Blackfeather Woods Trying to fit a square inside a circle

@Derg 

Again, the Ravens. These woods remind her of a distant place she almost forgot existed. Some itch far back in her memory, drowned out by many other places, times. Some dubiously real, some most assuredly not. 
Such was the life when you spent your life half in the shadows, half in reality. 
A feeble croak caught her attention and she followed the sound, finding a Raven at the base of a tree. Wide, fearful eyes and a panting beak stared up at her, wing laying obviously broken. 
Gingerly she lay beside it, wrapping her paws around the creature like she was comforting a frightened pup. 
"Poor dear. There is trouble ahead... isn't there? These lands will be wounded...crippled...there is so much death here. So much pain and anger." 
She nuzzled the dying bird lovingly. "Go in peace, Little Kraerr. You are not alone." 

The rain didn't seel to slow in its downfall, but he wanted to take a trip away.
Away from the canyon that was slowly turning into a clay pit.
Didn't suit him much, so he decided to fuck off on another day trip.
This time decidedly in the opposite direction of their unfriendly neighbours.

He decided that the thick canopy of the woods would keep it pretty dry, so he headed for that.
Well, he was wrong because the rain had already bent the leaves and branches to let it pour to the soft ground. Bugger.

But soon enough in his explorations, he happened to cup his ears towards a sound.
A voice.
Soft and cooing. Fucking Nemisis.
"The fuck..?" He muttered, going against all his instincts to stay away.

But he was greeted with the very opposite image of Nemisis, but a pale woman, laying by a bird struggling to lift itself so very feebly.
"Do you talk to 'em?" he questioned, standing away from the woman. Watching.

A muttered curse, and the Ghost flicked an ear, not taking her eyes off the raven. 
Pawsteps approached, and a gentleman stood, asking a question.  Finally she raised her head, those eeerily penetrating dark eyes fixed on his russet hues. 
"I talk to many things. I am a sorceress." She answers simply, turning back to the raven, who was now leaning heavily against her. 
"This one's cycle is nearly ended. He is old and weak, and has carried his last message. He called to me....The Ravens always call to me." 

If he were Ronnie Cray, like his creator had based him from, he'd lean against a tree and light a cigar.
But Derg was not.
So he just stood there, watching the self-proclaimed sorceress.
He looked to the raven, it's beak opening and closing like it was panting.
 
A ghost of Nemisis. What would Donovan think if he managed to lead this one back to the party?
"Why you?" He pried.
Was she blessed by The Mother too? Or just one who pretended to be, or was just delusional. 
He wanted to put the bird out of its misery but feared that she might snap at him if he approached to do so.

He sat down, bringing his tail about him, waiting and watching.
Like one of the sentinels around them.

Why You? 

The question was simple, yet caused her to pause for a moment. 
"I don't know. I was trained since I was old enough to see and hear. Fed herbs through my mother's milk, left alone for days with nothing but the voices in my head. Perhaps I'm merely mad. But If I am...there are worse madnesses to have." 
She turned back to her charge, which was feebly kicking, barely able to hold his head up. She caressed it softly, tucking it under her chin like a dying pup.

Seems like an awful upbringing.
But did they not all suffer at some point? It seemed she was just doomed to be for her entire life.
"Indeed," he mused.
Though, she seemed sane enough.

"Well, you've not lost your mind," probably, he nearly added on. But should it induce some sort of insanity, he didn't.
He gave her a soft, sweet smile.
"We like a little bit of madness," he drawled, hoping to pipe her interest.

She seemed sane enough, and he seemed...not as boarish as a man could be. It didn't take her long to realize why- a shift in the wind and she was clouded for a brief moment in a masculine musk. 
Ah. He was a woman in a males body, preferring to take the feminine role, preferring to be mounted. 
"No, I often think I'm a bit sharper than many other shewolves my age. For one, I have no interest in chasing after men. I abhor the majority of them, and the thought of coupling with one even to produce a pup is nearly vomitous." 
No, she would find other ways to procreate, when the time came. Snatch an unattended weanling, or allow her partner to carry and birth. 
She looked down at the raven, who seemed to be taking his last breaths, eyese turned white and glassy. She gently turned it over with her nose, a thin black talon clutching weakly at her fur. 
We like a little bit of madness. 
Who was this we? Were him and his lover searching for a belly to fill with their pups?  Surely not...or perhaps he was a packmaster, requesting she join their ranks? 
"I will never serve under a man, or join a pack lead by one." She answered primly.

