Wapun Meadow The water temple.

Location is closer to the mountains than the meadow, where Arrow Lake empties and becomes Swiftcurrent Creek.

A heavy mist had descended from the mountain range, starting around the late afternoon, and by the time the wolf had crossed in to the depths of the spacious meadow he couldn't make heads or tails of his route. The fog was so thick that he couldn't make out the space around him — his nose said it was cold and light, but his eyes could only see about four feet in any given direction, and the sounds were all absorbed without issue. It was a bright fog; the dimming of the sunlight was made more alien by the cascading tones caught upon the fog, dragging the colors out with gaussian softness; he couldn't tell the time, he couldn't see the stars. It was like being transported to a realm of spirits.

Tulimaq wasn't a spiritual creature and so, rather than being intimidated by superstition, he was mostly annoyed by his lack of progress. He saw the fog as a new adversary. A challenge that could be overcome. So he paced through the meadow, studying the way the fog rolled across the grass or collected like thin web around the tips of the few trees he encountered. Eventually his path took him through the meadow and his paws hit upon a weakened soil, and as he slipped he caught his claws upon smooth stones that held their own spectral chill. It took a moment before Tulimaq realized he had stumbled upon a riverbed; he was lucky to have stepped in to a shallow portion. The water only reached as far as his wrist, and he could easily slide backwards to right himself.

He stood there, on the western-most edge of Swiftcurrent Creek, not realizing his blood's history with the place. The fog seeped across the calmer sections and erased them from view, while the more mobile and agitated water fought back, rolling and twisting and crashing, causing the fog to thin and drift. It was beautiful to some degree, but mostly eerie.

Ever since stumbling on the encounter between Merrit and the stranger wolf, the older Easthollow wolf couldn't shake the uneasiness that clung to his pelt. Like a field mouse, it had made its home within him and refused to leave until he plucked it out. But Greyback simply couldn't grab hold of it and toss it away, no. He had to figure out what they had been talking about, and why the young Easthollow wolf had looked so eager at the strangers words.

And that led him to where he was now- tracking the scent of the loner into the dense fog, at what he assumed was close to the Swiftcurrent Creek given the smell. With a lowered head the large wolf carefully crept through the cloudy haze, his eyes scanning every inch of land that came into his surroundings. Step by step, he followed the thick scent that clung to the wet earth below him before he came upon a dark figure in the distance.

Rising to his full height, he continued to make his way forward until he paws touch the wet banks of the river. He stood like a stone, looking at the male with a stoic expression and a relaxed tail. It was difficult to see the strangers features but it was clear to the Delta that he was a someone capable of attacking.

"Greetings," He announced, his voice deep but flat.

His attention was temporarily lost to the ephemeral quality of his current view, so he did not notice the heavy foot-falls quieted by the fog, nor the shape of the much larger wolf until they had perched themselves along the river's edge and bellowed with their deep voice. The sound came from one of the more obscure sections of the river, where it was calm and where the fog could sit undisturbed. Tulimaq turned his head at the sound, somewhat taken by surprise, but that shock didn't register for long upon his face. He saw the silhouette of a dark shape among the sublimated water and with some study, could make out the face of the stranger, which he approached carefully.

The fact he had not heard the stranger approach was unnerving; but Tulimaq assumed that the fog was the culprit, which was mostly right. Certainly the more he investigated the stranger the more he learned, and it seemed as if this broad mountain of a man was also much older. He likely had some stealth training, or knew to use the fog to his advantage. This wolf was, most assuredly, not a wolf of Tartok. Such bulk was impressive but Tulimaq did not know of any kinfolk that could rival this man. He was imposing whether that was his intention or not; the way he held himself reminded Tulimaq strongly of the various issumatar he had grown up with.

His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, not masking his obvious state of discovery. All he could smell was the light scent of the fog, with the creek's sharpness beneath it. Salutitsinik. Tulimaq drawls, curious if this massive creature would recognize the language or be put-off by it. A test.

Noticing the shock on the strangers face, Greyback bowed his head downwards, his ears falling forward before he stood back up. He was surprised to hear the words that traveled out of the wolf's mouth, unfamiliar with the language. He had never heard such a dialect before, but given the circumstance he was positive it was a greeting. He whispered it to himself softly, attempting to break down the vowels that rolled off his tongue as his gaze cast downwards.

