Frogspawn Swamp a grin made for war

@Arcturus! only if you want/have time left it aw just in case. vague-ish due to not being sure how her thread w/opalia will go.

the swamp is thick with sticky humidity that causes the fur at her nape to curl. it smells like decay, and briny algae that clings to the murky water like green goop. praimfaya's scarring nose wrinkles with distaste, frostbound gaze squinting against the thick fog that hangs over the swamp like a curtain refusing to part. she can see vague shadows ahead of her: dead tree sticking out of the swamp waters that slosh in time to the symphony of the chirp of crickets and croaking of frogs. the swamp bottom is thick with sucking mud and praimfaya struggles a bit more than she'd like to admit; far too proud. her wounds are still healing and she has gotten turned around, finding the unfamiliar territory cloaked in fog disorienting.

*crashes*

Meerkat loved her mother and did not mean to deliberately disobey her. But when she smelled something strange on the wind and it led her beyond the copse's borders, she breached them after a brief hesitation. The trees gave way to grass, which in turn softened into muck. She found herself standing at the edge of a swamp, drinking in all the strange scents but never losing track of the one which had compelled her this far: blood.

-"Hellooo?"- she called into the dingy air, signing along as always before abruptly realizing there was no one around to see the motions; she'd only recently become truly cognizant of the separation of the verbal and sign languages. Meerkat eyed the soupy ground underfoot and bent to sniff it. The odor was extraordinarily pungent, a little like a fart. She grinned and huffed a laugh at the thought, straightening and taking her first step into the marshland with another, "Hellooooo?"

with the thick and oppressive fog that writhed and lay over the swamp and the muck that she sludges thru ...praimfaya does not expect for anyone to call out. least of all a voice with the tell-tale tones of a cub. unexpected as it is, praimfaya at first considers it as nothing more than a figment of her imagination ran rampant in the territory that in it's present state looks like it came out of some fairytale as the witch's dwelling.

...and then something makes praimfaya give pause; 'what if' looming over her head like the gleam of a guillotines' sharpened blade. what if the voice wasn't a figment of her imagination? what if there really was a cub wandering thru the swamp? what if they're lost? hei! before she can stop herself, the trigedasleng greeting is slipping out from betwixt her lips; carrying through the fog and over the symphony of frogs.

her steps follow the decision soon after, course altering as she seeks to make contact with the cub hoping that she wasn't imagining the voice or that she would not find herself at the sharp edge of a warpath mother.

When a voice shouted, "Hey!" from somewhere deeper in the murky swamp, Meerkat paused. Her nose and good ear twitched in unison as she tried to pinpoint the source of the call, though it was difficult to gauge anything in these unseemly conditions. She couldn't help but think of how much Alyx would hate this place, a smile twitching her lips even as she kept going deeper into the bog.

Eventually, she spotted a pale figure up ahead. She hastened toward it, though before she reached the other wolf, Meerkat came to a sudden stop and looked down at her feet. They were sinking in several inches of smelly muck, the suction making it difficult for her to proceed. She blinked a few times, then glanced upward, toward the unfamiliar she-wolf with her hoary fur and scars.

Perhaps Meerkat should've been frightened, partly trapped in swamp slime just yards from a very intimidating stranger. But instead, the pup only waved her tail and yanked her feet from the sludge with a loud squelching noise. Giggling now, she lurched closer to the woman, finally coming to a stop on a patch of moss a few feet away and redirecting her full attention upon the stranger.

"Hi," she offered, then gasped a little. "What happened to you?" she wondered, eyes widening with morbid curiosity.

no warpath mother appears, no stirrings in the swamp besides the squelch of her and the child's own paws in the muck and the occasional plop of a frog as it shifts position. though the question of 'what're you doing out here by yourself' dances chidingly upon praimfaya's tongue, born of some dormant maternal instincts that sigh to life as her frostbound gaze falls upon the girl; she bites it back. the girl, though parts of her pelage is covered in muck ( as is praimfaya's own ) is a myriad of soft golds and creams ...and utterly unafraid as praimfaya watches her seek refuge in a patch of moss and blatantly ask about her scars. a soft laugh churrs in the wanheda's throat.

the girl is young — how young praimfaya cannot accurately judge — but young enough that the commander doesn't want to be entirely truthful about the origins of her scars. i fought a dragon. praimfaya says leaning forward, voice lulling into a hush as if she was divulging some big secret. and these — she gestures to the killmarks on her left shoulder. are how many dragons i've fought. she shifts back then, careful to keep distance just in case a parent or guardian does come forth from the foggy muck.

pretty cool, right?

