Swiftcurrent Creek put your dreams away for now
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#1
All Welcome 
dated to the 15th :)
she's not been back here since her first litter's disappearance. the creek is a haunted place, quiet and empty. she'd told @Artyom that she would be back before nightfall, and @Daylily had agreed to help with the children (and ensure that Juniper would not try following her again, though she was beginning to think she'd learned her lesson with the threat of being grounded to the rendezvous). 

the gentle birdsong here does not seem fitting. this had been kavik's domain, once, the setting of her first failed family. her paws drew her to that den she'd shared with stone and brook. her throat grows dry as she nears, something too large to fit lodged in her chest. she noses over the vegetation that's bloomed around the den in its abandonment, remembering a family imperfect and lost. 

she withdraws, shifting to face the mountains. it's selfish of her, to get caught up in the past and her own mistakes when one of their own is missing, yet again. unlike pele, however, surya's disappearance has a distinct, tangible lead. the mountains. it has become apparent that at some point, he's crossed them. the matriarch can not, will not follow him over the peaks. never again will she leave those she loves in search of the missing. 

but she owes it to the man to search where she can, and this close to the mountains, she holds out hope that a loner, a scout, might make their way into the valley with some indication of what's occurring on the other side of the range. both are reaches, but they're what lies within her ability at the moment.
"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."
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#2
Upon arriving to their new home, he remains amazed by the barrier or mountains above them. If he is to live in these lands, he has to know them. So, he ventures northeast, through the dangerous winding paths alongside the mountains that deposit him in a vast plain of grass sprinkled with trees. He feels like he recognizes this area but he’s not all too sure. Still he continues forth. 

Reaching a creek, that Donovan doesn’t even know deserves the name. Rather it seems like a dangerous, rushing river. He walks along side it to find safe passage to cross.
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her paws take her toward the river; thirst beckons, perhaps made more apparent by the way the memories of this place make dry her throat. movement draws her attention; she straightens, auds pressed forward against her crown. not wanting to startle the stranger, she chuffs to draw his attention. he's large, towering over even the tallest wolves she's known, and she certainly does not intend to startle him into aggression. 

he moves parallel to one of the rougher parts of the river, the bank falling steeply into the rush of the waters. not the best place to drink, but the stranger proves distraction enough from that.
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#4
The panther moved from one place to the next, spurred onward by nothing. Two strangers on a blind date. Dægmar eyes the cloud woman, the dark male. Curious. Aimless. He moves towards them, towards the river, nearer to Dawn, whom he chuffed at gently from some distance. Despite the fact that she had not noticed him yet, only the other man, Dæg is not one to turn down company. Even the company of these unknown to him . . .
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The massive male continues in his languid pace next to the much faster river, spotting a good few rocks that could be a place to cross. It looks sketchy, but hell he’s probably not going to find much better. 

Though just as he begins heading towards it, a chuff and a figure out of the corner of his eye cause him to swing his head in the direction of the distinct noise. Another wolf. One of silvers,  mottled with cream. He wonders who they are briefly and decides he might as well figure it out. When his eyes meet the caramel of her own, he gives a neutral but yet interesting look in her direction. Clearly supposed to see her there, he tilts his chin up a pinch and eyes her. Taking his gaze off of the stranger when he meets the rock bridge. 

The rocks are rough so thankfully there shouldn’t be too much slipping and falling, but there’s still enough room for error to cause death. The first rock is a bit far from the shore and it requires a jump to get to. He poised himself like a snake ready to strike, his muscles shifting beneath his stripped pelt as he bravely makes the first jump. It’s successful enough and he’s able to comfortably stretch himself to the next few. Then another iffy jump and he’s off on the other side of the river.

He lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and now turns his full attention onto the stranger wolf. His gait is slow and lazy as he walks toward her and he gives a nod of his chin in her direction. Upon further inspection, her scents wafts near him and it’s now obvious that it’s a she-wolf. “Who’re you, dear?” He asks casually. Then his brows furrow at the possibility of a familiar scent on her pelt.
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the stranger leaps across the river in a few powerful bounds. bronze gaze watches him as he moves across the river, chin raised a fraction as she watches his approach. his lack of an introduction is met somewhat warily, but words eventually come as he languidly closes the distance between them. her brow furrows a moment, auds twitching in clear distaste. she does not like being called dear, but the man could have information she needs. "dawn, of whitebark stream." 

she assumes the quirk of his brow is in response to her discontent with his manner of greeting, but she forges ahead. "I'm looking for a male called Surya -" she notices the dark man then, gaze tracing over him as he approaches without word. muzzle dips a fraction in greeting, but her gaze returns to the man after a beat. "is he with you?" she forgets to ask for the first male's name, gaze returned again to the stygian male.
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The male makes a couple of impressive leaps, crossing the river to the side where Dæg and Dawn stood. He didn't seem to notice him yet, greeting the girl with a nickname in spite of just meeting her- who introduced herself as Dawn in response. She was quick to get to the point; beginning to ask after a missing lad until her attention turned to the panther. Even if the question was not for him, he answered: I donnae run viz anyone, now. A dip of obsidian muzzle in return, and he was quiet again, thoughtful.
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He watches her with an interested gaze as she introduces herself as Dawn of Whitebark Stream. He assumes it’s a place, unaware that it could be a pack even though she smells of one. For his own name adds his birthplace in the end.

“Donovan Azura of the Abbey.” He offers to her. 

Then he believes he’s unfamiliar with the name she gives him. Instead he pointedly inhales more of her scent, trying to distinguish who’s it could be; all he knows is that it’s familiar. “I don’t think know if this Surya. What’s he look like?” He asks interested, did the name sound familiar too? He can’t quite put a finger on it. Then as she gestured to the other male and then back to Donovan he realizes she’s asking if the raven furred wolf is with him. Shaking his head side to side he chuckles slightly. “I don’t think he is. Never met him.” He hums, looking over to the male.

Then unknown to him a sleek onyx wolf strides up next to them and Donovan gives him a questionable look. Where did he even come from? He wonders internally. Smoothing our his facial expressions, he allows himself to gaze upon the other male a curious quirk in his coin gold eyes. Taking in his features, he shamelessly looks down the length of his body. Rather large, impressive strength no doubt. Donovan can’t recall a wolf he’s seen wear such a pitch black coat. Then the accent that hits him causes a brow to raise. He finds the male impression enough and gives him nod of his head. 

Though his intense gaze and the a nod are all he does to acknowledge the male, wandering what his relationship is with this female since apparently they know each other. The raven wolf doesn’t smell of a pack either so Donovan is left wondering. He sets his gaze back into the female in front of him.
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the male speaks; unaffiliated, then. he offers no word on surya, though it's not entirely hopeless; any of the two might have seen him in passing. the dark male remains nameless, though the accent shaping his words suggests he hails from beyond teekon. the large male, donovan. she considers, a moment, that something seems off about him — something, in the back of her mind, shifts. a moment of contemplation, before she decides it is the dog that once ran with easthollow that he reminds her off. not entirely wolf, then, perhaps accounting for his size. something else, now, but shifts her thoughts back to surya. 

"he's young - brown, and cream, with green eyes. he's about my height, with a thinner pelt." gaze alternates between the two strangers, adding after a moment, "his trail leads over the mountains. do either of you hail from there?" 

