Wapun Meadow Apricot Wishes

"You could be a king, if you wanted to..." The Queen of the Forest had said to Birk. It was a warm late summer afternoon, the sun was slowly making it's way to the horizont and he was lying side by side with a regal she-wolf, whose coat was cloaked in various shades of grey, black and white, while her eyes were in the color of silver. She was taller than an average wolf. Not beautiful in the common sense, however, when Birk had met her, he had lost himself entirely for her. They had spent the rest of the summer and the golden months of autumn together - wandering, exploring and hunting. The Queen, who was a lot older than Birk taught him great many things. 

Not a thing for me. He had replied to which she had asked, how long did he plan to roam around without a set purpose in his life? How many more years he was going to waste? He could not answer her at that time, nor did he knew the clear answer to it now, as he stood in a snow covered clearing next to a tall mountain range. The Queen had disappeared without a trace few weeks earlier and, though he had known that is search would be fruitless (one of the people, who - if they do not want to be found - cannot be found), he put an effort. Until winter caught up with him and he realized that it was a high time he sought a shelter for the cold months. 

And here he was again - in the wilderness that had hosted him last year. Perhaps... perhaps this year would be different. Maybe the path of a king was worth to give a try as long as it was entertaining and kept him busy. Birk smiled to himself and began walking South, where he caught the scent of a settlement nearby.

like birk, the attalus had caught wind of the nearby pack -- it rankled his nerves and he steered clear of it. he did not wish to draw attention to himself or his brother garait, who presently was still healing. venextos himself sported wounds still, though his limp had mostly dissipated and the cuts on his muzzle had closed.

as he stalked through the valley he spotted another wolf barely perceptible between the snow and the sky. curious but not outwardly friendly, he stopped along the ridge he was traveling and regarded the stranger. it was not skwol, the large wolf he had encountered in the vale -- yet like every wolf he had met so far, it sported a pale pelage not unlike his own.

while he did not trot down to the wolf to greet him, he stopped -- the wind would make his presence known shortly enough.

Birk's way through the meadow was surprisingly easy - there was snow, but the winds that were allowed to play around freely had heaped and pushed the powderpuff snow in every direction and to her lighting. Therefore areas of solid ground, where the grass and dirt was visible, mixed with places, where the heaps were chest high and difficult to manouver through. But he wasn't a tough Northerner for nothing - he progressed with relative ease and did not complain. He had seen worse.

A gust of wind brought a smell of another wolf and Birk - though not particularly interested in the stranger - stopped to scan the area and see, who it was and how far it was. It was almost impossible to do - the stranger wore the same color coat as Birk himself did and had not the other moved just a bit, the man would have missed him entirely. Now - however - his gaze was locked at the other wolf, waiting for it's next move and whether they were going to meet or pass each other without paying much attention.

venextos tested the air with a slim muzzle. the wind sang of cold and the scent of the wolf seemed unaccompanied. it was that singular impression that compelled venextos to trot down from his perch towards the similarly-furred male.

his gait slowed as he drew within comfortable distance. he had no wish to spook the individual, all the same he studied him quite plainly. venextos had nothing to hide and it showed in the open swing of his gait. if he could get close enough, he would extend the silent greeting of their brethen by drinking in the wolf's scent by his muzzle. if he could not get close at all, he'd likely turn away and continue his lonesome trek.

"Your face is a sight for a sore eyes," Birk remarked calmly, when the stranger had approached close enough to be properly examined. The man's muzzle was criscrossed by scars and though the one, who claimed to be a descent from Ice giants, did not hold high in regard those, who fought often, he still respected them. Therefore the previous comment and the next was sort of a polite way of teasing the other.

"And I see that cold has also feasted on your ears," he noticed that they shared not only the coat color, but the frostbitten ears as well. Last winter had chopped off bits and pieces of Birk's ears and it had taken a very long time for them to properly heal. "So I deduce that we might come from similar upbringings. Familiar with the Ice fields?" he asked out of common courtesy, not that he fancied meeting any of his former packmates or family members.

he breathed deep of the ice wolf's rich fur, his gaze locking on the wolf's muzzle as he stepped back and put appreciable distance between them. since his arrival in the wilds, he had only spoken once -- it was strange to hear conversation again.

there was still a great sorrow that clutched his heart and sullied his thoughts, but the prospect of conversation seemed to for a moment chase those demons from their shadowed haunts. he flicked his gaze to birk's ears, acknowledging his comment with a brief cant of his muzzle.

he was not familiar with the ice fields, and shook his head slowly. "no," he studied the stranger a moment longer. "but i know cold." as did birk, it appeared.

The fellow claimed that he knew, what cold was, and the fact that he had survived the very harsh conditions was definitely another check mark in the mental list of the things that made this guy worth respecting. If he had survived, that also meant that he knew very well, what hunger meant, and how to deal with it. He did not really want to know, but for a moment he was tempted to ask, how often he had had to fend other hungry wolves off, from becoming their dinner. Or vice versa - had he ever been forced to eat the meat of the fellow kin, when there was absolutely nothing else to quench the hunger with. 

"So I see," Birk replied and yawned - not because he was bored (well, slightly), but because that one, simple action gave him the opportunity to think of another question. "I presume that you left the wonderful North for an easier life here?"

it was good fortune birk did not field that question, for it was likely he would not enjoy the answer. venextos knew what killed hunger - and the form it came in was irrelevant to him.

the male yawned and venextos flickered an incomprehensible expression his way. he was aware he was not thrilling company, but he was not compelled to change that. talking got one into trouble. idleness moreso. god, he would suck at a college party.

"yes." he answered, unwilling to delve further. he was not here by choice and would give anything -- even his own life -- to have the pieces of his ruin undone. to somehow see the fractured lives of his past reunited. he would not find solace here -- nor would birk find chatty company. he considered it would behoove him to at least ask: "what packs are here?"

"So did I, though it puzzles me now and then, who are the fools," Birk replied in idle manner, as if talking more to himself than to the man. "The ones that keep on fighting or the ones, who seek the easy way out," it was clear from his words, what were his thoughts on the matter. Though he admired that tough people and the survivalists, he thought it was foolish to stick to one kind of lifestyle, when there was an easier at hand. 

"Hmm... there is one that I intend to join," Birk beckoned towards the distant forest and the stone formation that can be seen from afar. He had caught scents of a pack, but had not yet gone closer to investigate more. "And - if I remember correctly - then on the other side of the mountains there are quite a few packs as well. Won't name them all, so not to spoil the fun of finding out about them yourself."

venextos understood the sentiment, but did not see the world in such black and white. he knew what tethered some to the inhospitable landscape: family.

it had been at once his zenith, and his undoing.

he looked to the forest the male becked towards, and then followed his gaze to the ridge-like formation beyond. far and distant peaks. without names or witness, they were as mysterious to venextos as the rest of the valley. "that is fair." he issued civilly, though he did not press further. the packs did not hold his interest out of necessity, but rather, venextos wished to know what or who he and his brother would be up against. if they were to set up small claims at the foothold of a mountain, it did well for them to know their neighbors.

he moved off stiffly, a wave of his tail given as he motioned he was to depart shortly. "slán abhaile." the man uttered quietly, giving birk one last soft gaze before turning back to his travels.

Good luck and may I never see you again. Birk thought in response, watching the white fellow walk out of his life just as swiftly as it had come in. He wondered, what the other had said to him and was pretty sure that it was not the common tongue he had been taught and was used to, when young. But after a while - he forgot all about it, because there were more important matters at hand. He headed towards the pack that he would soon find out - ran by name of Easthollow.