Bearclaw Valley on the nights you feel outnumbered

maybe @Revui ? :o

She had settled in this place, although only because her dark counterpart was here. The black forest was the only place that she had ever lived and it felt in some way as if she was severed from it by becoming part of another pack. She had wandered this way and that, back to the dark forest and away once more. She had not had much contact with other wolves in the meantime, but they meant very little to her; her dark counterpart had sparked joy in the aged soul that her body harboured and her meeting with Powergirl had sparked, well, another sort of joy, she supposed. It had pulled her a little closer to the gravity that the other mortals of this world felt, rather than fully living in the spirits' world.

After regaining some of the strength she had lost when she had wandered the world of the spirits without much taking care of her mortal body, the priest awoke one day feeling more strengthened. She decided that day to revisit the stone she had seen at the pack's entrance that day when she had been reunited with her dark counterpart. The priest moved towards the borders, strides long yet slow and graceful.

One aspect of this landscape he had not returned to, despite the nagging sensation in the back of his molasses-slow mind, was the border. The territory fringe should not have concerned him - and he convinced himself it was not worth investigating - merely because the valley was surrounded on almost all sides with jagged hills, and he presumed the wolves of the lowland were not hardy enough to scale Merrick's ring of fire. Inevitably his study of the terrain would draw him towards the valley's lowest point, and then out — or close enough.

He let himself be drawn to the valley's mouth, telling himself it was smart to double-back and canvas the area again; he hadn't done so since his arrival to the area, and it was wise for a guardian to know the lay of the land. At the back of his mind he heard Hydra's voice commanding him to pick up the pace; some childhood sense-memory returning to him as he hiked. He made a point to slow his pace instead, as if doing so might psychically return some control to Revui which he had been lacking of late.

As the man came upon the strong pack-scent that lined the borders, he stopped. He looked around. For as far as his eyes could see, there was green; some patchy snow, a thin ghost-like figure drifting, clusters of trees — wait. Revui's attention shot back to where the pale thing was roaming and he surged forth after it, not exactly curious so much as territorial; he did not recognize the sharply built woman at all, even as he closed the distance.

She saw a flash of gray and her strides were broken as she watched him close in on her. The priest's body language remained neutral, though in some way her body was held unusually: Definitely not dominant, but neither submissive. Almost casual, in some way, as if none of that mattered much to her. She watched as he approached; she did not recognise him, not right in this moment, for their last meeting had been brief and on much different footing in many ways. The priest waited in silence for his approach, watching as he closed the distance between the two with a much more outspoken body language than she.

When he finally lurched to a stop, he was breathing heavily. Plumes of breath would've wreathed from his nose if the season had been any colder; and he paced, feeling a nagging pinch in his once-broken limb. Once it abated he could focus on the ghost more intently: appraising her, drinking in her presence and the scents she carried. She was vaguely marked as a wolf of Ursus and that stayed his hand - but that did not ease the sense at the back of his mind that somehow, he knew her. That she was familiar. He could not remember his travels to the western valley all that acutely now, nor all of his combative exploits - which was a boon, for if Revui remembered the feud Moonspear held against Blackfeather, he would have skinned her alive.

Something about him struck a chord but she did not know exactly from where and what. It did not matter much to her now. He came to a halt and there was something imposing about him as he came close. Why he chose to approach her in such a manner was beyond her, but there was some interest in that he acted so strongly. The odd ones out were the ones that had always interested the priest the most. Hello, said the priest as she tilted her head and looked at him with her uncanny white eyes, silently inquiring.

Her voice was not familiar. The pale eyes within an equally pallid countenance, that should have struck something in him - but it didn't. He let some of the tension ease from his body and swept around her in a series of steps, lurching, sniffing the air in study of her. She held a scent that was similar enough to Astara; that or she carried the dark woman's smell well. Either way, not a threat. A member of the pack. He finally let the last of his intensity ebb as he discovered all of this.

She was a small thing - not a warrior like himself. What good was she to Ursus? Was her only acceptable quality her possible allegiance to the witch woman? It probably didn't matter in the end. What interests you out here? He questioned, looking around with a sweep of his gaze at the wilderness sprawling around them. The border of any pack claim was dangerous - especially for such small women.

Eventually he eased up, sliding slowly into a calmth. Perhaps it had not been clear to him that she was a part of this pack. It was no surprise to her; she was new and she spent most of her time around her dark counterpart or alone. The world of mortals did not interest her very much, and the only reason she was part of this pack was because Thief willed it so and because the spirits had led her here.

