Honeyed Pasture like you've never felt the ground before
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#1

Renard had forged their way through meadow upon meadow of grass in the last few days, and while they were very much prepared to complain about it getting old -- a fondness of theirs -- they had seen plenty other than prairie.

And complain as they might, at least it could be useful here. There were few things like long grass for disguise, few things beyond the shadows of a forest or the onset of dusk. This time they were not staring at bison too large to take down, or fields of flowers that tickled the nose. The grass was still too-long, but now that was all for good. The banks sloped softly down to the stream below and in the middle of the stream, blissfully unaware of the predator crouching just downwind, was a beaver and a half-completed dam. A fine opportunity for a meal, as long as Renard could be patient.

Renard was good at being patient.

In the river's shallows, the animal was still half-submerged under its dam and they knew from experience it was more frustrating than worthwhile to pull the things apart. All they needed to do was wait for it to stray far enough away, maybe back to the trees for more building material, and move just so, not rustle the grass or the reeds...

They were getting ahead of themselves. Just wait. Quiet. They could do quiet.

Good was perhaps relative.


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#2
Ever since finding her uncle here, she had made more of a point to check on the area every so often. She had been exploring a lot more lately, and she wasn't sure why exactly. She had plenty to do at home, and she liked having all the responsibility, so she knew it wasn't boredom. She was more inclined to believe that it was her searching for ways to forget about the journey she needed to make, and how scared she actually was to return home. So instead of dwelling on her fears, she often patrolled the territories around the forest, searching for strangers to meet or prey to try and catch and bring home for the pack. 

The wind brought an interesting scent with it as she moved through the grass. The day was too warm, and the sun heated her thick coat to an uncomfortable temperature. She had been searching for the stream to throw herself into, but now that she had picked up on a stranger, she decided to investigate that instead. 

When she found the unknown wolf, her gaze was instantly drawn the way the stranger's tail rested along his back; she had only seen one other tail like that, and instantly, she was intrigued. She followed his gaze down to the water and saw the object of his watching. She didn't want to scare the animal away, so she released a low chuff and stopped a respectful distance away to await his invitation to join his stalking.
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#3
The beaver plunged back beneath the water. Renard watched it go, and sighed. As softly as they could make it, but still a sigh. Just for them. Some prey really did drag things out.

With the animal gone for the time being, Renard shifted, made themselves more comfortable on the grassy bank. The idea of just plunging straight into the water was growing more appealing even if it did involve picking branches apart. It would still be frustrating but it would also not be this hot. Either the beaver would run or it would wait there as Renard tore apart its shelter piece by piece -- in this scenario Renard was assuming they were more competent at it than they had been last, shh -- and then someone chuffed politely behind them.

At least they could tell the wolfdog was busy. Which made their thoughts of such an arrival considerably more positive, even though there was a meal in play.

They angled an ear to the sound, turning their head just enough to catch a glimpse of snowy white fur and a brief impression of size. They seemed canine shaped. Good enough. Renard gave a low chuff of their own as invitation -- company could be fun, why not --- and returned their eyes to the dam where the beaver, down in the water, slid free of the tangled branches and slid soundlessly out into the middle of the stream.
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#4
At his invitation, Simmik silently padded forward and settle in the grass next to him. She looked him over and then followed his gaze back down to the water. It was obvious what he was doing, and on a cooler day, she might have entertained all of this and offered to help him catch the creature. But today, she wasn't really in the mood for a drawn out hunt. She yawned—an obvious sign of her boredom. Her eyes watched the creature for only a few more moments before she looked back to the stranger. She studied him with her usual suspicion, saying nothing at first. But eventually she got bored of that too. She lifted an eyebrow in invitation. Want to go swimming? she asked quietly, still playing into his whole hunting thing in case he didn't actually want to go swimming; in which case, she might leave in search of another way to cool off—or she might still stay and help; it was too soon to tell.
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#5
rolled a quick 1d2 on discord for success in hunting so feel free to PP this beaver also if you wish!

Renard held themselves there, watching the beaver float by, as the stranger crept to their side. Waiting a few moments more as it swum in lazy circles, just so they would have enough time to catch it before it returned to its dam and ruined all the time they'd spent waiting around for it to stop --

The woman yawned.

