Bramblepoint Oozings and visible membranes are rude and thoughtless

Dragomir had three purposes for wandering out of Moonspear's territory that misty morning.

Number one: Isilmë was missing. He'd scoured the packland for her and found no recent signs of passing, and that put a sick sort of worry into his heart. Partly because Vercingetorix's murderer was still at large, and partly because he couldn't bear to lose the last family member he had. He struck out to search for her along one of her stale scent trails.

Number two: stores were getting low. Now that he could get around with relative ease, barring his limp, Dragomir felt the need to start contributing. He wasn't a good hunter yet—he'd lost a lot of time to practise while lying around with broken legs—but he would do whatever he could, and so his nose was also on the hunt for signs of fresh prey.

Number three: He needed to be certain his mother wasn't still lurking about. His sanity demanded it.

So out he went into Bramblepoint, whose trees had lost the majority of their leaves now and whose berry bushes reached up from the ground like taloned hands, grasping pieces of his thickening coat as he went. Sometimes the fur pulled out with a painful pinch and Dragomir would wince and whirl, clapping his teeth together against the thorny branches as if fighting off an enemy, but there was never another set of eyes looking back at him when he did.

NANOWRIMO: 240

Once upon a time the earth was untouched by chaos. Even through dark times one could look upon mother nature's hairs and smile. That beauty was few and far between now. 

So what happened to the world? When Marilla ventured away from home (oh, it still felt like yesterday!)  everything was just the way it was. The grass was still green, the air was still crisp, a wide arrangement of color dazzled the wanderer's eye. But the farther she traveled the more dark the earth became. Trees young and old littered the ground, along with boulders from mountains. There were cracks, no chasms, in places where they should not be. Prey was nowhere to be found. You were lucky if you came across a sickly corpse.

Perhaps the young woman should have stayed at home. After all it was a heaven of sorts, much more than what can be said about this place. But despite this, Marilla still carried on with a smile. There was something exciting about a struggle.

She came across a forest, it's trees long bare by now. She poked at the wiry twigs with mild interest. This place was rich with life once, most likely in the summer. She would have to pay a visit once winter ceased.

Sevral cracks and snaps drew her attention away from the bushes. Carefully she dipped and weaved through the maze until she spotted a young soul. He seemed to be having trouble with the branches. You're only making it worse you know, she called, Twirling around like that.

Even though Dragomir was intentionally out here looking for Isilmë or signs that his mother continued to skulk in Moonspear's shadow, the last thing he was expecting was company. Marilla's voice cut through Bramblepoint like the crack of a whip, louder than the snap of any twig, and it was so unanticipated that Dragomir's heart jumped into his throat and he froze on the spot. His ears twitched. His tail lashed once. It was unfortunate, for "the spot" happened to be him with a mouthful of twigs, halfway through another chomp.

The casual manner that he extracted himself from the bush was a little too nonchalant to be convincing, and his pricked hackles weren't doing him any favours when it came to pretending he wasn't startled. He turned slowly, much too slowly, and tried his best to look like the sight of Marilla wasn't a complete surprise. For half a second, hope blossomed in his chest because he thought she was Isilmë, made thin by the famine, but ... ah, no, not enough silver. Marilla was plain white.

Besides, her muzzle was just way too long to be his sister's. It was verging on kind of unnatural, actually, not that Dragomir would ever say that out loud. What he did say was an incredibly smooth and not at all awkward, maybe I like twirling around and making things hard.

NANOWRIMO: 229

He looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment. Still, tense, quiet. In his mouth sat a bunch of sticks, puncturing him no doubt. The sight made her cringe and she silently pleaded the stranger to cease his nonsense. But of course he continued. He turned to her slowly as if she'd never been there.

Up until this point Marilla was able to withhold her judgment. He's a young boy, perhaps common sense hadn't knocked him in the face yet. But when he uttered those downright ridiculous words she couldn't stifle a laugh.

Really now? Just seems inconvenient to me. I mean is it really that hard to just... The girl then began to move closer. Every step was a cautious one; she ducked, she weaved, she gently moved some branches out of her way. By the time the distance between them was closed Marilla was left with little scratches. Slow and steady as they say. She lifted her chin and smiled before giving her full attention to the stranger. Name's Marilla. And you are?

Dragomir could only watch as Marilla weaved through the branches, making her way to him in a manner that was far too slow for an impatient boy like him. He had to admit it would be nice to come out with fewer scrapes, but who wanted to spend hours picking their way through a forest like that? Not him. They would just have to agree to disagree on the best way to clamber through Bramblepoint: Marilla with her grace and caution, Dragomir with his bull-in-a-china-shop approach.

You call it inconvenient, he drawled, I call it a challenge. It'd take forever to get anywhere like that. Both of them would know full well that challenge was, in this context, a nicer word for a pain in the ass. He wasn't fooling anyone. Dragomir just wanted to seem impressive. It'd been so long since he felt like he was worth anything that he craved to be seen as bold and fearless, just a little bit, and everyone at Moonspear already knew he was no such thing. He had to seek his validation in strangers like Marilla.

Dragomir, he replied, pressing forward a few feet with a wretched amount of twig snapping and jabs in the ribs from errant sticks. From Moonspear. You from a pack around here?

NANOWRIMO: 215

Inconvenient, challenge. What was the difference? Rushing through a sea of thorns could never lead to good. Just blood, loose fur, aching gums, and more blood. Ah well, she could understand method to his madness. Stupid yes, but effective in a way. It provided a swift exit for him and a clear path for her.

No, my pack is far west from here. Her eyes trailed over the broken twigs the boy left behind. Well I guess I can't even call it my pack anymore. I recently left to travel. An unsuspected lump rose in her throat. Being on your own at such a young age was a fascinating thing, but no less frightening. She was so far gone in her journey. If something happened she couldn't run back to her family, they were so far away now. Marilla shook her head and shifted her attention back to Dragomir. So Moonspear, what's it like? How long have you been there?

Dragomir was surprised to hear she didn't have a pack at all, or at least not one nearby. Recently left to travel, she said. He could understand that, even if his departures had never been his choice. His life so far had been two months per pack, then on to the next one ... that was a trend he intended to break now that he was a member of Moonspear.

He was briefly, bewilderingly tempted to lie and say he had been with Moonspear all his life. Wouldn't Marilla be more impressed with him if she knew he was a loyal wolf and a well respected member of his pack? But at his core, Dragomir was no liar, so he opted instead to vaguely say, I've been with them a little while. They're good wolves. Strong and family oriented. And ruthless and imperious, but since he was on their side of things, Dragomir didn't really see it that way.

Why don't you join a pack here? You could come back to Moonspear with me, meet our queen, I'm sure she'd have a place for you. He didn't know what made him offer this to a complete stranger; he only knew that being spoken to and ribbed like an actual adult rather than an unfortunate boy to be pitied made him feel really, really good.

She had no response for him on that and it wasn't long before she took her leave. Dragomir returned to his tracking, unable for a short time to shake her teasing from his mind.