Barrow Fields lay your weapons down

AW - tags for reference :)

They were nearing the ocean. Laurel's feeling of direction was pretty shoddy but at least she'd managed to find the ocean after they'd trekked through the mountain ridge. @Indra and @Marten weren't far off when Laurel let them rest and set off towards the field to go scout a bit. After her falling out with Marten she hadn't had a heart-to-heart with him again, and part of her felt a little guilty. She didn't want to be at odds with Indra's sort-of son but she also would never admit that she was wrong. Because she wasn't wrong. Anyway, after Indra had given her a bit of a pep talk Laurel had taken the steering wheel back and had lead them further north towards the ocean. The air's scent was already growing saltier and though Laurel hadn't seen the ocean up close she knew they were drawing near from when she'd looked out across the lands from a higher vantage point. She was eager to see the ocean; from the mountains, it looked so vast.

As she stepped into the field accompanied by the moon's light Laurel felt a little eerie. The mounds scattered across the field looked ominous somehow, as if wolves were buried there perhaps. A shudder ran down her spine as she continued further north across the field, hoping to find some traces of a pack who might know about Lucas there (oh, and Wyatt).

Artaax was not usually one for leaving home and exploring, but today, he was agitated. There were too many damn women in the pack with their smells and their bodies, and Niamh had rejected him and there was no one to kill and... Ugh. It all made for a grumpy feisripa, and grumpy fesiripas tended to take their aggravation and channel it into the hunt.

There had been no scent to follow when first he'd abandoned the Cliffs, but one eventually had come to him - just as he'd anticipated. He was just that good, after all. He hadn't completely figured out yet what it was that he was hunting - it smelled vaguely canine, but not wolf or coyote. The memory of the fox kit tickled at his senses, giving him a mental picture of what he was hunting. That old, weird sense of guilt and shame pricked at his stomach. But it was a single pinprick, and then it was gone, shoved deep down and away where it couldn't be a bother to him.

Artaax followed the trail for another ten minutes before it suddenly crossed one that was far more familiar. The hunter froze and looked up with a frown. There was a wolf around here, and it was another damn woman. His lips peeled back in a silent snarl for a flash before he settled his features again into his usual stoic expression and continued to creep around the weird little hills. His intention was to avoid this stranger altogether, but his epic talent for succeeding in every one of his endeavors failed him, and he rounded a particularly large mound to find himself looking the woman squarely in the face, only a dozen or so yards before him.

Damnit.

Laurel hadn't expected to find anyone in this weird-looking field, so when someone's face suddenly popped up not far from her she froze in place and looked bewildered. What the fuck are you doing was her first thought, but Laurel decided to rein herself in a little and react a little less abrasively at first. Her face still pretty much read 'what the fuck are you doing' for a split second before Laurel decided to compose herself and she put a cheerful smile on her face. The attentive viewer would notice it was just a mask considering how scorned and annoyed she'd looked moments ago.

Anyway, she said: Hi! What're you doing here? Do you belong to a pack? Laurel tilted her head in faux curiosity as she waited for his response, hoping that he had a pack somewhere near. She'd always disliked the phrase 'belong to a pack' or 'of a pack' because her ass belonged to nobody, thank you very much. But likeable Laurel didn't mind using it all that much.

Artaax's expression held none of the annoyance he felt at finding himself in the stranger's company, but still he noted how the female's face mirrored his internal sentiments. She adjusted quickly, but it was too late to avoid sending his mind straight to making an assumption about what had just happened in her head. She clearly had been annoyed to be interrupted in whatever she was doing, until she got a better look at who had interrupted her. This pleased the white lion, and he felt his own irritation ease. He didn't have time or patience for very many, but he could spare some for those who appreciated his physical magnificence.

"Hunting," Artaax answered, his voice a deep, soft rumble, "I am feisripa of Drageda. We claim the cliffs further North on the coast." He peered stoically at her, breathing in her scent and learning what he could. She smelled of others, but not many. She smelled more like earth and trees and journeys than anything else. "Where do you come from?" he asked, rather obscurely.

If Laurel had known what went on in Artaax' head she would be very pleased, for his thoughts were exactly what her brightened mood was supposed to unlock in another. The thought that they were wanted, desired, important in some way to her. That way they would be nicer, give her what she wanted and would help her if she needed it. Either way, he seemed friendly enough, and he wasn't unpleasant to look at either, she admitted.