Meerkat had been raised to appreciate a good story, though she had reached an age where she could largely separate fact from fiction. The instant the stranger mentioned dragons, her face broke into a toothy grin, her eyes bright and rapt. Her tail stirred when the she-wolf gestured to a score of slashes on her shoulder, which apparently indicated how many dragons she'd battled.

"Sooooo cool!" the youth agreed, quite happy to play along even if she was fairly certain dragons weren't real. Stories were entertaining and sometimes even educational! "Did you kill them all?!" Meerkat wondered, her good ear twitching at the high-pitched whine of a mosquito hovering there.

arcturus had largely stayed in the confines of the copse, but today he followed the scent of meerkat. he was perplexed -- how had she managed to slip by, and why was so so far from home?

a sliver of his heart belonged to the girl - he had never forgotten his tryst with towhee, and a part of him believed he owed meerkat something more than his simple presence. trailing after her, arcturus' steps slowed as her scent was joined with another.

praimfaya.

his steps quickened; he thought of dragomir and how he had mentioned the girl had left the spear. like him, she was likely unwelcome to return -- and like him, she was another piece of his old life he had to make right.

he missed the riveting details of dragons and monsters, but his eyes did not miss the new marks borne across praimfaya's pelt, nor the onset of age around her shoulders that had not been there before. stepping silently to meerkat's size, arcturus beheld both with warmth radiating in his gaze, awaiting the continuation of the story before he spoke.

the girl, whether she believes the tall tale of battling dragons or not, replies with enthusiasm that lifts praimfaya's soft smile. yeah, it was cool. she murmurs, just for the sake of it though there was nothing remotely cool about the conclave or nearly losing her life because of some crazy bitch who thought she owned the ravensblood. but, y'know, that was what made sagas enthralling: they often stretched the truth whether for fame or to protect young ears. almost. see these fresh scars? this one got away from me. praimfaya admits. if i see it again it won't be so lucky. she grins then, toothily; though the vow remains true at it's core.

the sound of approaching footfalls, heavy and belonging to an adult draws praimfaya to attention. she is hesitant, frostbound gaze splicing thru the fog in the direction of the emerging shadow unsure whether her position should be defensive to protect herself or the cub. surprise melts away the soft prickle of her hackles as arcturus?! bursts from betwixt her lips.

there is no use in hiding her shock at seeing him and at the fact that his scents do not smell like that of moonspear's ...but like the pack scents she can detect thru the muck on the cub's pelage. the warmth in the once beta of the spire is warm as it touches upon both meerkat and her — praimfaya, despite herself, feels her cheeks warm before she diverts her cool gaze to the cub. i'm praimfaya, by the way. but you can call me pri. she introduces before her gaze returns to arcturus. you're not with moonspear? she asks, hoping as it lingers between them that she didn't just ask the motherlode of insensitive questions.

Praimaya indicated her freshest scars and Meerkat inched toward her to get a closer look. As she was studying the fascinating way the torn flesh had mended, she heard someone else approaching. She glanced over her shoulder and shouted, "Hey, dad!" in the heartbeat before she realized it wasn't Phox but Arcturus. Meerkat felt her cheeks warm a little at the mistaken identity but she recovered quickly, grin a little sheepish. "Oh, I thought you were my dad! Hi!"

Come to think of it, maybe it was a good thing it wasn't her dad. He might be mad at her for leaving the copse. And Towhee was probably going to throw her into the sun. Meerkat nibbled at her lip, though she was distracted by the evident familiarity between the she-wolf—who was called Praimfaya, Pri for short—and her swarthy pack mate. Her brows lifted, awfully curious about the exchange, a surprised little huff escaping her when Pri mentioned Moonspear.

"That's where Hydra lives!" she shared with the class. "We're gonna go visit her soon!"

arcturus' ears pricked as the story between the two finished. praimfaya divulged an escapee -- arcturus did not dare ruin the story with his own insights on whether or not dragons were real.

if ever there was a dragon to walk this earth, he surmised it was black of pelt and walked the spear.

the warmth of his gaze and the slow sway of his tail was stolen from him as praimfaya's question washed over him, followed by meerkat's mis-identification of him. his head lowered and a flinty aspect overcame him.

