The Sunspire learn what it means to live

All welcome, but this is meant for Scimitar!

In her search for answers, the female had cast herself into isolation.

It was unintended, but apparently necessary. Her family had been large, and though it was difficult for anyone to keep track of, well, anyone. It had been chaotic, living with the rest of the Blackthorn brood. The lack of guidance had made it difficult for her to find her path, and the female had spent most of her youth feeling lost and lonely—despite the fact that there was no such thing as privacy in the Blackthorn's forest.

All she had were her grandfather's stories. He was who she had clung to, for it seemed that he had been the only one to truly pay attention, to truly give those grandchildren that would listen some semblance of life lessons. When he passed, she had made it her mission to make those stories her path; to find the truth of them, and make a life from them.

She had been chasing mysterious figures up into the reaches of the mountains, but she had not come face-to-face with the otherworldly creatures she sought.

The answers will not come that easily, the wind seemed to tell her one day, howling through the caverns that dug into the mountainside, First you must learn what it means to live.

And so she had learned to fend for herself, in a much deeper sense. Things had come easily at home; there was always food to be had, caught by the jaws of others. Living had been effortless. For the last month, the Blackthorn had learned just how difficult it was to live on one's own—physically and mentally.

Now, she was ready to create a haven where no one would ever be lost and forgotten in a sea of faces; where hearts beat together, where life was earned together.

She emerged from the caverns, bright eyes taking in the scenery below, nostrils and tongue tasting the wind. And Muirrin Blackthorn made her way down the mountain, ready to seek those that shared her dreams and visions.

Had the tawny male paid attention to the details of his heritage, it might not have come surprising to him that his love of mountains had perhaps come from his grandmother’s settlement upon Nova Mountain in a land called the Salvajes. Allure DeMonte hadn’t been a creature of grace, but determination and stubbornness had kept her upon those aching heights, and now, despite his birth within a pack that had claimed a forest, Scimitar moved nimbly upon dancing paws – allowing the grace of his lineage to reveal itself in the form of brawny muscles, thick fur and gleaming aqua eyes.


Rapier Frostfur had raised him to be a man of battle – yet at the tender age of two, Scimitar had decidedly left the helm of Dal Riata, seeking a life he could make of his own. Some would call it the DeMonte wanderlust. He would describe it as a much needed change.


So he ascended the mountains upon the beautiful yet slightly crisp autumn day. The wind played with the darkness of his pelt, while ruffling the sparse bits of near ivory. Had he been a true specimen of his ancestors, the warrior would have held a pelt of deep ebony – untainted by the brighter golden hues. Yet his father’s lineage was clearly upon him as well, and in turn, out of his littermates, he appeared the most to look like the man he had never met.


While his paws were quick, the wind that picked up was more so, and the scent of another came to him. He blinked his bright eyes, glancing around the slopes of the mountain as he attempted to decipher the direction of the female that was seemingly very near him. Without hesitation, the Frostfur shifted his direction eastward, his pace quickening before he caught view of the other presence.


Her pelt was agouti in coloration – nothing unremarkable about it, though his eyes briefly met the darker course of fur that trailed the length of her spine. Offering a low bark to command her attention to him, the wolf offered a small smirk before he stopped, leaving the space between them as a buffer, in case she was absolutely insane. “Hey. Sorry for the intrusion, but can you tell me where I am?”

She felt reborn, as if new blood now coursed through her veins—Muirrin had found a direction that her life had been lacking previously, and the joy she felt now that her convictions had been found was a powerful force. From the posture in which she carried herself, to the tips of each individual hair, the female radiated confidence... though it was not marred by arrogance or aggression. Like the heroines of her grandfather's stories, she was ready to seize the passions of life and defend them to the death.

When the scent of another caught in her nose, Muirrin altered her course to greet them. After all, her current mission was to interact with as many wolves as possible and recruit those worthy into her tribe. Fate had decided that this male would be the first candidate, and Muirrin would waste no time in testing him.

It seemed that he was just as eager to meet her, for it wasn't long before the two stood meters apart, both inspecting the other. Muirrin's posture did not relax from its proud stance, but she did offer the male her throat: she meant no harm or challenge. Only then did her golden eyes sweep in scrutiny over his form. Like her own coat, the male's was largely unremarkable—but for a tell-tale marking of ebony. On him, it was a dark mask around bright turquoise eyes.

Oddly, the color reminded Muirrin of her litter mate, and she vaguely wondered how her fiery sister was faring. They had never been close—how could they be, with so many relatives to keep track of?—but the Blackthorn cared for her all the same. It would be a shock to discover that Turq was in the area as well.

"You're not intruding," she assured him with a sweep of her tail, "I don't own this mountain—well, not yet, anyway." Muirrin suddenly felt odd, like she was absently offering too much information, for she hadn't actually spoken to anyone in some time. She made a mental note to be more careful with her words, and then continued. "This range is called the Sunspire Mountains, though I'm not sure what this particular peak is named." She shrugged slightly; for the last month, Muirrin had simply known it as home.