She seemed...cocky to him.
Full of herself.
Like she owned the world, and no one could wrong her.
He almost snorted.

"I too dislike women in that way, so perhaps we are alike," he grinned. Women were just trouble, as Nemisis proved.
He'd never been open like this with a stranger. But perhaps Donovan opened him up. Maybe he didn't feel so anxious around women for it because they wouldn't care.

But he was certainly taken aback by her statement.
"Why not? You'd have every equal opportunity in the Saints, and you can have any woman of your choosing."
His ears cupped towards her, surprise evident.
It would be an opportunity not to be missed.
He was sure she'd be a good warrior. Or at least another set of jaws that can work hard.

Ah, there it was. That pulling, pushing, masculine energy. She gently grasped the birds wing, pulling a feather free and tucking it into the fur between her shoulders while murmuring a quiet prayer. She would carry the Kraar's spirit with her as long as he allowed, his departure symbolized by the feather slipping off. 
She spoke, not even casting a glance at him as she dug into the rich earth. 
"Spirit lead me here. Spirit is showing me the sacred spaces. Spirit will have me suffer trials before the next full moon. And Spirit will help me shape a pack, and decide the one to lead it, if not myself. And none of those things will happen if I betray Spirit by allowing myself to be ruled by a male."  She explains as if talking to a child. 
Gently she laid the lifeless bird in his final resting place. She did not cover him- a being of the skies should never lay beneath the earth. 
"The offer I'm sure, was meant well. And in a year's time, when my destiny is manifested, I will find your pack. Perhaps even exchange pups- a male to your pack, a female to ours." 

So, she was set and certain, and likely had been since the day she was born.
He could accept and appreciate that.
It was just a shame.

"The Mother led my sister here, she does not speak to me though. Perhaps the Sprit and the Mother are the same, just seen differently," he offered her a soft smile.
He hoped he didn't offend her, but it was a concept she may be able to grapple with, and show that even if others don't see things the same, there is a common ground.

"But you need not be so harsh with your words, I only wanted to inform you further," he pushed his forelgs out to lay down. Looking as she put the feather in her fur. Like Dove.
Strange, maybe they were sisters.
"I hope you do, we would be powerful allies." His ears cupped as some drizzle slunk its way through the treetops and splattered on the ground around them.
"And if that is how you wish to work, then be it so. We can train warriors for you," he didn't know if that is something she was interested in. But being allied with the Saints, she would need some protection for her pack.

She was aware different groups had different names for Spirit. The same all loving, all leading, at times merciful and motherly, and at others wrathful and dark, feminine presence. 
"I do not often meet a male that knows the ways of Spirit. Where I have traveled from, males were excluded from much. They were not allowed to be in the dens, or be seen with pups below their sixth full moon. They were not allowed to approach a shewolf for breeding purposes unless she and the high Priestess allowed it first. Many of my pack chose to cull male pups, drown them or feed them to the Ravens." 
She had no concept of how horrifying this might be to a stranger. To her, it was how things were. There was no questions to why.
"I will see this pack of yours for myself when the time comes. I have no qualms about an Alliance if they are all as mild mannered as yourself." 
It was an interesting proposition- training female warriors for her pack, sending males to his to do whatever they pleased with them.  "That would be most appreciated." 

She was certainly different, yes.
At least, where she grew up was.
Terrifyingly so.
"The men in my pack were put to work, we had little to talk of, we were put on the front lines, women second besides my sister. She wanted to be by my side."
A soft smile at a fond memory of patrolling the borders together in soundless harmony.
Posing threats to those who wanted to trespass, then ripping them apart in seamless fluidity.
Seems she had an affinity with ravens though.

"Of course, I will greet you myself. My name is Derg, the Overseer. We live on this side of the mountains there," he flicked his head towards the Sunspires behind him, "in a red canyon. Hard to miss," he smirked. He'd just ave to tell Donovan not to be an ass and try to 'seduce' her. She would surely shred him if he did.

"I'm glad we could make this agreement," his left ear flicked a mosquito off of it. It would be powerful.