"I apologize for startling you," He walked forward off the bank, his paws submerging in the murky water that gave way to ripples against the surface. He did not want to give the wrong impression, he was only here for answers. "I came to ask you some questions." His words traveled outwards in the form of white wisps of breath.

He continued to stay silent until the stranger replied, wondering if he would stay or leave Greyback to his own thoughts.

He had not been in the valley that long so it was surprising to hear the stranger's inquiry, mentioning questions—questions, about what, he wondered? The massive wolf drifted in to the river, becoming an obstacle for the water. Tulimaq watched as the fog rolled from him; he sincerely thought that this could be some kind of manifestation for about thirty seconds, before sense kicked in. He might've been large and in charge, but that didn't make him a god as far as Tulimaq knew. Tartok did not adhere to any doctrine aside from the typical survival of the fittest mentality. No, not a god. Just a giant that he didn't want to screw with, even with his belief that challenges were good for one's soul.

Questions about what? Tulimaq inquires, his tone level and words only slightly affected by an accent. It is clear by the way the stranger reacted to his previous greeting that he was not a northern beast, so he resorted to using the dialect of the wilds. Tulimaq is wary; he makes sure that the stranger knows this with the stiff manner of his strides, but he holds no fear either—he watches the stranger with as much fire in his gaze as he might hold facing a bear, or any such opponent. He is a warrior after all.

Eyeing the man with a curious gaze, Greyback takes a step to the side, his body relaxed but the fur among his spine raising despite him willing it to stay flat.

As Tulimaq inquires Greyback realizes he has yet to introduce himself. "Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself- I'm Greyback of Easthollow. I saw you earlier with one of our young, Merrit." He bows his head slightly, unwilling to give a full bow and expose himself to the male. He still does not trust this stranger in the fog. "What were you doing at our territory, and what were you and Merrit talking about?" His voice drops to a cold tone, his eyes squinting in the fog, aware of the rigid stance of the other. He has to know, he has to protect Easthollow. He has to protect Valette's young.

The beast moves. The water shifts—hell, Tulimaq wouldn't be surprised if the entire river altered course to compensate—but he didn't move an inch. They're watching one another for a few minutes before the silence is broken again, and with it comes some understanding. Tulimaq should've seen this coming. It doesn't surprise him too much that someone had been there, watching the boy, keeping tabs. The boy might've said there were no warriors among their ranks but if this man's word was true, even at his age he would be a formidable deterrent to rogues. A warrior in a past life, perhaps. This makes Tulimaq wonder about his efficacy—his skills, his strengths—but he doesn't let himself grow distracted.

He has questions, but first he must answer some. Or not—Tulimaq thinks quickly about how to handle this; he could strike two birds with one (large) stone by playing hard to get.

I did not get his name. Merrit? Hm. As Tulimaq closes his mouth, he drags his tongue across his lips, thoughtful for a moment. He'd remember that name for future use since the boy hadn't given it to him earlier.

Are you his father? Tulimaq countered. I suppose you don't trust him—else you would be asking him rather than trailing me across the wilds. A small jab. Tulimaq is more vocal than other Tartok wolves but he is no sneak, and certainly not a wordsmith. If he wants to test the strength of this behemoth he will need more firepower to bring forth his ire.

He snaps next, I asked him some questions. Then, I left.

He watches as the man answers, closes his mouth, and then licks at his lips. The sight puts the Easthollow wolf off, but he continues to stand tall with rigid posture. He perks his ears forward and continues to squint; his breath still swimming in the bitter wind.

He is not surprised when Tulimaq asks about their relationship. He is no father to the boy, no. Merely a guardian, a pack mate. Greyback doesn't need to be related in order to be concerned about the safety of him. "No," he breathes, "He is not my son," His voice is almost solemn, disappointed by the fact that he does not have one.

The jab thrown twists itself in Greyback's gut. "He is not even a year, a pup. I don't expect him to know right from wrong, he will learn. However- I do expect that from an adult." He attempts to jab back at the man and lowers his head forward to stare more intensely.

He knew Merrit wished to meet with this stranger again, and although Greyback did not want him To, he knew it would only upset the boy further. "You are not to go near him unless someone is with him." The Easthollow wolf's voice is lower now, deep and icy.