The answer to his question was an easy one. Though the priest was often not one for answering questions directly, she recognised that this one was one who was very rooted in the mortal world. Not unlike Powergirl in some ways. The energy, she said as she gestured her muzzle towards the rock at Bearclaw Valley's entrance. The sacred rock. It might just be a rock to anyone else, but it was important to the spirits and it was certainly important to Thief, that much was clear.

What the -- a rock?

Was that a serious answer?

Revui didn't know if she was kidding or not. The tone of her voice was more serious, but that didn't mean much to him. He often overlooked jokes or failed to read in to someone's intended meaning, and here he was abruptly aware of how odd a statement that could be. It had to be a joke. He didn't find it funny, but he didn't know how to react to it either.

The stone sat at the entrance to the valley, but he'd never taken an interest in it; in fact, Revui had totally missed the fact it stood there to begin with. He looked around to try and determine which rock it was she spoke of, but honestly couldn't figure it out. His face furrowed, feeling foolish. What is important about a rock?

He seemed to be taken aback by her answer. She supposed that not all here recognised the spirits that were housed in this valley. Intriguing. She wondered why Bear had let this one into the pack, but perhaps it was simply because he wanted some brawn. The Woods had had brawn, too, even if most of them were also spiritual in some way. But perhaps it was different here, or perhaps Bear and his spirit did not have enough followers that were all tied to the spirits and he needed to do with this. She did remember running into a wolf or two in the Woods, too, that were unattuned and were frightened by her ghostly appearance back in the days. She revelled in it.

She was used to others being taken aback by her speak of the spirits. She was also used to not really answering questions, though. Do you know of the bear spirits? she asked instead -- a question for a question, as was her way of communicating often. It would show how much explanation was right to be given about the rock; if she chose to.

The conversation veered away from the stone. Revui wasn't smart enough to see the tangential relationship from one thing to the other, and was reeling for a moment. She had said something about spirits — bear spirits? This place was Bearclaw Valleyy and must have held significance for Merrick; but what did spirits have to do with anything? He had never heard them mentioned, except by Kukutux in relation to his own parents... And this thought brought a frown to his face, a tensing to his shoulders.

Explain, he ordered. Or maybe order was the wrong term — yes, Revui was forceful in his expression, but his eyes were curious, and the rest of him confused. He wanted to learn; in part because this knowledge sounded familiar insofar as it related to Kukutux, and he was still letting his attraction to the woman fester. Any information about the spirits of this valley might help him understand her better too.

The crispness of his words did not go unnoticed to the priest. A tone of demand yet there was something more to it as well. She was not entirely sure what it was. Interest, perhaps? She simply smiled; a teasing smile that said she had something that he wanted and she knew it, too. Sounds like a no, she said in response to her own question, that daring smile still on her face. You should try. Listen harder. The energy is stronger at the rock. Perhaps he would understand, although the priest did not count on it.

In her experience, most wolves chose to live ignorant lives. They chose to ignore the spirits' whispers wilfully, while the spirits tried hard to tell them things. Maybe hearing them did not come naturally to all wolves, not like it did to her, but the priest was still certain that it was something that could be learned.

If only they would listen.

Her comments confused him. There was no explanation except a basic command, to listen. Revui scrutinized her a moment longer before turning towards the boulder, striding up to it, and then firmly planting himself on his butt. He sat there with a scrunch to his face as he studied the obelisk; he glanced at the ghost once again, his eyes squinting as he frowned, but he did as she instructed - pivoted his ears, focused. Listened.

After about thirty seconds his ears slanted back. He felt stupid, as if he were being tricked or mocked, and an agitated energy rolled across his shoulders, his hackles trembling. He shifted his weight awkwardly and closed his eyes, trying his best to focus, but... When no sounds immediately came to him, no voice, nothing - he grimaced and rose to his paws again.

I hear nothing! He proclaims, venting his frustration.

He grew frustrated as he tried to listen, and a thin smile danced on her face in amusement. She liked to see wolves writhe and be confused, because it meant that they were learning, however painful it was in the moment. Some wolves never hear, she admitted. It is hard. She did not say this to console him in any way; she said it matter-of-factly, and she meant it that way. It was up to him whether to remain frustrated or do something with that information.

With a somewhat eerie smile she said: But maybe some day, ya? while on of her ears flicked towards the stone as if she was hearing something from it right then.