Blacktail Deer Plateau Get a little dirt on your hands

@Aurëwenn <3
Dated morning of July 1st
Yesss Essie eat the baneberry!

There was something to be said for these southern lands and their pale trees, bathed as they were in the golden light of morning. Saoirse was used to the cold beauty of her home, far enough north that summer was a passing dream of warmth; the trees there had been skeletal at best, save for the thick evergreens that had bordered their pack lands. Here, the trunks were skinny, but the canopy above filtered in enough light that the ground was covered in vegetation. It was an unfamiliar sight, yet a beautiful one nonetheless.

She had found herself on the plateau as she was hunting breakfast—rather, hunting dinner, as she would soon return to Shige and they would rest during the daylight hours when his sight was weaker. Essie had already caught herself a fat hare and eaten her fill, but she wasn't quite ready to return yet. Sunlight was something they had eschewed for weeks; she wanted to enjoy the warmth in her fur for a while longer.

In the meantime, she was investigating the unfamiliar growth around her. She paused often to examine this or that bit of leaf or grass, even pulling a few stalks up to nibble on curiously. She was especially intrigued when she found a plant with a towering red stalk sticking out above several other bushes, clusters of white berries bobbing gently in the breeze. Saoirse made her way to them curiously, sticking her nose in right among the berries to get a good whiff of their scent. She'd never seen anything like it before; she wondered if they were edible, and if so, what they tasted like.

Surely no one could blame her for trying them, right?

vague vaguey vague

Daybreak wakes up in the needled hold of the spire’s north, so like Rhaesuial that it cinches at her breast; coaxing a breath of longing breath through her lungs—pine and heather in every stutter. The north of these Teekons would forever be her south, no matter how reminiscent it is of her haven and its Tines; no matter how, like it, kelebō flourish and flit through these argent-pine hinters; no matter how, like it, streams shiver, shimmering into the gloom of the plateau.

Having drawn herself some ways ahead of @Sanguinus and her sun-and-stars, the silver meandered by way of soft, suffused dawn—the stars still hang, blinking and ebbing away—and her eyes turn skyward, finding the dulling celestial bodies. The infallible northern star is there, and Aurëwen smiles, perhaps her first smile since her exile. 

“...Mélamar.”

Home was Vercingetorix’s arms, and the press of their children between them as they slept, and the salt-sea that she’d always wondered her children might smell.
But ...perhaps it was here, too. 

She is blissful in the embrace of the balmy coolness of this southerly north; skin stirring with goose flesh, the wintry hide flickering in response; she lingers here for as long as she dares, sure that those who followed her would continue to do so. Scarred head tilted to the sunup-gleaming mountains, Aurëwen waits a moment to catch her breath — only when she glimpses the ruddy-dark of Sanguinus does she choose to press on.

The greenseer, for the dawn chorus, would’ve liked to find a meal for the three tethered to her; but it was in another heartbeat that she found herself gasping, “Ála mātare! Hloirëa!” rushing for a star-pointed she-wolf, slurring through her thick, foreign tongue, “No no! Poisonings!”

A tentative lick proved the flavor to be...less than desirable, though she was still willing to continue--she'd had berries before, black ones that grew in rough patches of thorns for a few weeks only before they died out. Her brother had dared her to crawl in among the brambles for a taste, and it had been her first experience with sweet. She still enjoyed them, though she hadn't had them in many months. It was harder to get to them when you didn't fit in the tangle.

By contrast, these ones seemed to want to be eaten, waving their bounty in full view as they reached for the sky. She had just taken one between her teeth in an attempt at delicacy when a voice rang out and she heard the footsteps crashing toward her. She whipped her head around, mercifully berry-free, to see the scarred face of an otherwise beautiful she-wolf rushing toward her. It took a moment for the words to register, but Saoirse immediately leaped away from the bush the moment they did, turning a suspicious glare on the plant.

Trickster-bush, She grumbled at it, a little disappointed and even more confused; really, it didn't look threatening, how was she to know it would poison her? Still, Essie carefully stepped her way back out of the deeper shrubs, turning toward her savior with a sheepish look and a slightly wagging tail. I wasn't going to eat many, I promise! Which, to her ear, sounded more like she was concerned with the ownership of the poison berries than thanking the she-wolf for saving her. Thank you for stopping me? That was...better.

How long had it been since she talked to anyone bit Shigetoshi? Surely not long enough for all her social skills to go down the drain. Surely.

Her scarred lips part, sighing, for like the stranger before her she is wide and silver-eyed; withdrawn in words and just as quavering. But the confession nonetheless had her ruffled lips crescenting into a forgiving smile — the second one of the first of this summer moon. “You would do well to stay away from them entirely,” she entreated slowly, “they are nahtapië. Ah, bane-berry. Poisoning.” Half-sight fell to the red-rooted, ivory-bursting pomes, chiding. 

Then, after a moment, she then flushed from her previous outburst; winter-thin ears cast away, and the silver gave a sheepish cant of her tufted crown. “Forgive me. I was raised better than this. My name is Aurëwen...” The tones would’ve been songbird, had her voice not been so low, or the timbre like a trill, or the accent a purr. “Most call me Aure, though,” unable to help sparing another glance behind her — though she knew her sun-and-stars were in vigilant paws.

“Berries are fickle things, you know,” the herbalist mused, turning a listless eye back to the gilded one before her, “these, however, seem edible for only prey. Birds, namely; they like to uproot ze seeds, spread them about. If you go more southerly down through ze Kintlas, though, there is a lovely meadow bursting with them. Ah, edible berries, I mean.”

Rasping berries, blacksberries, bluesberries... And then, with another look of Forgive me, she blushed at her loquaciousness; cursed at herself once more for speaking at such length.

Saoirse focuses on the she-wolf's words with intent curiosity, turning her gaze back to the red-stemmed plant as its name was explained. Nah...nah-ta...? She attempted to emulate the word, curious, but at the unfamiliar way it curled across her tongue decided it might be better not to bother; she didn't want to sound ignorant, not even able to speak properly in this strange land.

Is there a sign, that it's poisonous? How do you tell? She enquired instead, turning back in time for the other to display their embarrassment. When Saoirse realized why, she gave a shy cringe, herself; of course, introductions. Her mother would have been furious at the lapse in manners. The other wolf's name sounded as fluid and purring as the other word she'd spoken, though that may have been her voice, and it seemed equally unpronounceable with her clumsy tongue. She latched onto the offered nickname with some relief, though she resolved to practice speaking the full name later, where no one could laugh at her attempts.

It's nice to meet you, Aure. I'm Sao--..erm. Essie. People call me Essie. She couldn't help following the other's gaze as she looked back, and then glancing over her own shoulder, a rising fear that they were being watched creeping up her throat. She saw nothing, smelled nothing, but that meant nothing. She tamped down on the feeling of creeping dread, forcing her smile a bit wider in response to it.

I have never encountered many berries, or other plants, She admitted, ears perking forward. There was a small patch near my home as a pup, though. It would be nice to see more that were...not poisonous. But, how can they be so dangerous for us and safe for the birds? They're so much smaller. Honest curiosity, heedless of the other's discomfort at speaking so much—oblivious, almost, in her want to know.