He said he was hunting and introduced himself as 'feisripa' (whatever that meant) of Drageda, a pack on the cliffs further north. By the ocean. He asked her a question in return, asking where she'd come from. I'm travelling with my sister, she convenient left out Marten's presence. She didn't want him there anyway. We're looking for a yearling, a boy called Lucas who has my fur colour but with white mingled in. Only as an afterthought she added: And another of the same age with black ragged hair called Wyatt. Maybe he had seen either. Realising that she hadn't really answered the question, Laurel added: We come from Bearclaw Valley originally. All this was shared with a kind and interested smile on her face, her voice almost bubbly and excitable; an entirely different side of Laurel than her family and pack ever got to see. Only strangers got this privilege.

Artaax was nothing if not a people pleaser. He just rarely pleased them in the ways he believed he did. Don't bother telling him that, though, he'll never believe you anyway.

He listened as she answered his question, not at all suspecting that she was withholding anything from him. The sister explained the scent of other wolves on her coat, and the search for two other wolves explained the travel. He didn't know either of the names and likely would not have even if he'd met them before (which he had met one, sort of, if doing battle with them and a majority of their pack counted as "meeting"). Artaax typically disregarded most that he encountered, so he had little to offer the female.

"I don't know anyone by those names or descriptions," he said honestly, "I don't travel much." The only time he had was in his search for Bat, and even then, he'd mostly avoided his own kind. He preferred to rely on himself - most others were a disappointment. He was breaking his rules with this one, though he was slowly starting to change his mind. He liked that she seemed to be so interested in him, but she was also very... upbeat. He preferred his women strong, intelligent, and hot-tempered.

God he's weird.

"You are not part of a pack now?" he asked, deciding to take a slightly more direct approach to the question he'd asked. He didn't know where Bearclaw Valley was, nor why she had mentioned it. Being part of Drageda whose name was not derived of the territory they claimed, he didn't take Bearclaw Valley to be the name of a pack and so assumed she was just sharing random information.

Laurel was disappointed when he hadn't heard of the boys, but then again, it was a bit of a stretch anyway that she'd find someone who knew of them out here. Still, though, she got used to the disappointment and decided to just keep going. Oh, she said, some of her disappointment shining through. Either way, he went on to ask her if she was not part of a pack now, and she shook her head.

Me and my sister were leaders of Bearclaw Valley, then moved to Lost Creek Hollow before the winter because resources were scarce. She didn't bother to mention that they were no longer leaders there, because she liked others to think that she held status. From there we left to travel and find Lucas and Wyatt. Well, and Piper, but it turned out she was out travelling and Indra had already found her whereabouts back at -- of all wolves, ugh -- Stigmata's pack. They'd go collect her on the way back eventually, was the plan.

Yeah, he was losing interest. She began to talk about the valley again and then mentioned something about a lost creek. And that didn't make any sense - if she lived there, she obviously knew where it was, so how was it lost? Artaax stared blankly as she continued and mentioned the two she was looking for once again. This was going no where, and he was growing more and more aware of the fact that he had a fox to catch.

He stared at her for an awkward stretch of time in which silence reigned before finally he parted his lips to ask, "So... you are not part of a pack then?" He didn't wait long for clarification then before he pressed forward in excusing herself from her company. "Be careful of the wolves in the grotto if you continue North. They are enemies," he said shortly, moving forward towards her with every intention to pass right by and continue his hunt, assuming she didn't try to stop him.

Laurel couldn't quite decipher what was going on inside his head. He just kept staring at her after she finished speaking. She, too, was quickly losing interest in this conversation, not being the most social butterfly to start with and now this guy was just being outright creepy. He then asked if she wasn't part of a pack, which she had literally just told him. Ugh. Laurel didn't even reply to his question, because she wasn't sure she could muster to do so in super-friendly-mask-way.

Then he warned her for the wolves, in some grotto, to which Laurel said Thanks for the warning. And then he just?? walked off?? Even though Laurel lost her own interest in the exchange she couldn't help but feel slighted that he didn't even say goodbye. Like what the fuck dude, just because I was going to walk away myself it doesn't give you the right to? But whatever. Rude asshole, she muttered just loud enough for him to hear as she did a hairtoss-without-hair-to-toss movement, lifting her head into the air and then started to walk off herself if she wasn't stopped.

