Deepwood Weald Beneath the dense trees

There was a dampness to the air that could send a shiver down one's spine alone, and with very little sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees, the bitter chill worked its way through Memphis's patterned fur, crawling beneath his hide like a venomous snake. A wall of fog scudded across this particular area of the wood today, and it would never fail to surprise him that he could effortlessly walk through the silver wall, like some sort of ethereal form. He had to admit that this unfamiliar location was difficult to reach the exit, especially with all the identical ferns that stood in his way, and the mysterious mist made him harder to continue his route. Despite all the difficulties, he remained optimistic, knowing that he would eventually find his way out of the maze.

Memphis was neither silent with his travel nor particularly loud, his paws only bothering to change their course out of instinct when they encountered a fallen twig. Part of him hoped that he would encounter a few friendly rogues, but the logical part of him was what forced him to be content with enjoying the somewhat unsettling scenery alone. The gentle breeze wafted the mist through the distant undergrowth, and with them came the scent of a creature. The grey wolf began to skulk near the colorful ferns as the leaves whipped against his legs with the sound of falling rain. When he reached a suitable proximity, he lowered himself closer to the autumn's blanket as the tiny paws of the same creature stepped against withered leaves sounded off like a softly repeating alarm echoing between the growing birch trees. Memphis's flaring nostrils took one more whiff of the now memorized scent of the large hare before he darted forward, pouncing half-blindly in the sparse leaves that separated himself from the frail creature. His mouth opened frantically as a whirl of brown tinted fur brushed past his chin, his jaws crushing down with a terrible crunch on what appeared to be the neck of the hare, blood surging into his awaiting mouth. Memphis dropped the lifeless animal and tore its skin apart with his incisors, allowing his stomach the rest it deserved.

In the wake of the ominous trembling and groaning which had seemingly come from the very belly of the earth, rising to shake the craggy, mountains, it seemed that their most reliable forms of food had ventured off in search of safer pastures. Normally, they had wintering grounds where they would ascend to higher altitudes to escape the hunger of the predators who lurked in the plains and forests, but it seemed now that even the most remote areas of the mountains were no longer dappled by the grazing herbivores that often sought refuge where the air was clear but thin. Niamh felt dismayed; the deer and elk had fled their normal wintering grounds, and she had yet to find their path and track them down again. Regardless, it seemed as though they possibly had ventured further than it would be practical for the pack to journey, hunt, and then return to the copse. It felt quite likely that they might have to migrate as well, follow the path of their much needed food source and winter nearby so that they didn't starve as well. 

She had begun to roam a bit further from the pack than she usually did, and cut her way north along the winding river that murmured quietly at the mountain range's feet. Her old haunt- the grouse thicket- was quiet as well, and Niamh felt dismayed to find that it was no longer a hidden gem for hunting. The brambles and brush were now bristly and brown, having shed their fiery autumn leaves, and left nothing behind but a prickly labyrinth which held no prize at the end. She abandoned the area, making a note to alert the others that yet another prime hunting ground had become as barren as the leafless branches on the quaking aspen that lined the river. She pushed on, heading further North. 

She slipped into the misty forest, her eyes adjusting easily to her dim surroundings as she made her way in search of any telltale signs that perhaps the forest would be a viable place to spend the winter. All she needed would be to find some promise that larger herbovires had moved into this area, talking shelter where it was eerily quiet and dark, save for the rattling of the few dying leaves which flitted past her with each soft breeze. It was only when she heard the telltale sounds of a creature dashing through the forest that she paused, and leaned into the breeze to sniff hopefully- only to find herself mildly disappointed once more. There was a wolf nearby, but with the wind at her back, she couldn't tell much more than that. Though the wind worked against her, likely bringing her scent to him long before she would catch sight of him, she didn't mind. Most wolves hated being caught by surprise anyway, and it wasn't as though she was stalking him the way a wolf might stalk their prey. 

