Dragoncrest Cliffs this battleground is deadly

the breeze is sticky with seabrine despite the fat snowflakes that drift lazily down from the opaque mid-morning sky. the air is heavy with the tang of salt that makes unatak's lips curl in what can only be described as distaste. below the drop off the cliffs the sea swell rages against the rockface, crashing and falling back like an endless war assault. he misses the dry, arid air, the bitter scent of evergreens, the sweet taste of maple and honeysuckle. he misses home, misses the sound of the wildboars as they moved in their droves and sounders to hunt and chase off unsuspecting loners that passed into razorback plains' claim.

overhead he hears the call of gulls as they fight the winter squall, sailing on the air currents but not appearing to actually gain any ground. the sound of the sea drowns out much and unatak veers away from the cliffside then, seeking what lay in the heart of the territory; likely, though, he knows he'll be going further inland yet. he isn't particularly moved by the coast and wants to go towards the heartlands where territories may be more familiar and closer to what he's left behind.

The coast seemed barren, something that Strand had not been expecting upon her return to this place. She had left many months ago, angry at the lack of followers for her pack, angry that Padma had gone and gotten herself injured, angry at… everything. Now, here she was, wandering the coastline and the cliffs above it, wondering at the destruction she witnessed here and there. Signs of some kind of natural disaster. It didn’t surprise her. The sea was a monster who had once swallowed her; of course it would want to swallow others. She wondered how many had died or lost their memory like her. 

She looked up from her reverie and saw a man standing at the edge of the cliffs, staring out to sea. He was dark, almost the opposite of her. She stared at him for a time, from a distance. Her voice was hoarse from disuse, probably, and she was loathe to start using it again. But her old anger, a constant that had raged quietly in the back of her head, came roaring to the forefront of her mind once again. This coast was hers. All of it. “Oi!” she barked, and then cleared her throat loudly, an ugly sound. “Who’re you?” she demanded, once the phlegm was gone.

oi! a voice calls followed as it was by an ugly sound that makes unatak wonder if she's ill. who're you?; a demand. almost as if she thought this territory belonged to her.

unatak swings his head to face her, fiery gaze studying her for a few moments. habitually, he doesn't like having things demanded of him — a clear pitfall of how he's grown up and lived his life prior to his leaving. nevertheless, he isn't looking to get into some kinda fight over this stupid, salty territory. it clearly wasn't worth that to him. ❝just a traveller, miss,❞ unatak speaks in an effort to defuse any hostility that she might be feeling towards him.

❝i'm not stickin' around.❞ he assures her in case that was what she was thinking he was doing; but his progression to somewhere more inland might take a while. he's tired and he's been traveling for a long while now and while he isn't fond of this place ( at all ) he does desire a bit of rest.

Sorry Strand’s a dick lmao

A traveller. Strand’s eyes narrowed at such an answer. A non-answer, really. And the fact that he wasn’t sticking around didn’t mean anything to her right now. Normally that would have cooled off her temper a little, but the fact that he had not given his name had only pissed her off more. “I said who are you,” she repeated, her voice now deadly. “Not what.” She stepped toward him with purpose, threateningly. “What’s your name, traveller?” She stood tall, chest puffed out, tail pulled up over her back, ears erect and forward. All the signs of alpha in an aggressive stance. She did not bare her teeth, but would if this male didn’t show her the respect she deserved.