The giant seems disgruntled; had he been a more passive creature, perhaps that would have been enough to satiate his curiosity. Tulimaq wanted to know just how skilled this man was. He seemed so precise with his words. Thoughtful. Slow. But the strength within him was unmistakable and the explorer knew he had to see this through.

When the older wolf admits that they are not related, it doesn't surprise Tulimaq very much. The boy — Merrit, he had called him — did not have the same body-type, and truthfully did not look like a relative of this gargantuan thing. Tulimaq saw promise in the boy but it was, still, somewhat limited. I don't expect him to know right from wrong — I do from an adult, He carefully states, and Tulimaq nods.

I agree. And he thinks about that for a moment. The prospect of training the boy remains interesting to the Tartok wolf, and he remembers adding the requirement of permission. He does not find himself at fault, and dislikes the tone of warning within the words. You are not to go near him unless someone is with him.

Tulimaq can't help but sneer at this. He chuffs a small sound, holding in true laughter. You were there. I did not harm the boy — and he was not alone, which was the truth and the mountain knew it, he had been watching them. He has gone to ask his mother for permission to visit with me. I believe that settles things. This man was no father to the boy, and if the mother approves, what then?

The wolf turns away, growing bored — or seemingly distracted by something of greater importance off within the white-noise of the fog; then he murmurs, I mean only to teach him.

Greyback is glad that Tulimaq agrees with him, and is under the impression that perhaps the coldness is not needed between the two, however that changes when the man chuffs. Raising his brow at the sound, greyback looks at the man with a scrutinizing gaze. He was laughing? What did he say that was so funny?

He had to agree with the man, Tulimaq did nothing to Merrit and he was not alone, Greyback had been watching. However, he wasn't completely sure that Valette had heard about the situation from her own son. Something about Merrit was off to the man, and he was sure given the age he was at that the boy perhaps hadn't told the complete truth. He didn't want to believe his own pack mate was like that but yearlings tended to be temperamental.

"And what do you mean to teach him?" Greyback asked, curious of what that exactly meant. "He told me you were an explorer. Do you wish to teach him to be a scout?" Greyback paused, his lip pointing out in thought. "Or perhaps to fight?"

Tulimaq was not going to entertain this man for much longer, having grown impatient with the interrogation — that's what this was, no matter how pleasant the mountain was behaving, nor how passive the two of them were. It seemed that Tulimaq wouldn't get enough rise out of the level-headed wolf this way. He wasn't adverse to starting a fight with more physical tactics, but he wasn't going to put his access to Merrit on the line either; it appears they are at a stalemate.

So, he answers the question.

I could teach him many things. Mostly I thought he would be a good warrior, given time and effort. A few lessons wouldn't hurt. Tulimaq had no intention of harming the boy or causing his family trouble (at the moment). When I called myself a warrior, he had no idea what that was. I mourn for him — and I wonder where his father is. A healthy boy must learn these things somewhere. The sharp look in his eyes was still directed at Greyback, wondering if he had anything to say on the matter, but before he could say anything Tulimaq added:

Rather than trying to keep me from him, you should be praising my efforts. Someone has to be a father to the boy. Be thankful I am merely teaching him what it is to be a man — when I am done, I will leave. And maybe, if the boy has matured enough, take Merrit along with him.

Im so sorry for the late reply, I had to take a break from WOLF to figure some things out. I think this is a great place to leave off since Tulimaq is now in EH- Though feel free to post after this!

The thought of making Merrit a warrior sent shivers down the elders spine. A warrior? No- The boy was so taken by knowledge from what he had heard and seen he could barely picture the raven male as some sort of mercenary. What would his mother, Valette think? Greyback sighed and shook his head.

"We are a peaceful pack, we have no needs for warriors." He spoke, his gaze still burning on the other. The absence of Merrit's father was a problem, however Greyback doubted that one needed a father to be healthy. Merrit was strong, he could get through the loss when others were there to help him. Others within the pack.

The hint that Tulimaq wanted to be a father to the boy made something within Grayback turn hot, forcing him to harden his glare downwards and raise his tail. He would not let this stranger place himself within Valette's family. "You will never be a father to him," He barked back, his voice curt. "And you will be able to see him, but never alone."

Turning around, Greyback moved forward into the fog, letting the white trails of it paint over his body and wrap him in as he disappeared.