Wapun Meadow redemption has freed the burden from me

set present day - AW. tags for visibility.

it was certain: the bizarre wolf that had the chutzpah to threaten her sister was gone. indra had only traced her stale scent past the borders before she turned back victoriously, a somewhat unusual swagger to her steps as she thought about informing @Laurel of the news. childishly she flung herself on the boulder the mute wolf often habituated, urine splattering from her crouched form as she thought of spiteful ways to announce this was their pack and she was no longer welcome.

indra found herself entertaining wild thoughts about the nature of the wolf's departure. maybe a bighorn sheep had gored her, and she was dying some chilly and lonesome death on the fringes of a distant mountain. maybe she had smartened up and realized that the redleaf girls were better -- maybe she had fled in order to hide her shame that her insubordination had negative consequences.

indra dearly hoped it was the last, but curiosity compelled her to turn back from the borders again and stride into wapun territory. she nosed along the ground half-heartedly, idly wondering if she'd encounter @Skwol in the hinterlands. she didn't have any set plans presently, other than glowering about her assumption that the insolent female had been permanently driven from the territory.

mahler hadn't paid attention to the land he'd entered — he had been rather caught up in the springtime twittering of robins. and while snow still blanketed the land, while the gusts were harsh and cold, the musiker knew that warmer climes were not far off. still, his sigh was audible as he heard the crunch of packed white beneath his broad toes.
wolves, their scents crowded together and thick as summertime wildflowers. and just as cloying, mahler added to himself in a tongue no one bothered to speak aloud anymore, least of all him. the cold lavender of his eyes sought movement in a small frame; a firebrand of a yearling nosing along the frozen earth. boredom dragged at the man; he paused in his aimless pursuit of spring harbingers to watch the stranger, ears slowly cupping forward with a derisive sort of curiosity.

as indra picked along the bare bushes and frozen turf, she felt as if she were being watched. at first it was a strange sensation, a prickling along her neck -- and then it became a fullblown coldness, anchored deep in a sensation of being clinically studied. she wrenched her muzzle from the snow and cast about her, her amber gaze settling on a wolf not far off.

a stranger. instinctively she thought to raise her tail and no response came from the nub on her haunch - instead she fixed him with a baleful look, finding no welcome in his expression. she did not like how he watched her, nor did she care for the coldness of his muted purple gaze. with a huff she placed her front foot on the ground and straightened out her posture, leveling him with a look she imagined laurel would dole out to a stranger caught peeping.

it was a hard pair of dark golden eyes that were lifted to regard mahler — he gazed back implacably, letting his gaze draw deliberately away to stare in pointed scorn at her plumeless rump. how did she survive in a world of raised flags and teeth? therefore mahler gave her no mind as bored strides trekked him nearer, until now he stood some feet away, glowering with some iced-over expression on his countenance?
mahler presently glanced around them, his gaze a roving study. surely the wolves of these lands named their places; surely this was one such place. the girl was leveled with another stare, one that disregarded the natural way of direct eye contact. "this place," the musiker murmured, in tones muted. perhaps she would take his meaning: a name.

when his gaze unmistakably drew to her haunches she felt herself involuntarily stiffen; her thin chest lurched forward and her lips pinched in a thin line of perceived slight. it was as if he had looked to it pointedly to mock her -- it had only been several months, but no wolf she had encountered had looked to her haunches with anything but pity.

she felt a stifled rage stir and her gaze turned flinty. she was about to leave his company when he spoke, his tongue thick with accent she did not recognize. part of her wanted to leave him there without a name - why should she oblige when he had silently invalidated her? her fur still stood on end from that, and she looked around him blankly as if she didn't know.

it was as if laurel was coaching her then, for her muzzle lifted in a smug smile. she knew the answer, but he was not getting it that easily. with an insolent roll of her shoulders she turned and started to walk away - one ear fixed fastidiously behind her in case he chose to follow.

she was the first wolf mahler had met in these new lands, and within a few moments he had turned her away, her steps taut with a grave annoyance. perhaps it was a skill of his, to be so acerbic in manner that he would gather no bedfellows. and in his pride he went to present his spine to her, and continue on.
but the old bitch logic engaged; mahler knew he would get nowhere if he could not curb his tongue, or the manner in which he regarded all living things, save for himself. and thus the man stifled a weathered sigh, and called softly, "apologies, miss."
if her ruddy ears would but hear, she would see how rusted the edges of his words were with disuse and perhaps surprise that the first thing he had said in so long was intended to make amends. quietly, mahler waited, finding calm in the stillness.