Fortune had chosen to shine upon him, though, because when Niamh finally found herself able to pick his form out in the dim light against the leaf-dappled ground, he had mostly finished eating what looked like a hare. Small prey animals weren't as scarce yet as they would be in the winter, so she still felt somewhat optimistic about the forest being a potential hunting ground. Especialy so, now that she saw that hunting was definitely a possibility here. She maintained her distance and chuffed softly to catch his attention. He didn't smell as though he belonged to a pack...Which could also potentially be a good thing. She felt overworked, with patrolling and searching for new hunting grounds...And since he could obviously hunt, he might make for a good recruit. She perked her ears forward, attentive to see if he was receptive to any amount of company- without gazing too longingly at his scraps so as to lead him to believe that she might beg.

Memphis was halfway done with his small meal, and there were still, however, some remaining meats that clung to the bones of the lifeless creature. When he decided to part his maw to take another bite of the bloodstained hare, a set of paws entered the scene, taking him slightly off-guard, his left medium ear swiveling at the puffing sound that was paired with his quiet surroundings. With slight anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach, Memphis lifted his skull and twirled his body around when a figure in his peripheral vision caught his attention. The outward appearance was hard to discern at this foggy distance, but he could tell that it was a fully grown wolf. A prolonged breath of what sounded like defeat escaped his maw, though to Memphis – it was only a normal breath that helped him maintain his composure. Silence engulfed him for a moment or two as he wondered if the stranger was looking for a golden opportunity to steal his reward.

The average male licked his muzzle and moved forward at a deliberate pace, his cinnamon eyes instantly sharpening with wariness, the details of the figure were coming into sharper focus, such as the bushy, light amber and blonde pelt that swathed a sturdy frame. He halted a respectable distance away from the tall wolf, and likely female judging by her scent. His brown orbs raked across her for a brief moment, assessing her demeanor and body language in an attempt to get a better read on her. She was quietly watching the action, and she didn't seem to exhibit any signs of aggression. Memphis had learned to be wary of others, but he had also learned that there was good in this world too and that it wasn't to be passed up unless it threatened one's survival.

He maintained a calm posture and offered the female a polite inclination of his head, noticing her minor scars near her left honey eye. "Hello." He spoke in a voice as soft as a whisper, but loud enough to be carried across the colorful undergrowth. Without fixing too much on the female's scars, he waited patiently for words to escape her muzzle, his face portraying a mix of curiosity and cautions. The occasional wind caressed his thick pelt and enveloped him in its circle of slight restlessness. Memphis's ebony nose wrinkled lightly, drawing in the scent of her to learn more about them. The odor of a specific tree and ragweed wafted to him, mingled with the sweet scents of flowers. It was evident that this blonde wolf dwelt in the pack territory.

Movement caused the blonde to stiffen slightly, but only for the brief instant it took for her to register that he was not striking a defensive or aggressive posture. Like her, he seemed relaxed, albeit still slightly guarded. The two did not greet each other as friends, nor did they look upon each other with the same excited, hopefuly vigor that a younger wolf might have had. Niamh suppressed the instinct to lick her lips, smelling the scent of the kill on the air as still, she did not want him to believe that she had approached because she wanted to either take or be given the meal he'd caught for himself. Of course- Niamh would never turn down a meal, especially not this time of year, and even if there was nothing left but gristle and bone. Her relentless appetite still remained one of her most incorrigible features, but she saw no reason to change that, anyway. It kept her healthy, and she was nowhere near too proud a wolf to accept a gift- or steal from a less fortunate soul. 

But this fellow before her was nothing of that sort- and as he examined her features, she was distracted from any self-consciousness she might have felt had she known he was studying her facial scars by the fact that the male was missing an ear. He was in good form- well built, and she could only assume that he'd lost the ear in some form of fight or struggle...But the rest of him looked fit and healthy. Though he did not smell of any other wolves, or any one particular terrestrial trademark, he certainly seemed fit to take care of himself despite the fact that he was likely a drifter. She wouldn't be quick to assume that the lifestyle suited him- but it certainly did not seem to harm him. And there was a mildness about his lips that proclaimed no devil. Why he was out on his own was likely his own reason, and not her business- but he greeted her with a calm civility that made her feel like she had perhaps chanced upon a wolf who was destined to climb the ranks of a pack, should he put his efforts into fulfilling such a position. 