Renard's ear twitched. They squinted at her for a moment, while the beaver grew nearer to the dam and then farther away as if taunting them, and then looked back out at the water. All that talk about patience, and yet,

Then she spoke. Renard's ears snapped back. At least it was quiet, and the beaver didn't seem to notice.

"I'm sure there's plenty more river for you to --" Renard said, quite rudely, in a whisper, at which point the beaver passed the point on the bank where they were both crouching and, rather more on impulse than actual deliberation, they uncurled from their position and bolted down the slope and into the river, sending a (pleasantly cool) cascade of water into the air.


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#6
my roll was unsuccessful, sorry renard LOL you get bratty and unhelpful today


Her question was met with rudeness, which had her trying to stifle a smirk as she looked away. Okay, so he was serious about hunting this thing; she could respect that she supposed. 

Before she could really force herself to focus, though, the stranger was gone, sliding down the bank after the weird animal, who had already passed by them while he was busy being rude about her simple question. But she had already decided to help him, so she hurried into the water after them, trying to swim up and cut the animal off before it could go any farther. She only managed to scare it more and cause it to swim even faster. 

And that was about all the patience she had for that today. She turned and swam back a little ways, finding somewhere shallow enough that she could sit but deep enough that the water still covered most of her body. Once she was settled, she returned her attention to the stranger to see how he was faring.
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#7
it is a fun game we play with the dice indeed 8D

There would be time for Renard to consider just how rude they had been later; for now they had put thought of that aside. Hunting in a stream was and could never be an elegant affair, but now above all times it proved itself rather comical as their jaws snapped shut on nothing but empty water. The beaver turned and, faster than Renard would ever have thought possible for such a silly looking creature, bolted at high speed up the stream, the broad tail dragging a long wake of white behind it.

The wolfdog snorted water from their nose as they moved to scramble back onto the bank, shaggy coat already dripping. Considering it made up a decent proportion of their size, they looked like nothing so much as a very large and very wet rat, their curly tail plastered to their back as they did their best to charge through the water.

Just ahead, a blurry white figure slid into the stream just ahead of the furiously-paddling beaver. Its body disappeared under the water as it veered hard to the side and around, leaving the woman behind; before Renard could tell if she indeed intended to go after it they were past, ignoring the urge to stop and shake off their waterlogged pelt.

The beaver was fast, for a beaver, but unfortunately for it that meant nothing to a wolf on land, even a wolf weighed down by what felt like half the river’s worth of water. Renard drew just ahead of it, and plunged back in with jaws open, and this time when they snapped down blood pooled out over their tongue.

It shrieked. Renard tightened the grip they had, and hauled it bodily out of the water and onto the bank, where it did its best to regain its footing until, keeping carefully out of range of any potential bite, the wolfdog got their teeth into its neck, and it shuddered, and went still.

Nose wrinkling, Renard pulled back and shook themselves out with a furious noise of wet fur slapping against itself and then, ever so slightly less damp, looked back upriver, where the woman was sitting half-submerged in the water and watching them with a look that Renard was much too far away to interpret, and. Right.

Scooping up the beaver in their jaws, they moved rather sheepishly up the bankside and dropped it at the very edge of the water, near both the other wolf and the newly-abandoned dam.

“Sorry,” they said. “That was rude of me. I’d just rather not let it get away after all that waiting.”

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#8
The stranger did not seem as willing to give up on the hunt as she was, which was fine with her; it was something entertaining to watch, and that was exactly what she did. She let the water cool her fur as her fiery gaze tracked his movement. He was out of the river, shaking out is thick, dark coat, and she leaned forward to watch him run a little up stream where the creature now was. She had scared it a good distance, but on land, the stranger was able to catch up quickly. 

When he had managed to get back in front of the prey, he jumped back into the water. From then, it was over pretty quickly. There was a small struggle as the other wolf pulled the thing from the water and onto the riverbank. The creature tried to break free even then, but then its struggle was over with one efficient bite to its neck. She watched the stranger shake his fur out and when he met her gaze she only stared back but this time there was interest and approval in her expression. 