Maybe she'd check out that grotto. If they were enemies of some rude dimwit, then they couldn't be that bad.

Artaax was intent on leaving the moron woman behind, but paused when he heard her parting words. She called him a rude asshole, and suddenly he was once more intrigued. He turned partway to looked back at her, his eyes narrowed, but not in anger. He was intrigued.

"Why?" he asked, wanting to prod at this bit of personality he had unintentionally unearthed. He truly wasn't aware of what he'd done to paint himself as an asshole, being oblivious to the flaws in his social graces. He had just done her a massive favor by warning her of the Rusalka wolves, so what about that made him rude? These were not actually things he wondered though as he peered at her. Artaax just wanted to see more of the fire that had sparked.

Artaax would totally be into S&M as a human, I've just decided. And he would not be the dominant. Not sure how I feel about this.

Seriously?? she snapped as she stopped to look over her shoulder at him. He looked almost genuinely dumbfounded at her statement, as if he didn't understand why he was rude. Maybe if he'd been angry she would've startled a bit, considering most wolves just ignored such statements or went off to feel bad about being badmouthed in silence. But he wasn't angry, he was just... seemingly genuinely confused. W o w.

Laurel rolled her eyes and said: You just walked away without even so much as a good bye. Yeah, sure, he'd warned her about wolves by some grotto, but that was basically it, and it wasn't like there was any proof of their horribleness so far either. I've been nothing but nice to you, and then you just act like a piece of worthless shit. Well, okay, maybe only in his goodbye-greeting, but Laurel just wanted to see how far she could push now. Apparently being scolded at behind his back did nothing to him, so might as well poke a bit further.

That did the trick.

Artaax straightened a bit as she began to snap at him, his interest definitely ensnared now. She threw her reasons at him venomously, but he didn't totally pay attention to them. He was more interested in watching the way her narrowed brows sharpened her face and made her eyes gleam, and how her prickled hackles made her appear stronger and more intimidating than when she'd been playing the flirtatious airhead.

He liked this look on her better. When she finished hissing at him, he canted his head and asked, "What is your name?"

Laurel rolled her eyes as he just stood there and stared at her, and then asked for her name. Of all things he could do. Um, how about starting at 'sorry'?! Fuck you, asshat creep! she snapped rather than giving her name. Laurel contemplated brushing her shoulder against his but he looked strong and was probably stronger than she, so she wouldn't be able to push him aside.

Laurel threw her head in the air and started walking off once more, feeling pretty damn good, actually. Powerful, in control. Fuck yeah, she showed this weirdo.

She didn't tell him. That was alright. Artaax was unphased as she snapped at him and turned to walk away. It was clear she was completely over his company and now was likely the time for him to get back to hunting something more attainable. He considered the fox again and how nice it would be to have a warm meal in his belly, but decided after a moment that the angry brunette would be more satisfying.

"Nice meeting you, Fuckyou Asshat'Creep," he called to her before she had gone all too far, letting the inflection adopted for Trigedasleng drip across the words to make it sound more like an exotic name than the angry insult it was meant to be.

It was very tempting to turn around and bite his face off when he twisted her words around and re-spoke them as if it was her name, except.. weirdly spoken. Laurel's hackles pricked as she shot him a sharp look over her shoulder, teeth bared, but she decided against it. This was what the weird-ass creep wanted, of course, and she would not give it to him therefore. Giving him the proverbial finger Laurel turned back en route and shouted loudly over her shoulder: FUCK OFF! while she felt pretty proud of having denied him the extra attention, however tempting it had been. That should show him to bother anyone like that.

Artaax didn't usually show much emotion on his face. Those who knew him best knew the signs, but he mostly kept his expressions a mask. It was the way nomi had always been to him and he wanted nothing more than to be just like her. So, it typically was either nothing, or annoyance, or anger. Usually it was nothing. 
But sometimes, such as now when Laurel's back was turned to him and he knew that no one would catch sight of it, he would let the mask fall and crack a smile. The FUCK OFF! had amused him greatly and so he smirked at her retreating frame while his shoulders shook briefly from the small laugh that escaped his chest.

He didn't pursue her again, or try to stop her from leaving his company. This seemed like it had been a successful enough encounter to him, so he was content to leave it at this. It would've been a lie to say that he didn't hope to cross paths with her again in the future, but for now, he had a fox to catch.