"Hello," She said in response, her voice slightly louder than his had been, but just as temperate. She'd thought of perhaps saying 'good afternoon' or 'good evening,' but given the dimness of the forest, she wasn't exactly sure what time of day it was anymore. It would likely be fairly dark by the time she reached the Copse again- the days were, after all, getting shorter. Part of her was hungry to bring a good, able wolf home to the pack, so that they could have another strong adult to rely on...But at the same time, she couldn't rush into anything. She would have to vouch for anyone she brought back with her, and Niamh wasn't the sort of wolf to put her name and reputation on the line for many others...She had seen others do the same for their family and friends- and she had felt her own opinion of her packmate falter when their new addition inevitably disappointed them, and drifted off into the wilderness. Still, with winter approaching, she felt the sting of desperation begin to unsettle her. With the access to Asterism Grove blocked, their sister pack couldn't band together with them to hunt, and she felt keenly aware of how lonely their existance was, and how demise seemed to be unwilling to shake its grasp on their small pack. Perhaps it was time to invest some trust in strangers if it would mean they had a better chance of surviving the winter. So she felt herself tasting the idea of two questions- was he really fit to join their pack, and would she be able to convince him to join them? 

Best not rock the boat before it even left the dock, though. "I'm Niamh, of the Firebirds," She said. She watched his expression to see what he thought of the pack name. There might be some humour to feel, given the fact that she, as a representative of a pack thusly named, was coloured somewhat like a goldfinch. He might also scoff at the idea of a group of wolves naming themselves after a bird that didn't even exist- or after a bird at all. These ideas made her a bit uncomfortable. She couldn't even say she was a beta or delta or anything like that- as they had chosen to run with a different heirarchical structure...But would mentioning that she was the unofficial 'Sergeant-at-Arms' be a bit too offputting? Did she even look like such a thing? And why was she questioning herself so much? This was just some stranger she'd met in the woods...But maybe there was something about the inquisitive, curious, dark cinnamon gaze that made her feel as though someone was actually looking at her, for once. This was someone who didn't know her- he didn't know what she'd done, what she'd been through- and for once she was being watched by brown eyes that weren't full of resentment. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and scolded herself as she felt her composure melt away a bit.

"Do you...Have you settled in this forest, or are you just passing through?" There- a question along the lines of business which had brought her to the area. That was a neutral topic, though she felt stupid making small talk. Was it small talk? Or was she trying to edge toward business talk? Of course, she did want to know if the forest was perhaps a suitable winter hunting ground, but if he'd chosen to settle here, it might mean competition. Of course, it might also let her know where he had chosen to haunt- and if he was on the move, or searching for something.

A wave of calmness washed over Memphis's face, his shoulders lowering slightly, his ruffled fur settling against his body as he paid attention to the female. Her presence was calming, despite not knowing her well, and it seemed that she had no intention to steal the hare. Memphis already appreciated the brief time she took to introduce herself. It was a rare occasion that he encountered such a respectful wolf. He still remembered the previous events when the other rogues were giving him an inimical attitude, most of them were chasing him and snitching his remaining meal. He didn't have a choice but to survive and protect himself against potential threats, and it was difficult for him to endure those moments. Not all vagabonds were accustomed to living on their own; they would hunt and fend for themselves and seek a shelter every night for survival. He had started his journey with a knack for it early on, having had to hunt most of his meals even when in the predator territories, and sometimes have to fight for them as well. Life was never meant to be easy – it was only meant to be lived, sometimes happy and other times rough, but with every up and down, Memphis had learned lessons that had made him stronger.

The grey wolf straightened his posture, preparing to make an introduction to the female. He found himself wondering if his previous tone wasn't friendly enough; he tended to remain rather placid and reserve at first introductions. He also had the habit of staying vigilant due to his rough childhood. Without lapsing too much into silence, he extended a greeting again, his jaws unhinging to speak. "My name is Memphis. It's a pleasure to meet you, Niamh. Thanks for the introduction." He said softly with a subtle flick of his delicate tail. Niamh, it was a beautiful name, he would be sure to use it eventually if he kept in contact with her. He approached between the birch trees to observe the details of the scenery, autumn leaves crackling and stirring beneath him, a slight curve of his average body in her direction, allowing him to face her again, his utmost hope to ensure she knew that she held his attention. He sat back slowly on his haunches, giving her a faint smile in an attempt to display more his friendly aura, his wispy fur dragging along the fallen leaves that littered upon it on the way. It was clear that the female had already noticed his torn ear, but it appeared that she didn't pay too much attention to it, she was seemingly inclined to exchange more words with him, which Memphis felt more at ease by her approach.

