing to be sure that he’s going to head a way that will see him to the exit.

Talion was sure that leaving the Strand was what dying felt like. Although he'd been shunned by his mother and siblings since before he could remember, being forced to flee his home had been the most difficult experience he'd ever faced; it was all he'd ever known. For weeks he lingered pitifully on the outskirts hoping the new Siren Queen would change her mind, hoping that his father might fight for him. He undoubtebly tested the limits in doing so, by remaining no matter how often the she-wolves ran him from the edges of the territory. Again and again, he return to roving the nearby woodland where he'd previously hunted for the Nereides, howling mournfully in the night and wishing they'd believe that was not and never was a threat.

It was Sao herself, with thinned patience and a peaked temper, who put her outcast son in his place. She violently chased him from her home, and refused to abandon her pursuit until she made it perfectly clear to Talion that he was not welcome. The wound his mother inflicted above his shoulder no longer bothered him physically, but would continue to trouble him in other ways: a mark of the damned, a reminder that he was the boy who was despised purely for being born the wrong sex.

He adapted and survived, however, despite the odds. Talion had still been learning how to track, hunt and defend himself when he'd been ousted, yet somehow managed to live and travel alone. The summer months had been kind to him but now, with autumn chill in the air, he knew he needed the support of a pack to make it through the fast approaching cold season.

Staying close to the coast, the sterling adolescent happened across another coastal pack. He gave them a wide berth, uncertain still if they were another branch of Nereidoes or if he even wanted to live directly by the shore, and continued South to avoid their territory.

The Tangle is eerily quiet, and Talion quickened his pace with the sudden, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. It was there, by a pale and warped old tree, that his frosty gaze falls upon another yearling. The youth halts to consider his options, wondering if it might be in his own best interest to reach out to this other lone male or if he'd be better off slipping away before being noticed. Opting to go with option one, Talion chuffs in attempt to draw the stranger's attention, and remained in place to gauge his reaction.   

Pipin studies the paths before him, still deliberating on which path he wants to take whilst calculating the probability of going in one giant circle and winding up in the exact same clearing again. The conclusion of said calculation ends in almost certainty and he frowns suddenly, his shoulders drooping as his ears lower to lay nearly touching the curve of his skull. Before he can slip into a pensive, depressive state as he considers how long he can survive being lost in this ghastly territory his rumination is broken by a chuff; and currently it’s the most fantastic noise that Pipin swears he’s ever heard in his life. His ears perk atop his skull and his shoulders rise at the prospect of company and relief that maybe he will make it out of this creepy witchy-eat-your-pups-for-supper territory after all! Despite the protest in his muscles, and the smart of his shallow scrapes from his earlier fall he turns to face the stranger with renewed vitality in his movements: becoming animated once more.

“Oh! Yes, hello!” Pipin greets the male with his usual friendliness, his tail wagging amicably against his hocks as his pale, Champagne golden gaze takes in the stranger, ghosting forward a few steps though mindful to keep ample distance between them just in case. “Are you from around here?” Pipin inquires hopefully.

The sterling Roux-Abrhen observed this stranger quietly with frosty periwinkle eyes, surprised to see a sudden burst of energy as he moved to acknowledge him. He greeted Talion with enthusiasm, his tail swinging cheerfully at his rear and what he thought sounded like relief in the tone of his voice. This reaction, though unexpected, allowed his own tension as well as the uncertainty that his presence might not be appreciated, melt away. Curiosity gripped the platinum-furred yearling then, as he briefly swept his gaze over the cheerful male and noticed the ruffling of his fur; was he in trouble?

Eager not to appear cold, Talion offered a content wave of his own feathery tail and paused in his tracks, allowing his ashen companion to close the distance between them. "I'm afraid not," the boy answered apologetically, obsidian ears canting backward slightly. "Just passing through. Are you looking for something?"

The answer that Pipin is given isn’t, admittedly, the answer he’d been hoping for but in lieu of it all he’s not overly disappointed — even though there is a soft ”Oh,” that escapes his lips. There was at least a fifty, fifty chance of the stranger’s answer going either way; a fact that Pipin had not been ignorant to. “Ah, well,” Pipin draws in a deep breath and offers a sheepish grin to his companion. “I’m looking for the exit, actually.” He’s become trapped in The Tangle’s maze-like …tangle, predictably. It’s very like him { this is surely what he gets for never paying attention during those scouting lessons with his father }. “I’ve got the feeling that it would be easy to just go around in circles and not even realize it.” Pipin explains, subtly informing the stranger that he’s lost whilst trying to spare himself the full-on humiliation of coming right out and saying it. “I’m Pipinoukhe, by the way. Pipin for short. Pipinoukhe’s a bit of a mouthful and no one calls me that anyway besides, of course, my parents.” He offers as an introduction. When he realizes that he's been rambling a little bit, he offers a slight grimace and his ears flutter back to half mast in a partially sheepish, partially apologetic manner.

"Oh," the other male breathed, and Talion let his raven ears tilt back further as he acknowledged his companion's disappointment. He concluded then that the stranger might be lost and in search of the right direction to escape this eerie territory as swiftly as possible. The young Roux-Abrhen smiled inwardly when his suspicion was confirmed: "how about we find a way out together?"

​Talion hadn't really considered that he himself might have wound up lost. Having wandered for so long that he'd grown accustomed to winding up someplace he'd never been, the raven-cloaked ranger somehow always managed to find his way. "My name is Talion," he offered when the other shared his own, turning to move away in the direction he'd originally been heading and attempting to engage him in conversation to keep the mood light as they travelled.

When they escaped the Tangle, Talion could not deny his disappointment. He found that he rather enjoyed the company, but they each faced different paths. Bidding his companion a fond farewell, the young Roux-Abrhen continued on his way.