"hi, meerkat." arcturus returned, choosing to tackle the dragon in the room head-on. he could not help the flinch of tension that settled in his shoulders as meerkat mentioned they were planning on visiting the 'spear. he would certainly not be involved (thank whatever dragons may be). "no, i am in firebirds copse now. dragomir was looking for you - have you returned to the spear yet?"

wait... dad?!

praimfaya's eyebrows rise as she falters, the word lingering on her tongue begging her to ask, before meerkat corrects herself, informing arcturus of mistaken identity; all of which is followed by arcturus greeting the cub as 'meerkat'. her name, praimfaya is left to assume. a strange name ...but probably better than 'praimfaya' which literally translates to 'face melting death' from trigedasleng to common.

praimfaya's gaze and attention drifts back to arcturus as he admits that he's at firebird's copse now, instead of moonspear. apparently, there was much she missed while she took flight to crogeda while trying to deal with dacio's death. in some ways, she blames moonspear for it ...if only because she lacked anyone to blame for blodreina and ingram's own. dacio had been alive and then he hadn't ...all on their watch. in this, as his quasi-commander, she feels she has failed him.

he was? this surprises praimfaya because she hadn't ever been real close to dragomir despite that he and isi had been the driving force behind her searches after verx's death. of whom moonspear had hid from her. no, praimfaya hesitates and draws in a breath. i doubt i'd be welcomed back even if i wanted to go back. my stay there had never been meant to be permanent anyway. dacio's death ...just sped along the process.

of course, praimfaya doesn't argue that she could've been better about letting them know but she was the commander for whatever it was worth and wasn't really accustomed to explaining herself.

wanheda peers down at meerkat, considering her words of visiting hydra and moonspear but does not comment, knowing that it has nothing to do with her and thus is not her place to comment.

Neither one of them appeared particularly interested in this bit of news. Meerkat gave a little huff, though it wasn't in her nature to get bent out of shape about things. Anyway, the back-and-forth between them was much more fascinating. There was mention of someone named Dragomir, then somebody by the name of Dacio, who had apparently met his end.

She sucked in a breath at this, a dozen questions cropping up in her young mind. How had he died? Was he really gone forever? Did his family miss him? Meerkat's mouth opened to ask when she heard the unmistakable bray of an angry Towhee shouting her name, her full name.

"I better get back," Meerkat said, voice only a little less chipper than usual. Hopefully she could butter up her mother somehow. Maybe mentioning Arcturus would lessen the Regent's wrath. "See you, Arc 'n' Pri!" She waved a paw, then turned and scurried as fast as she could through the muck, back in the direction of the copse.

arcturus could sense all those bubbling questions rolling off of meerkat like a tidal wave, but before she could get a word in, he heard towhee's call punctuate shortly after praimfaya's explanation.

that she was surprised dragomir was looking for her thorned arcturus ever so slightly -- not in any way her fault, but she had inadvertently assumed moonspear was not family. they had all been family, once, and he understood the boy's dedication. "he was worried - the spear was worried." arcturus dipped his head as meerkat sped along, feeling his own presence was likely needed to guide her back.

there was a story here on both sides, his own and praimfaya's -- that was just begging for more information.. but time was short. "i should follow her back. if you know where the copse is, you would be welcome there." he straightened himself out, feeling sorry their meeting might end so soon. "are you well?" she looked more adult now than ever, but arcturus thought he sensed an imperceptible and enormously costly sadness in that silver gaze that had not been there before.

see you. praimfaya returns the child's departing words, a bit slowly, unable to help the nervous tail flick against her hocks as the sound of the mother's call echoed in her eardrums. her frostbound gaze turns back to arcturus as he informs her that dragomir, that moonspear was worried about her. guilt nibbles at her heart but she pushes it down. guilt was no use to her now. what was done was done. it appears that with the summoning of meerkat back home that their meeting was destined to be cut short. arcturus tells her that if she knows where the copse is — she nods for she's scented them — that she'd be welcomed.

i'll stop by someday soon. she promises.

his inquiry draws a soft furrow of her brow and a small cant of her head to the side. i'm well. she replies with a soft smile, hoping to reassure him with what she assumes is the truth. she's dealt with a lot of death in her young life and though each death has marked her in it's own way she remains the commander of death and does what she does best: keeps marching on.

it was nice to see you again. she tells him earnestly before she turns and goes back the way she came figuring it was time to return to her home on the spire.

distracted by meerkat's departure, arcturus owed praimfaya far more attention than she was presently getting. he kept an ear turned towards her, happy she was well but torn she had gone down a different path.. just like him.

he could not fault her for it. perhaps they were both cut from a similar cloth in that way. "stay well," he replied, a hint of playful command in his voice -- "and i expect you to follow up on that promise. i will see you soon, pri."

with a dip of his head in regretful farewell, arcturus turned and trotted after meerkat to escort her back home.