He then brought his kill over to where she sat in the water, uttering an apology to her as he set the creature down. She shrugged. It's fine; it's not like my feelings are hurt or anything. She interrupted his hunting; she might have been testy in that situation too. She lifted an eyebrow. Nice job, she offered, tilting her nose to his prize so he would know what she meant. She stood then and moved from the water, shaking out her snowy coat as she added: I'm Simmik, by the way. She took a seat in front of him and waited for him to offer his name in return.
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#9
Politeness was not something Renard had been taught, quite the opposite in fact, but out here in the big wide world they did have eyes and an ability to learn and it became quickly apparent being an ass was not the way to do anything besides give yourself a nasty reputation. Renard liked their reputation being clean, thank you very much. If there was anything to be gained by making enemies with everyone you came across and then everyone they came across, they were yet to have heard it.

So it was nice to keep all the conversations pleasant and free of any snippiness. And it was also nice that – well, the majority of those they had come across since entering the Teekons was of the same opinion. Or maybe it was just their sparkling personality winning everyone over.

Right.

“Well, thank you,” they returned. “Renard. I’m new to…” they glanced off to the left, where the peaks of some range they had neglected to ask the name of rose in a long line from the coast, “this side of the mountains. Here in general, you could say.” A pause. “I don’t suppose you’ve been here longer?”

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She dipped her head in response to his greeting, her gaze following his to the mountains. Then she shrugged a bit. I was born in the mountains, she told him. So, I've been around for my whole life. She paused again, raising an eyebrow at him again. I guess it depends on how long you've been here. She wasn't that old, so if he had been here long than a year, then her answer would be no. But regardless, she could probably give him some information; she knew this valley pretty well, and she could tell him some things about the mountains too. Are you looking for someone or some place in particular? she asked next. She was willing to help him out; his rudeness had made things more interesting, so she definitely wasn't holding it against him.
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#11
“You have an edge on me, then,” Renard admitted, settling back down on their haunches. The beaver had stopped bleed sluggishly onto the bank by now – it wasn’t going anywhere, they could wait for their meal. “It’s been…” they huffed a bit of a laugh, “maybe a week?”

Though a lot had happened in a week.

“Well, this far...I’ve been told,” Renard started, “about what’s possibly a few cannibals on the loose, and probably met one of them," they snorted, "two wolves attacking anyone who passes by, and of one pack. Sagtannet?” The name still felt unfamiliar on their tongue. The loop they were walking was, in fact, meant to take them down there eventually. But it seemed like a good idea to learn a bit of the others in the area first. Not to mention the land. They might have known it like the back of their hand at home; this was all still alien, beyond the range they kept in their sight to follow. “They did give me directions for that. Not much about other packs, though. I wondered if you might know more.”

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#12
He hadn't been here very long; a week wasn't much time at all to really learn much. But it did seem that he had met someone who told him of a pack in the mountains called Sagtannet. She was unfamiliar with the name, though, but that wasn't saying much; she really only knew of her family's pack and of the the packs in the valley where she lived now. But the other information he offered was alarming; she definitely needed to hear more. Cannibals? Wolves attacking unprovoked? she asked first. Are they close to where we are now? Maybe he knew more information about them. It was was important that she find out and report what she learned back to Mal. Maybe these were the same wolves he was concerned about. 

As for packs in the mountains, she didn't know much unfortunately. The only pack I know of in the mountains is my family's pack, Simmik told him. They are called Diaspora and they reside in the hollow in the southern part of the mountains. She shrugged a bit. I have never heard of Sagtannet, but then I also haven't been back to the mountains since the beginning of winter, so a lot could have changed since then. Of course, she was planning on returning soon to deal with family stuff, but she wasn't really interested in thinking much about that right now.
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#13
In the blur of travel and interactions since the details had become slightly hazy, so it took a few long seconds for them to put together anything coherent in reply. The problem, reflecting on it, was that she hadn’t had many details to offer. Not that they’d exactly pressed for them. Renard had not been particularly concerned about roving cannibals, but after their recent spars they were questioning that approach.