Another pack that placed men on the outside. It was funny, the Phantom thought, how similar their worlds were. 
He introduced himself as Derg, a decidedly unpleasant and gutteral sounding name. 
"Derg?" She laughed softly. "What an absolute tragedy of a name. Did your mother despise you?" She couldn't help it. It was the most rediculous thing she had ever heard. "I am Macaria. Goddess of blessed Death. Not a real goddess, of course. High Priestess of Daughters of the Raven." 
He gives instructions to his home, a bloodstone canyon nestled in the mountains. She notes it with a nod. 
"If you know the mountains well, perhaps you can tell me. I smelled pack scent along the coast and nestled among the willows near where I plan to build my home- there is an absolutely beautiful valley nestled in the side of the mountain closest to the sea. Are they friends of yours as well? Or something to be concerned about?" Information such as that was vital to an alliance. The Daughters would be neutral of course, not involving themselves in any quarrel that didn't involve them- but her future Dragon might need to know such things.Besides, if a pack was troublesome...

And so she blatantly insulted him.
She did it without mercy.
His lip curled and he looked away. He didn't like being insulted, but he didn't have a vengeful fire burning inside him.

He looked back to the woman, fully composed again; even with a soft smile.
"I think my father must've since he named me," he replied cooly. Men for the boys, and women for the girls.
He wouldn't mention his sister's name, he might lose his cool if she insulted her.
"If you hate my name so, give me a new one." He smirked, tail thumping softly with his humour. Perhaps if he liked it enough he'd take the name on.

Then she spoke about some other packs.
Ah, so she'd been wandering.
"Along the coast, perhaps Yuèlóng, though I haven't been there for some time. And as for the willows, that will be the Court, I know not their full name. Both packs are enemies to the Saints."
He gauged her reaction, letting her have her say on the matters he spoke of. Perhaps he shouldn't be too liberal with what he spoke of, but Donovan didn't want to have their allies deceived.
"They hate people who offend them in any way, they are very picky and pretty relentless. They have many friends in the area, but we have our own,"
And theirs was a lot meaner than the likes of the Empire and the river pack.
Perhaps he can put her off of allying with their enemies.

Ah. No mother to speak of. Or perhaps it was as in her pack, that males were shunned at birth, killed or forced onto disgraced shewolves? 
Regardless, he playfully asks her for a new name, and she pauses. 
Naming was a ritual. But after a moment, spirit whispered. And when spirit whispered, she had a duty to listen. 
"Deimos. Dread Bringer." Yes. A fitting name for a ruler of a warrior clan. She hoped he would choose it. 
She frowned as he named the two packs in question, and titled them both as enemies. Why had spirit lead her to such a hostile land? Was she meant to make peace? If she aligned herself with the enemy of the pack directly adjacent to her, it might bring trouble. He seemed to wait, to watch her, and she realized this was another test, another lesson. 
"Until my Daughters are larger, and properly established, I will reserve any involvement that doesn't directly affect us. We serve spirit first." 
It seemed the safest decision. When she had a Dragon, and a Soothsayer, these matters would be easier.

She thought for a moment. Running through the list of Gods that she'd been taught.
He only remembers a few of the ones deemed important. He wasn't taught of as many, and Grezig refused to follow.

But the name recalled a faint memory of him and his sister patrolling, Pretending to be a pair of the mystical deities.
She called him Phobos, which he remembered now as the brother of Deimos, and she was Hel.
"Suiting," he replied. He might take it on.

He let her speak on her stand, and nodded in agreement, "Wise decisions." 
He stood, his head dipped slightly.
"I suppose you are busy," he finalised, tilting his nose to the stilled bird.

He accepted the name, and it brought a faint smile to her lips. 
yes. From now on, she would know this Two-spirit as Deimos. 
He rose, dipping his head, and made an attempt to excuse himself. She stood, inclining her own head. 
"The body is no more. I will carry his spirit with me until he is ready. When the feather falls free, he'll have moved on from this world." She explained gently. "Still, it is not good to linger. Pleasure meeting you, Deimos." S
She turned, padding off into the woods.

He watched her go, the words resounding in his ears.
The body is no more, but the spirit will haunt her? And she wants it to?
That is where their upbringings are different.
Their teachings.

"A pleasure to you too," he mused as she disappeared. Then too, slipped his way out from the woods into the heavy shower, and started on his way home.