Firebirds? The male assumed that it was the name of Niamh's pack. Her main territories were likely not far from this vast forest. He had to admit that he never had the chance to live with a group of wolves, but he knew a bit how packs worked. His adoptive mother used to tell him fascinating stories about wolves who possessed ranks and roles. Pack-mates generally cooperated together as a family to keep the pack running smoothly, they all stuck together through thick and thin. They mostly remained dignified and loyal to their alphas, and more importantly, they bravely faced constant dangers and battles to protect their precious territories. Memphis had already thought about joining a pack, but he was unsure if he had enough skills to impress the alphas. Having lived in solitude for as long as he had, he didn't recall what it was like to have a superior and work together as a team, but he truly believed that he had the potential to perform any task and defend a pack if it were to come to the extreme. Perhaps he might have the chance to join the Firebirds if he interacted with Niamh, but for the time being, he would gradually learn to trust her.

"I'm just passing here to find food and shelter, mostly surviving in this insane maze." Once the words left his maw, Memphis took a few steps forward to inspect the ferns that were painted with the golds and rusty reds. He wasn't so sure where to find the exit of this giant maze. Most pathways were nearly indistinguishable from one another, and the leafy carpet seemed to stretch as far as a traveler could see in every direction. The distant trees that naturally formed repetitive patterns left Memphis perplexed, but he had no intention of giving up his travel. With a glance back at the blonde wolf, he wondered if she got lost in this tricky location. Maybe they could work together to solve the puzzle and get back on track. After all, two heads are better than one. Right? Mild excitement bubbled up to tickle his stomach at the reminder of the hare. He returned to his previous spot, where he managed to kill the prey at his first attempt. He nearly took another bite of his meal, but he stopped abruptly, allowing for a momentary pause. The average male craned his head before letting his cinnamon eyes to fall upon the athletic figure of the female. He silently mused for a moment, his left ear twitching atop his skull. It wasn't very long before he decided to offer Niamh his reward. It seemed that she had traveled a lot today, and perhaps she needed to regain some of her energy for her next travels. "Niamh, do you want to eat the rest of the hare?" He was willing to share if she gladly accepted the offer.

He moved, and Niamh watched him, unable to take her attention away from him and the thoughts that he stirred within her mind. He didn't seem like he was hiding much of anything, and from what she could see, he looked fairly stable and calm, and that was something that her pack could use. She went back and forth between telling herself she didn't need to be so desperate as to seek out recruits while she travelled and telling herself that it wasn't a bad idea at all...And she was fairly certain already that she could vouch for him. She felt convinced that she was a good judge of character (even though history clearly disproved that theory) and that she wouldn't regret bringing him back with her. 

Momentarily, though, she had to stop and think about what the others might think if she brought a handsome, healthy male back with her. Her reputation with males was already fairly poor, considering the fact that everyone in the pack knew how horrible she'd been with romancing Colt. She was sure there were other rumours about her- rumours which stemmed from actual events that she was fairly ashamed of...But if she did bring Memphis back with her, would they rush to assume that she was bringing back another beau? The very thought made her feel slightly ill, as she was in no way ready to even think about such a thing. She was still angry, hurt and depressed from losing her mate six months ago- so she clearly had not finished the grieving process, but the disappearance of their daughter and resentment of their son hadn't helped either. Perhaps she was reaching out simply because she felt as though she was lost somewhere in the void, tossed into some sort of purgatory where she had no roots, no foundation, no one to lean on and nothing to grab onto. Maybe she needed to find someone, for whatever purpose they'd play in her life, for the sake of finding someone, grabbing them, and bringing them into her life. 

He was very polite, and as he drew nearer, Niamh moved toward him as well, sitting herself still so that she was facing him, but now they were close enough that the distance between them required a small amount of trust. One lunge and one of them could easily attack the other- but with both sitting and relaxed, it almost didn't seem possible. Part of her still screamed at her not to trust him- don't get too close, and don't let your guard down!- but Niamh had never been good at listening to her conscience. The devil on her shoulder had a voice that was too alluring to be ignored. 