it was only a few steps before the male called out behind her; indra turned a ruddy ear, and slowly, her entire muzzle. his peal was cracked; dry -- rusted the way red flakes snarled across an unused cast-iron tool. she halted and pivoted her shoulders towards him, her expression still weathered by hurt.

he had at least apologized, which was the only reason she had not kept walking. begrudgingly she offered what he sought: "wapun meadow." she said nothing else, favoring silence as her gaze openly fell on his own striking features. there was no challenge in her eyes, but there was a sense of cold autonomy -- as if she were confident enough he would not turn upon him, but not confident enough to pull her gaze from him.

a well-wielded apology was a wise tool; mahler was allowed now to see how his words paused the girl and granted him a title. the girl too, turned slowly, her eyes stony with cold. he supposed he deserved that, as any creature would deserve to be chastised for their rudeness, and gave a low grunt of placation in his throat.
wapun meadow. mahler put aside the name for later use and swept his broad stippled ears forward. he wanted to keep her here; the grace with which the child moved, despite her lack of a tail, was endearing to the man who above all else treasured the quiet secrets of natural music. "mahler," came his offer; a name for a name.

so much of indra's life would have gone differently with the simple issue of an apology: the infidelity of her parents, reek's abandonment, saena's departure, warbone's sudden disappearance -- that mute wolf's challenge, ithrik's ravaging of her haunch. her jaw tightened as she studied the bold stippling of his dark features. the high blaze of white across his forehead.

she looked displeased, but she did not yet quit his company. he offered a name that she took quietly, repeating it carefully to herself. a strange name to her, but easy to remember -- and he was easy to identify.

"indra."

the debt repaid brought another title; indra, the girl with hard bronze eyes and a bare set of haunches. mahler did not smile, nor repeat her name back; the pithiness of their meeting was a pleasure to him. the set of her ruddy little jaw did not go unnoticed; in response, mahler's auds flattened momentarily. dance; the musiker found the music of the primal cadence and clung to it.
presently, he sauntered past her frigid stare and lowered his muzzle to the snow, breathing in the varigated scents there. but it was a mere twist of drama; now it was mahler's turn to gaze expectantly back toward indra, the hyacinth glint of his silent eyes the only tell of his curiosity about how she would react to him now.

the girl watched him stonily, tracing his steps as he lowered his thin muzzle and chuffed in the frost-rimed snow. indra's ears cupped back in an unassured manner; she found the curtness of their exchange non-alarming, but his new actions stirred a sense of mistrust in her that had been quelled only moments before.

perhaps indra was the most boring conversant or companion ever, because she didn't say anything at all. instead she just dully stared at him like a stupid girl, watching him wordlessly as he sailed past. if he wanted to be weird, she wouldn't rain on his weird-ass parade -- but she would not be involved in it either.

LOL <3

mahler had spent so little time in the company of his own kind that he found himself reflective of the girl's sudden tensing, turning his eyes upon her with his own sort of wary curiosity. what had happened to make her so very flighty? to a creature more seasoned in what he should know, the dance of wolfkind, the reactions of the little chestnut might have been properly read.
as it was, the dappled musiker found himself quite at a loss beneath her hard stare and tilted ears. a proud creature, mahler did not want to set himself to deciphering her response to him; his lilac expression dropped all the same, showing plainly a glimpse of the consternation that had flared like some insidious disease.

sry u get this circus ROFL

her stares went unanswered, and this made the girl put up her mores and withdraw further. she had never been chatty - not once in her life - and experience had been cruel to her. enough that she was no longer warm, or friendly, or even interested in the motives of other wolves unless they were designated to hurt her.

he looked confused but it didn't evince any amount of pity in the girl. he was older than her, and likely from a walk of life that made him at least somewhat educated to how intemperate and unkind life could be -- indra scoffed and rolled her eyes at his splayed ears and made to move.

if the conversation ended there, it ended there -- and indra was not sad for it. he might have been proud, but she was ostensible. instead of inquiring to what he was doing she would rather leave - and she walked off with a purpose that suggested unless he called to her, she would not turn around.