Blackfeather Woods but there's chaos brewing underneath my skin

looking for a guardian thread! it's on the borders so this is welcome to anyone!

the snow crunches under his weight as he moves along the borders, pausing to brush the accumulated snow — wet and thus heavier than light snow — off of the skulls and skeletons that decorate their borders. it's a menial task really, but, patrols were important and there hasn't been a moment following the escape of the redhawk women and the trespass of the redhawks that had came to look for her that wintersbane hadn't been on edge. he feels like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap or release at any given moment. there is too much that he does not want to lose because of a mistake; a mistake that, unfortunately, affects more than just the one responsible.

he swipes at a skull with more vigor than he means to and it topples over. he lets out a small huff, a noise than veils the extent of his worry and his frustration. it seethes beneath the surface of his skin like a miasma of lava ready to burst fort in a violent eruption; when it does let loose ...it will be ugly. he fixes the skull, nudging it back into place with his snout. wintersbane draws his tongue across his lips, a quick and furious swipe. he gives his pelage a hefty shake, ridding it of snow that has accumulated on his back and presses on, vigilant and stalwart as he rolls his shoulders and attempts to focus on the task at hand as opposed to his repressed feelings. he has done well to keep them in check, reminding himself over and over like a broken record that it is out of his paws and it is not his place.

he thinks he's doing okay, so far.

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289 words

So much had taken place within the Blacktail Deer Plateau borders within the last moon that Ruenna felt as if the territory was crushing her, confining her and smothering her instead of keeping her safe, as it had done so far up until this point. She hadn't meant to travel so far from the packlands; truly, she shouldn't have journeyed out at all. Her pack needed their Beta close, and so of course all Rue felt like doing was running. 

The great lake came into view, sprawled out in the snow and so, so still... like a fallen warrior. It was a warrior Ruenna had known, back in the summer when she had first arrived in these lands. Then, she had traveled around the northern end of the lake, and so now she chose to round the lake from the south. As he did so, the young woman's gaze was attracted to a dark smudge against the pristine landscape-- a forest, it seemed. She trotted for the trees, thinking the woods might provide momentary respite from the harsh winds that tore across the plains and meadows. 

As she approached the trees, she thought she scented a pack's territory markers, but with the strength of the winds it was difficult to tell for certain. Rue stopped and delivered a several low chuffs, hoping to signal friendly curiosity to whomever might be watching-- pack wolf or otherwise. No doubt there were unseen eyes in the forest, scanning the pristine white hills for the likes of her. 

Rue has stopped well outside the territory. Also note to self, if anything crazy happens this will need to be take place in present day in Rue's timeline.
@Wintersbane

thank you for joining!

the tundrian focuses on his patrol, shuffling thoughts into some repressed corner of his mind. there doesn't need to be thoughts and when he's focusing on them his attention is drifting from the task at hand: marking and watching for loiterers. he doesn't expect to find a loiterer, admittedly, and yet the series of small chuffs drift his way he stops. her scent wafts towards him: the scent that the wolfdog, elixir had carried upon her pelt. though his muscles pull taunt beneath his blue-black pelage, thick and coarse to weather the winter months wintersbane is drawn by curiosity more than he is hostility. thus far, anyway.

she remains far enough away from their borders that he does not feel the need to be overbearingly territorial. she is a long way from home, he thinks, and wonders what draws her here. loiterers were far and few in-between, for the most part. the grim scene of their borders: rotting corpses, skeletal remains and blood was enough to cause the most hardened to rethink lingering. glacial gaze studies her in the distance that hangs between them. what brings you here, tuntematon? he demands of her in a quiet rumble, like a thunderstorm upon the horizon, the tundrian word slipping from his tongue with ease. he does not use it as much as he wishes he would. it is a language he knows in his bones; it feels like home and connects him to his ancestors of the icy fjords in enok.

glacial gaze is expectant as it lingers upon her.

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258 words

More than happy to join! I've been wanting to get Rue over here to check up on @Shisu for a while now.

Rue was too far from the edge of the woods to see the carnage that marked the Blackfeather border, but a shift in the winds did bring a rotten stench to her nose. She sneezed, and when she looked back up a raven-colored man was standing in the shadows. Rue nodded to the man, and as she studied him another gust of wind immersed her in the scent of death. The Redfern girl shuddered. 

"Please excuse me-- I called only to announce my presence. I didn't want my intentions mistaken. I thought to shelter in these woods when I saw them from afar, but I now see that they are occupied." 

There was something familiar about the pack's smell. It drew a memory out of the back of Rue's mind... it was a memory so distant and insignificant, it had almost been lost. Rue had come upon an ivory-pelted man with this pack's scent when she first arrived in these lands. The alabaster male had been speaking to a woman cloaked in silvers-- a very timid, naive sounding woman-- and he had conviced the woman to come back with him to his pack. Watching the silver girl get "recruited" by the smooth-talking male had given Rue an inexplicable nervous feeling in her stomach. She couldn't help but feel as if she had witnessed a man taking advantage of a helpless female, and she had done absolutely nothing to stop it. 