He spoke as he moved away from her, and she uttered a small laugh. "It's not so bad once you get familiar with the place...And it's safe, here," She said, commenting on the forest. Any newcomers would indeed find the dark, misty forest difficult to navigate, which would give any who lived there an advantage. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of living in a different forest- one with more secrets, perhaps, and one that had more shelter than the copse. In the winter, this one would provide better cover than the Copse would, due to the fact that it had more softwood trees which could keep them better protected from cold winds and heavy snowfalls. She watched as he moved to look about, and return to his hare. She watched with hungry eyes as he took another bite, before he stopped. When he offered the rest of it to her, she tilted her head back slightly and laughed again, moving forward in accordance with his invitation. "Of course I would." She answered honestly. "It's rude to turn down a dinner invitation, isn't it?" She asked, but felt a part of her conscience- perhaps what might've been some semblance of an angel on her other shoulder- glower at her. She didn't make a grab for the hare at once, though- to do so might have seemed needy or unrefined, so she waited, almost needing him to offer again. "Only if you're sure, though," She said, leaving him the opportunity to rescind his offer- though it would certainly change her opinion of him if he did.

The average wolf tilted his head to the side, a look of mild confusion crossing over his features, his brown orbs lingering on Niamh's amused expression. He wasn't expected at all to hear a laugh from her. Perhaps a wary glance or a brief smile – but not whatever a glimmer of amusement had emerged from this female. He couldn't help himself but wonder why she suddenly broke out in laughter. He didn't say something hilarious thus far, nor did he attempt to show his humorous side. Maybe Niamh just loved to express her delighted emotions when she opened a friendly conversation with her new acquaintances. Memphis didn't mind at all to hear her laughter; in fact, he would rather listen to a laugh than a guttural growl from the insolent rogues that he had encountered before. His lips broadened into a soft grin as he rhythmically swayed his bushy tail, his wariness and anxiousness completely draining from his body. When was the last time Memphis heard a laugh so lighthearted and blissful? He still managed to visualize the good old times when he used to non-stop laughing with his siblings, but unfortunately, those joyful moments were incredibly short before the tragedy had occurred. So many heavy thoughts now crossed his mind simultaneously, but he didn't want to keep recalling his past, he wanted to lock it in the back of his mind and throw away the key perpetually. It wasn't difficult for him to think about it – even thoughts of his precious family flashed through his eyes and managed to receive the same eerie blankness in response – but he wanted to move forward regardless.

Memphis's sharp eyes skimmed his surroundings again, swiftly noticing the swaying branches that murmured their perpetual monotone. No other mysterious sounds were disturbing the tranquility of nature. Despite the puzzling obstacles, this wilderness area was peaceful, so utterly peaceful that it was probably considered a safe place to visit, just like Niamh said. She was seemingly familiar with this maze. "This weald is also very calm. I'm willing to learn this place by heart and enjoy the peacefulness of it." This location would be almost perfect if the water access were nearby, such as stream and creek. Memphis could only detect a faint scent of lakes to the south.

He shifted his gaze toward his source of company, his face lit up in a timid smile, searching for the right words to answer her first question. "Umm." His cinnamon eyes roamed the leafy ground as if he was looking for hints. Niamh was inclined to eat the remaining hare, though her honey gaze went to him in slight consideration, as she was waiting for the proper authorization to take his meal. "I'm one hundred percent sure." His response was quick, and he didn't even take a second to reflect on the opportunity to recover his prize. Memphis would never change his mind if he offered food to his companion – it would be rude if to cancel his offer. Without hesitation, he carried the lifeless creature and approached the blonde female at a gentle pace, allowing the small corpse to fall limp in the hold of his loosening jaws, dexterously placing it at the tip of his front paws. "Take it. You will need it." He assured Niamh, surfacing one of his paws to nudge his hare lightly in her direction. A soft twinkle was introduced to his optics, and his tail gave a flick of friendliness towards her, encouraging her to enjoy the small snack. He sat calmly on the autumn's blanket, waiting for her with a patient demeanor.