The stranger seemed just as interested in him as he was her – the brightness of her gaze was captivating as her eyes swept across his form, and the male felt his shoulders roll back as he straightened, hoping to look more impressive than he felt at that very moment under the scrutinizing gaze of a female. His charcoal tipped ears rounded forward at her words, his brows lifting slightly to her words. Well, not yet, anyway. The conviction of this statement was impressive, and Scimitar felt an easy grin slide into place upon his broad features as he moved forward a pace or two to close some distance between them.


He did not question her desire to call this place home – he could see why. The slopes of the mountain offered the view of the impressive valley below, his eyes sweeping over the myriad of tree tops that could be seen from here. The air was exhilarating – crisp, fresh. The Frostfur could only imagine what it would be like to wake to such views each day – a welcoming sight to begin any moment of life.


He offered an easy nod to her words, his gaze shifting back to regard her. His own stance remained relaxed, and his tail in turn gave a gentle sweep through the air to reveal his calm demeanor. “Scimitar Frostfur. Pleasure to meet you…?” He trailed off, the aloofness of his nature only stirred by his thirst for socialization. The life of a lone wolf was not ideal.

She watched warily as the male reacted to her slip of words, wondering what the grin and subsequent approach meant—was he going to challenge her for the potential claim? But the expression did not seem wicked or scheming. Muirrin decided to trust her instincts. Anyway, that was what she wanted to build the foundation of her tribe on—trust—and she might as well start now, for better or for worse. So, the flash of suspicion in her features melted away just as quickly as it appeared, and Muirrin returned the grin her eyes welcoming.

As his tail swept through the air, calm radiating from his presence, the female allowed herself to relax further. "My name is Sp—Muirrin," she caught the error, almost giving the male the old and more uncertain version of herself. With more clarity, she told him, "Muirrin Blackthorn."

She thought for a moment, wondering how to steer the conversation. A point-blank, "Tell me about yourself," or something more challenging? Eventually, she decided on the later. Her tone curious and careful, "Tell me, Scimitar, what do you believe in?" Muirrin's golden gaze turned upon him, and though she was internally questioning the wisdom of this approach, there was no doubt she would learn a great deal about the male based on his answer.

Scimitar wasn’t quite sure what emotions swept across her features, for he did not know her well enough to judge. Yet whatever it was, it seemed to melt away, and his cheeky grin was returned with one of her own, though he couldn’t help but wonder how forced it was. The she-wolf didn’t seem put off by his presence (which was unusual, given the distaste the opposite gender usually treated him with) and he was pleasantly surprised by such.

The start of her name was supressed, and she instantly reverted a different direction with her words. Blinking, Scimitar took this as two different possibilities: 1). She had forgotten her name, which was unlikely and ridiculous.. she seemed far more intelligent than that, or 2). She had been prepared to tell him her real name and had suddenly changed her name.. offering him instead a false one. His feelings of elation to how welcoming she seemed were instantly shattered, and Schimitar realized that he was far from the ladies’ man that he had suddenly hoped to be only moments before.

Her next question took him off guard slightly – his simple question seemed to lead her to a more spiritual conversation, and the tawny wolf found himself shifting from one paw to the next, considering this. If he hadn’t learned his lesson before that his aloof approach might not have been the way to win this one over, he didn’t show it, as his shoulders rolled back suspiciously, his eyes flickering over her with amusement. “That’s an awfully personal question for the first few minutes of a meeting.” There was a pause as he felt his chest swell with laughter that he withheld. “Don’t you think you should take me to dinner first?”

It would have been a slight blow to her confidence, had Muirrin known that her tiny slip had caused such a shift in the male's trust. True, they had just met, but it was the female's first experience in practicing the beliefs she had developed in her isolation. As it was, the male's internal thoughts and feelings were a complete mystery to her; and seeing no change in his expression or demeanor, the Blackthorn continued on in their interaction pleasantly.

At her probing question, however, Muirrin did notice a shift in Scimitar's attitude... a mixture of suspicion and amusement. She winced slightly, but quickly relaxed; after all, had the situation been reversed, she would have very likely felt similarly. That sorted out internally, she gave a genuine laugh, ears going back in sheepishness. "Well," she began, "I can see that you're a romantic." Next time, then, she wouldn't be so blunt in her attempts to get to know someone. No harm, no foul... so long as she learned from her blunders.

"I just figured I should find out what sort of wolf you are, before I let you walk all over my mountain—my future mountain," Muirrin offered him a teasing grin. "I'll tell you what I believe in, though, if you're going to be shy. Trust. Community. Hard work. Bonds stronger than family." She raised a brow at him, then, curious to see his reaction... because apparently she was just going to continue to barrel down these tracks like a train. At the very least, she wouldn't be so bold as to tell him about her faith; it was personal, first of all, not to mention that she wanted to avoid him thinking she was completely off her rocker.