“Unfortunately,” Renard sighed, “I can’t tell you much. She only mentioned cannibals on the loose, and some former packmates being attacked. Possible it might have just been bad blood, I suppose.” They gestured with their muzzle back towards the mountains. “I do think I ran into one of the cannibals myself. She was much further north than this, but planning to go inland to, ah,” with some sarcasm, reform her empire.” They shook their head. “Not sure how successful that will be, but you might want to keep an eye out. Seemed like the more…unhinged flavor of cannibal.”

If, indeed, there was any other flavor. Renard was starting to doubt this, personally.

The wolfdog acknowledged the rest of her response with a dip of the muzzle. “Interesting. I was told it was only Sagtannet in the mountains, at the very end of the range. Well, them and another pack in the vale, whose name she didn't have.” They shrugged. “I haven’t visited at all, of course.”

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She listened intently as he offered more information on the troubling wolves, nodding when he suggested she keep an eye out. I will, she replied, still a little lost in her own thoughts. She would need to tell Mal about all of this, plus it made her a little more worried about her planned solo trip to the mountains to visit her family. It wouldn't stop her from going, but she would need to be more careful. Thanks for the warning, she offered after a few second's pause. 

His next words were not immediately concerning; she chalked it up to this other wolf just being misinformed. Maybe she just didn't come across them in her travels, Simmik countered. They could also be the pack in the vale that she didn't know; they liked to move around. But she did have to wonder if something had happened to Diaspora. If this woman had come across Sagtannet and claimed it to be at the very end of the range, then she should have also come across Diaspora in the hollow. Unless they moved, like she had suggested to Renard. Maybe that was just the case, which made her worry about how easy it would be to find her family. It all just made her realize how much she needed to take her trip and figure it out for herself.
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#15
Renard nodded. They might not have been the most upstanding wolf, as far as things went, but the warning was half…what…out of the goodness of their heart. The other half was more irritation. Of course, they would be a hypocrite to critique fighting dirty, but the purpose of a spar was not ripping throats out.

“That may be the case.” They weren’t exactly invested in being right about this; the extent of what they’ve learned about these wilds isn’t a lot, and they wouldn’t bother to claim it was. “You would know better than me. I haven’t picked up anything since.” They shrugged, smiling faintly. “Just the extent of what I know.”

“You say you know of nobody else in the mountains,” Renard continued. “Anyone around here?” They gestured vaguely with their muzzle to the fields around them. Well, that was the original aim of their questioning anyways.


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#16
sorry for the wait


His words did little to ease her now surging anxiety over the matter. It all just meant she needed to stop avoiding things and pay her family a visit, at the very least to make sure they were still there. 

His next question was the perfect way to change the subject, which she was thankful for, even if he didn't realize her internal fretting over the mountain packs. She nodded. My pack is nearby—just south of here, she told him first. Neverwinter Forest. Then she paused a second before offering: And Moonspear is in the other mountain range over there. Simmik tilted her head in the direction of the pack and their mountains. They're not always the most friendly, so be cautious if you run into any of them. She thought a minute. And in the southern part of the valley is The Nightwalkers, she added. Stay away from them if you can; they're dangerous according to my Alpha. Better he know now before he find himself in a bad situation. And on the coast, north of here, there a pack called Yuèlóng. She thought for a few more minutes and then shrugged. That's all I know about. Still, she hoped it would all be helpful to him in his travels. 

Have you heard of any packs around here that I didn't mention? she asked after a beat; that would be helpful for her to know.
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#17
sorry for mine! D:

Renard was, indeed, unaware of most of her concern about the mountains. Even if they had been, it would not have meant much – it was not their family, after all, and they didn’t belong to Sagtannet as of yet. Renard wasn’t in the business of paying strangers much mind.

They followed her gestures as she spoke – Neverwinter Forest, Moonspear, the Nightwalkers – Yuèlóng gave them a moment of pause, though considering Sagtannet, names in a different tongue were par for the course. And they had no leg to stand on, considering their origins.

“Thank you,” Renard said, inclining their head. “Afraid I don’t know of anyone besides Sagtannet, though. Even on the other side of the mountains, I haven’t been here for long.” Their lip quirked. “Unless that cannibal has found herself some followers.”