Hushed Willows Once more, I climbed up to the bones of Moscow.

For @Aphrodite

He happened across willows at the mountain's foot purely by chance that afternoon, and felt himself drawn to them at once. Artyom meandered through, peering above as icicles glistened on flowing branches like chandelier crystals beneath a cold Winter sun. The land was beautiful and he'd never seen one quite like it, whose unusual foliage seemed to emanate an air of tranquility even with the bitter chill of the season.

He was enraptured, lost in the beauty of this serene territory and lulled by the distant lap of ocean waves against the shore. Artyom wondered if Dawn might appreciate a visit when she felt better, before the arrival of their litter, and thought to bring her before the snows thawed.

She was instantly enraptured by the elegance in her surroundings. She had wandered her way here, both naively unaware and somewhat uncaring whether she was on pack lands or not. 
she herself was a beautiful creature, her rust fur standing starkly against the blue, white, and silver of the landscape around herself. So lost in her wonder, was she, that she forgot to be mindful of her paw placement. She stumbled on a tree root, sailed over the top of a rather sizeable snowbank, and landed ungracefully in a heap a few feet away from a strange wolf. Embarrassed, she quickly attempted to right herself, oblivious to the mount of snow matted into the fur on her head. "Uhh. Hi?" 

He'd been (perhaps foolishly) distracted, so missed the footballs of a stranger as she too roamed beneath the willows' crystalline branches. Artyom only took note of her as she came tumbling through snow drifts in his direction, though he managed to escape a collision by scrabbling awkwardly to the side.

The gilded ranger sucked in a breath to sooth his little burst of anxiety, which was quick to subside as the she-wolf pulled herself upright and turned to him with a fumbled greeting. "Hello to you," he answered, amusement in the glimmer of his eye as he glanced to the gathering of snow between his new aacquaintanc's ears. "That was quite an entrance."

She blushed, both from embarrassment and from the general mood of the season. 
"Sorry, I'm not used to snow. I'm not really from around here." 
Still oblivious to her seasonal wardrobe, she batted her eyes, attempting to look presentable. "Um...so. I'm Aphrodite. And you are?" 

"Heh," he laughed, not unkindly, at her comment regarding the snow, "I live for the Wintertime." It was his most beloved time of year; reared in a frozen desert where the land was frozen throughout most of the year, Artyom had been born knowing appreciation for the cold.

She went on to share her name with him, and offered his own with a dip if his pale snout: "I am Artyom." Earthen gaze lifted, and he looked upon her fine features. "You are from nearby?"

She gasped as the cold water soaked through her fur and pawed away the snow on her head. "Winter can eat my tail. Everything is cold, wet, or dead. I much prefer summer. Warm, plenty of food and toys..." 
At the mention of his name she smiled, but his question made it immediately fade. Where was home, exactly? "I...I don't know exactly. I remember a lot of strange things that don't make sense...and then I just wandered here for what felt like forever." 

So she definitely wasn't a fan of the cold season, something Artyom held dear. He did not take her dislike personally and instead shrugged it aside, made a stride away and invited his newest acquaintance along with a cant of his ivory muzzle. It would do them no good to stand around in the snow and risk frostbitten toes.

"That is unfortunate," the ranger said, expression softened tone of concern. Artyom had never met a wolf who'd lost their memories, and at once felt sympathy for her. To lose one's memory meant to lose one's self, and he hated the idea of Ana's memory fading with him. "Do you... have someplace to stay in the meantime?" He figured Dawn would not mind another body to pad their ranks, and so contemplated opening an invitation to Whitebark if Aphrodite required it.

She shook her head. Something was urging her to keep moving. Something was calling her southward, a destiny she needed to meet. "Im not lost, I just dont know where I am. I know I'm supposed to be going south. I can feel it inside me."

Her words made him think of migratory birds, and how they simply knew that their home was meant to differ with the seasons. Artyom remembered his puphood, his mother's tales - one of which involved a young goose unfortunately separated from his family in a storm. They carried on their flight without him, but determination and an unusual, built-in homing device reunited him with relatives who welcomed him warmly. A happy ending.

He simply looked Aphrodite's way as she shared with him that she knew the direction, but could not tell him the exact place. Artyom figured this could be an example of truth to the saying: not all those who wander are lost.

"I hope you find what you are looking for," he said with warmth in his eyes, then glanced ahead to sweep the willow branches with his gaze. "We could make a place for you in Whitebark, if you wanted. At the very least until you find that place you belong."

His words brought her some comfort. Nomatter her misadventures, she had an offering of a home. "I would like that...if it's not too much bother. I'm sorry I'm a clumbsy hunter, and fighting is messy...but I can patrol, and learn healing."  
Her gaze fell warmly on him, waiting for him to take the lead. Who knows, perhaps she would never leave.