Her comment on him being a romantic drew a sardonic snort from the male, his wolfish brows lifting as he studied her with piqued interest. His words had seemingly embarrassed her slightly, or that was how he took it, the moment her ears slid back to her skull. It was endearing in a way, and he listened to her explanation, his bemusement growing. Her to-be mountain, eh?

“I’d say a realist more than a romantic,” he corrected, his tail giving a light sweep through the air. “I don’t believe personal questions belong anywhere in a meeting that has only been five minutes in length,” he spoke, though his tone held a lilting tease to it. She seemed harmless enough, and it would be a lie if he pretended he was not intrigued by this potential pack she hinted toward.

Her words were simple – but effective, as a feeling of longing crept to his chest. Of course he had dispersed from his birth pack to create a new life.. yet he had never envisioned what would be waiting for him when the time came. “I believe in that as well,” he agreed, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “But I believe family is a bond that can never be broken. My family is not with me physically, but they are still here. They have shaped me to who I am today.” And while whoever he chose to bond with now.. they would shape him as well. But they would work from the mould that had been already started.

Muirrin grinned at the male's reaction, glad that he seemed to have a sense of humor—that her blunders of boldness weren't completely destroying her first interaction outside of her isolation. Her grin faded slightly—though did not disappear completely—as the male continued to speak, and for a moment the Blackthorn felt as though she were being a child being scolded. She did her best to keep it from her features, for his tone did carry traces of teasing... but a small burst of insecurity clenched her stomach, and for a brief moment she wished that the earth would swallow her whole.

But that moment of uncomfortableness passed, and Muirrin's expression returned to one of comfort and contentment. He answered her short, inspiring speech—with both agreement and challenge. She remained quiet, considering his counter. Her bonds with family were weak at best, having lost the grandfather that she had been closest to. Next came her litter mates, who had grown together and knew each other (at least in their youth) better than anyone... but beyond that, there had been too many of them to know well, to grow close to.

Despite that, Muirrin found that she had to agree. Whether her bonds with family were firm or nonexistent, they had shaped her into the wolf that now stood before Scimitar. For once, however, the female was at a loss for words—unsure of how to steer the conversation, and not wanting to push the male towards topics that were too personal. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry. I've been alone for a long time."

The she-wolf was silent in what was a now faded discussion – his own musings were unanswered, and he was left to doubt that she had even cared for his opinion on the matter. Blinking his eyes, his gaze remained upon her cheek, his own stance relaxing slightly as he took a more submissive nature now. Her current words caused his lobes to twitch, and with his new acceptance of her superiority on this very land, he hesitated only a moment before giving a small smile. “As have I,” he offered in turn – it was not untrue, but he did not realize how much he minded the solace until now.

“Which leads me to my next question. What does one have to do to remain on your to-be mountain as your subordinate?” Perhaps he could have been more ambitious – demanding a higher rank to help her build this land to legend.. but he did not. Such things came with time and effort, and as young as he was, Schimitar wasn’t always so foolish as to believe things should be handed to him in such a manner. As little as they knew one another, he was hoping to bridge that gap and gain comradeship with a pack once more.

This post is so weird and awkward. *continues to awkward all over the thread* SRY.

Aware as she was of her rusty social skills, Muirrin didn't realize quite how rude she had been in dismissing the male's own musings on the matter without a word. It wasn't so much that she wasn't listening to the male, but was having quite a bit of difficulty attempting to read into the hidden meanings behind his words—it never occurred to her that, perhaps, there was nothing concealed in what he offered her. It was difficult to say where this inherent mistrust came from; perhaps, so used to the shallow nature of her own family, Muirrin thought every other wolf was a deep well of knowledge and emotion to attempt to discover.

When he smiled, evidently accepting her apology, Muirrin returned the gesture. Scimitar seemed pleased enough to respect her authority here with little question, but it did not hinder his confidence in the slightest. It was a combination that pleased the Blackthorn. "Do you know any good stories?" she queried, eyes bright and hungry. "Or perhaps you are more skilled in the hunt," she mused aloud, encouraging the male to describe his strengths.

“None that would interest many,” he determined, a smile just barely touching his inky lips. “Just some of my family heritage.” His mother had been proud of her lineage – something Scimitar in turn shared, but his heritage meant little in the lands he had come to, and in turn, the best he could do was represent his ancestors to the best of his ability and build their legacy here.. hopefully, in these mountains.

“I have strength in hunting, yes,” he began, his eyes regarding the she-wolf with a small pause, steering away from the gold of her eyes. “I also have picked up a thing or two for battle, and hope to continue my training and knowledge of the skill.” It was here where perhaps they would conflict with one another – what values did she have in such matters? Was her pack strictly one of peace, or did they believe in defense where required? He fell silent, wondering how she would judge his words and what fit he would be to the home she was hoping to build.

After gaining entrance within her future ranks, the cinnamon male found comfort in the she-wolf's company, no matter how brief it would be. His new beginning was now, and with that in mind, Scimitar fell to silence, waiting for his orders to follow the tawny lady.