her mouth thins, remembering the healer's distress. "he's been missing a while now." she's stopped by the healer's only that morning, depositing her daughter at her den as an added measure to ensure she wouldn't be tempted to follow (and aphrodite seemed to love her, anyways).
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#10
The introduction of the second, and so the panther follows, Dægmar Maoilrian, of Timber Falls. A bow of his muzzle to the both of them. Suddenly interested in all this, Dæg's ears prick forward expectantly, listening to the description. Not like anyone he'd met. Cheap gold gaze fell to the ground, slightly disappointed he couldn't be of much help. Nae, I 'aven't even reached ze mountains yet. So, ye found his trail- is he alone? D'ye want me ta keep an eye out?
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Since being in the Teekon he hasn’t met many agouti wolves. Really he could count them on one hand. So he shifts through the memories of each one. Aphrodite being the first to come to mind, then the honey pelted warrior of the coastal wolves. The ones known as Yuèlóng and their leader, he still doesn’t know her name. At the resurrection of her words in his memory when he left the interrogation he inwardly bristles. The words that made him decide that is they wanted an enemy, then they shall get one. He will have mercy on no one. His pack is first above all else and he will now down anyone who doubts them. It was about time to bring the teaching of his father to life. Then as he continues down the list he remembers a male that is exactly as she describes, the one that “saved” Aphrodite. A weak man, but smart enough not to pick a fight with Donovan. He can’t say the same for the other one though. As he jogs his memory a light bulb goes off. That scent on her, that’s Aphrodite’s. Oh, he’s in for a treat now.

Eventually, a smirk crawls its way on to his maw and his golden orbs fill with something akin to resentment. He will apologize to no one any longer. His will to care has died, never to return. His face becomes predatory as he gazes to Dawn. “You’re the family little Aphrodite talked about so often. The family that was supposed to save her. Now her little boyfriend is gone? How pitiful. What a man he is for leaving his woman behind in such a time of need.” He spits the words with a mocking tone, his carefree spirit switching to one of the devil himself in the blink of an eye. “He’s probably dead.” He chirps back maliciously, looking her square in the eyes.
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the stygian speaks, and though his lack of knowledge is accepted, she is grateful for his help. she dips her muzzle, in an affirmative and gratitude. "if you would; though I fear something bad's happened to him," for what other reason would he not have returned? it was like aditya's disappearance all that time ago, the blood, the unknown. a sigh; so many have vanished. recently, they'd lost many; only aphrodite had been lost to them and then returned. no, not returned, rescued. 

that tug in the back of her mind is suddenly wrenched into clarity, just as the male's face changes. he does not need to speak; already the dynamic is violently shifted. her hackles spike, lips already beginning to curl. it should be noted, however, that in her lifetime Dawn has taken part in three fights, none of which had been entered purposefully. as expected, all had entered poorly. 

bronze meets gold, and stiff-legged she steps toward him. "leave this place, and never set foot in this valley again." she burns, anger moving to pulse in her veins. that this beast would intrude so close to her home and family strikes that deep-set fear that is waiting for her happy family to crumble. "I will rip out your throat," surya's probably dead. aditya's probably dead. her first litter, probably dead. she'll be damned if she allows this man a fraction closer to the stream.
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She encourages him to seek in his travels, and so he will. But the light atmosphere suddenly turns frightening when the male's tone changes - mocking the lass even as hackles rose along her back. A joke of the lad's death from the brute, a threat from the clouded woman - and though both seem aggressive, Dægmar ultimately feels he must take the side of the woman. It was the dark lad who initiated the spat, after all. Dæg's gaze flitted tensely between them as he shoved his way in front of Dawn, facing Donovan. He was not typically one to disrespect a lady - but he felt it was in her own best interest. He was in these lands, purposeless, having lost nearly everything, or let it slip away from his grasp. There is nothing to lose now, and he eyes the equally large male with a calculating gaze, tail raised over his back fiercely, and lips curling themselves into audible snarl.
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Donovan takes her threats lightly. Loves the way her hair bristles down her spine and her lips snarl viciously at him. The silver she-wolf’s voice is laced with venom and he absolutely loves it. He’ll take joy in destroying her along with her cute little pack.

His own lips wrinkle in a savage smile full of ill intent and he lets out an excited bark of malicious laughter. “I don’t think so darling.” He hums almost ready to pounce her right there when the miscellaneous male steps in front of her.

“I would leave if I were you.” He warns to the male before him, voice in a low chuckle, canary irises staring into the black panthers own in a blatant display of dominance. He widens his stance and comes toe-to-toe with the onyx wolf. His curled tail raised high on his hips, he will try and ward him off with dominance first; if that doesn’t work then death is his next option. 