Should Rue attempt to find out what had happened all those moons ago? Was the woman safe and happy in these woods? Something about the ominous scent emanating from the trees hinted otherwise, and that was also the reason Rue was reluctant to move closer. She hesitated, unsure of whether to draw out the conversation for answers or to run away as swiftly as her tired paws would carry her.

the woman responds to his question, her words polite. it's hard for him to believe that anyone didn't realize the dark woods were claimed — though perhaps their infamy isn't as well spread as he'd like to believe ( although oft he wars with himself on whether that is a good thing or a bad thing ). even so, he gets the feeling that blackfeather is one of the older — if not the oldest — packs in these wilds though he does not know it's full history. while wintersbane acknowledges that history is important his focus tends to stray to both present and future. the past is the past for a reason, after all.

wintersbane studies her with a slight lift of his chin, his curiosity clinical. her explanation is satisfactory and she is far enough away from the borders that the tundrian — though extremely territorial all the same — does not feel the need to be excessive or chase her off. so why does she linger? the question presents itself silently to wintersbane and he worries it for a few moments like a dog worrying a bone. is there something else you need? her lingering suggests to wintersbane that she's curious and he is not a fan of anyone loitering around their woods ...regardless of if there is plenty of respectful distance between body and borders.

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229 words

Rue was certainly curious about the silver woman, and more than a little worried for her fate, but she could not think of a way to inquire after her that wouldn't come off as accusatory, not to mention impertinent and just plain nosy.  An insistent gust of wind ripped across the plains, demanding that Rue hurry up and make a decision, one way or the other. Either get to asking or get to moving on, Rue. 

"Yes. Just the name of your pack. And yours, if you don't mind." It was a far less intrusive question than the one she truly wished to ask, but one for which she was perhaps a bit more likely to receive an actual answer. "I'm Ruenna Redfern, Beta of Blacktail Deer Plateau," she added, knowing better than to request such information while holding back her own.

wintersbane draws in a breath and lets it out in a slow exhale, breath unfurling from his lips in a writhing plume of white steam that warms his black, leathery nose mere seconds before it dissipates. he would argue that she truly doesn't need that information and he weighs the value of it. should he lie? ah, but what is the use in lying? he's attempted to recruit enough wolves to know that his name and blackfeather woods are undoubtedly tied together. and he is proud of it.

she offers information in return, information that might be valuable. he is face to face ( indirectly ) with the beta of blacktail deer plateau. he doesn't know much of the pack other than she is not the first he's met from there; and they are far enough away that he does not necessarily view them as a potential threat. ...not unless they give him reason to. not that there's much he can do about it. he serves the listener and dark master and such calls are not his to make, he reminds himself.

he has a chance, perhaps, to sew the seeds of something here. wintersbane of blackfeather woods. he replies honestly, a slight lift of his chin given. he offers her no rank — speak of the dark brotherhood outside of their woods was forbidden. she could make her own assumptions.

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231 words

Wintersbane offered the requested information and nothing further, which signalled to Rue that this conversation was a good as finished. That was (more than) fine by Rue, who grew more uncomfortable with every passing moment. 

The woman nodded gratefully. "Winter's generous mercies to you, and to Blackfeather Woods," she said in farewell, offering what she knew to be a traditional, seasonal courtesy.  Likely a man named Wintersbane had the harsh season well in-hand, but even so. Winter's mercies, Wintersbane. Rue would be relieved to put this encounter behind her. 

Unless the man questioned her further, Rue would promptly depart for her homeland.

i'll go ahead and archive this. thanks for the thread! :D

wintersbane shifts his weight, studying her once more. it's in the soturi's nature to be vigilant, to be acutely observant. her words bring an amused smirk to his lips, accented by the amused noise that winds it's way from deep within his chest. winters generous mercies. it is placating and kind. neither of which winter nor the one called wintersbane particularly were. sometimes, the tundrian cannot help but wonder if his queen mother had been something of a prophet. surely, it was not by chance alone that she ( affectionately ) dubbed him wintersbane and that he would take it in stead of 'roarke'.

and the same to your kith and kin. wintersbane returns out of the obligatory need to end it civilly. not that the meeting itself hadn't been civil; for it had been. she is not the first wolf of blacktail deer plateau he's met and his curiosity about the place has risen. he does not stop her when she makes to depart: he sees no need to further drag the conversation which has come to a natural, albeit uneasy sort of ending. he suspects there was more she kept at bay but if she truly wanted to know he assumed she'd have asked.

it is only when she disappears entirely from his sight that wintersbane resumes his patrolling and marking.