He can’t help but think, Of course he would defend the female. The better decision would be for him to turn tail and mind his fucking business, but Donovan can tell he’s too much of a good soul to do such a thing. Suits him. This man will learn not to meddle in others affairs.

If the male doesn’t back down at Donovan’s display at dominance, he will snap forward, teeth bared and heading straight for Daegmar’s face. Little does he know his attack will not land.
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the dark male does not flee, but picks a side — hers. the matriarch is for a moment flushed with gratitude, but there is hardly any time to give voice to such things. he moves between herself and the male, allowing the huntress a precious moment to gather herself. fleetingly, she considers fleeing, but can not leave this shadow to fend for himself, and can not turn her back on a threat like donovan. 

and then he is charging the male, and she can not cower behind him. she slips to the side, a breathless "thank you," escaping her lips as she offers a fleeting sideways glance to the stygian. lunging, her jaws aim for the side of the male's face, snapping on empty air inches from the soft flesh of his cheek, tail curled high and lips curled. he is a threat to everything she stands to lose.
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The man laughs like a villain in some old movie; joyful when the damsel in distress is confronted by his intentions. 

This woman was not such a damsel in distress, but rather a fighter. And the man made it clear this was no movie. 

Now Dægmar got to play the best part: the knight who wards off the evil and saves the girl. If only this were fairytale. 

A whisper of gratitude to his ear from the cloudy girl as she slips beside him- and all he can taste is her goddamn scent, one that might haunt him for days to come. And then the dragon's words: I would leave if I were you. Mentally, Dægmar rolled his eyes. Of course you would, coward. No one taught you what it means to be a gentleman. But words did not solve battles, certainly wasted breath, time, and energy- and Dægmar was not interested in responding. Even to the displace of dominance, the leviathan was a brooding shadow- acid gaze hooded by dark brow, a tail that raised over his back in turn, a puffed chest.

A snap to his face then, but only meeting thin air- and the warrior can't help the smirk that ghosts on his muzzle before slipping away as if it had never existed in the first place. This man had a lot to bark and apparently, little to bite. The same could unfortunately be said for his companion, though- who was certainly snatching a lot of nothing with her fangs, for a lady who was threatening to tear out throats just moments before. 

It was a battle in the air between them. Dæg, show them how it's done. 

The raven shot forward in the moment after Dawn's sorry attempt at a strike, jaws stretched open, intent on getting a grab in on the beast's collarbone. It was there his fangs collided with fur and flesh, the soft dimple between bone and shoulder- and he sunk his fangs in without mercy as deeply as he felt he could, until he drew away like a dark cobra, quick to strike and inject his venom.
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The raven of a wolf smirks at Donovan’s first miss. The brindled male can only give back his own toothy smile in reply. Even as he surges forward and sinks fangs in dangerously close to his jugular, Donovan’s smirk remains. Except now it is not teasing for playful as it usually is. It’s crazed and blood thirsty; the want to kill blatant and searing hot within him. 

Surprisingly enough, Dawns teeth snap only inches from his leg. Daegmar is the bigger threat right now and he will deal with him accordingly. Surprisingly enough, the beast only bites him and lets go. Leaving puncture wounds in his wake. Donovan will do the same.

He’s surging forward and latching his own teeth onto the other powerful neck. Doing just as he did to him, he sinks his fangs deeply into him with the intent to throw his body into a vicious shake. Yet this other wolf seems to have different plans.
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Dawn has fallen inactive, wrapping.
 

The battle went on, as the beast came for his own throat too. The attempt to shake could only do so much- Dægmar was a large wolf, rivaling the beast in size if not overcoming him completely. The puncture was what got to him- though the shadow wished to remain for the woman's sake, that particular wound had him tasting blood. He shot a fierce look to Donovan, and paid a final worried glance back at Dawn, but ultimately made his way off from the scene to tend his wounds. He made a mental note to return for Dawn's scent paths later; ensure she would be found alive.
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