Qeya River dignity broke the fall.

Frost was not one to leave the heart of the territory. He'd been born a quiet, inquisitive boy and little had changed in the months that had followed. He was observant, kind, pensive, and very much attached to the stability and security he found with the familiar. That being said, he was also curious. Intensely so. It was that curiosity that ever got him into those rare instances of trouble he encountered, and that curiosity that he'd inadvertently allowed to lead him so far from the center of the pack's territory.

When that insatiably inquisitive drive took him, Frost had a tendency to become single-minded in his pursuits. So it wasn't until he abruptly discovered the absence of pack scent that he stopped, picked up his head, and realized he had erred. The boy was approaching six months. His confidence had grown as he followed his siblings and learned from his parents what it was to survive in this world. He was still a child, though, and finding himself out of bounds was to set him right to the edge of panic.

In a whirl, he spun and searched his surroundings, desperate for something familiar. There was nothing. He had no idea how far he'd gone and in his panic, he'd lost track of what direction he'd come from. His ears pinned back as a piteous whine broke free of his throat and he shrank into the grass, uncertain what else to do other than try to hide from the alarming amount of shadows that had just made themselves known to him while he tried desperately to regain control of his racing thoughts.

she combs the mountains. valleys on either side. aimless walk takes her back and forth over the sunspires; there are worse things to do with one’s time. plenty of prey to find, even in the rain; easy enough to scoop trout from the waters when she needs. rain’s quieted the wilds, seems like. maybe just hard to notice the scent trails now, this muted.

rain’s not stopped the ice, this far north. river’s glazed in it, even if the banks are still unthawed. not any problem. borne worse cold before, and she’s not planning to stay in the water long. warm gentle rain keeps falling, flattens fur to the heavy curve of her shoulders.

she’s patient.

doesn’t take so long. silvery shape under the water; she comes down, jaws open. salmon stays caught between them as she lifts her head back, pulls her catch back to the bank; heavy on the mud and sand, she pins it under one broad paw, leans down and –

an ear twitches. something – she’s not alone here after all. quick glance shows nothing, but no prey seeing her would whine – would head in the other direction. just on instinct.

she scrapes the fish up the bank. blood streaming off silver scales, weakening. not here to watch it die slow; crunches its head in powerful jaws before she leaves it, head lifted. looks around and there – streak of white in the grass.

not a full-grown wolf. not much more than a cub. means there should be parents – still nothing, no matter if she strains to hear.

borya fixes the cub with one spring-green eye. keeps her claws down, words clipped. not here to scare it. “your parents here?”

As much as he tried to gain control of his panic, all he managed to do was to flatten himself against the ground like a wolf skin rug. It was somewhat comforting, though not enough to let him think about taking any real action. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he just needed to settle down and regain the ability to think clearly. Once he managed that, he could figure out what to do. It would be okay. But he would walk away from this experience knowing one thing for sure--settling down was the hardest part.

Frost jerked violently when he heard another's voice, spinning to face the creature that had come upon him. It wasn't a wolf. It was.. it was a big thing. His eyes widened in fear, but his head canted a little in curiosity. What was this animal? It was terrifying, yes, but also... interesting. It was Frost's interest that stopped him from running, and that also stopped him from being quite so afraid. Whatever this giant wolf was, Frost sensed it meant him no harm. And he was young and naive enough to let that be enough.

"No," Frost answered, his voice small and quivering. He shrank back into the ground nervously, though he did feel a tiny bit calmer now that he was distracted by his curiosity.

he’s wide-eyed, still doesn’t back away – looks curious, if anything, with the tilt of his head. doesn’t turn tail and run – hasn’t learned what he should fear yet. necessary lesson, but borya won’t be providing it. draws plenty of lines already: scaring kids is one of them.

she’s hardly a fan of wolves. still feels she should offer something. rain’s coming down, probably harder soon – hasn’t let up in near a week – no pack out here, even with scent all washed out in the rain.

the pup flattens himself against the dirt, doing his best not to be noticed, wet and muddy. voice trembles when he speaks. sympathy kicks somewhere in her chest. memory of her own kids, maybe. not just wolf cubs that get lost.

borya sighs.

“you have them, though? know where they are?”

There was nothing overly friendly about the creature's expression, yet something about her presence made Frost feel more secure. He likely should've been frightened--she was huge, unfamiliar and scarred in a way that suggested she had seen a great deal of violence. But, she clearly had survived it. Perhaps that was why he slowly began to steady his breathing and see through the panic that had heavily clouded his mind moments ago.

Her question brought tears to his eyes, though. "I don't know how to get back to them," Frost whimpered piteously, his voice hitching, "I found a scent I've never smelled before and I followed it, and I didn't realize I was past the borders, and now I don't know which direction I came or how to find them again." His words sped up as he went, crushed out of his lungs by the weight of guilt and anxiety that fell upon him as he realized just how foolish he'd been. His parents would be so mad, if he ever saw them again.

questions don’t seem to help. the cub starts crying, still all but flattened to the dirt. probably not doing that much to make him less scared; not sure what she can do. she doesn’t have much of a friendly face.

low huff rises in her chest. just her luck the cub doesn’t know. but – not his fault. she’s sure it’s common enough – not so easy to find your way home in the rain. not so easy for parents to find a lost cub in it either.

she leans down. sniffs at him, brief and fast, takes her head away – not here to make him panic. knows a wolf border scent well enough – not who this particular one belongs to, but she can pick the notes up under rain and wolf fur. should be able to identify it if she finds it again.

“you know your pack’s name?” borya asks. pup’s not a newborn – should have taught him that much, at least. “where they live? if it’s forest, river, or mountain?” a pause. "or how far you've walked?"

It took a moment for Frost to calm himself back down, which was made easier by the bear's sudden proximity. He stilled as the big, scarred nose slipped near his fur and moved away again, watching with wide, curious eyes. It was such a familiar move that it was comforting, and once again he was comforted by the power and protection that seemed to radiate from the huge beast.

"Whitebark Stream," he said, answering three of her questions in one. As for how far he'd walked, he shook his head to indicate he wasn't sure. He hadn't been paying attention as he'd been too focused on the trail he'd followed.

doesn't seem to bother him, when she gets close. seems to calm him, if anything – won't pretend she understands why. she wouldn't be calmed, seeing herself, chain and scars. especially not from the eyes of a wolf cub.

"unless you've been running more than a day, should follow the river up. streams'll branch off from there. hope you'll recognize a bit of yours." borya indicates the sweep of the river with her nose, eyes the cub. might not be clear enough, though she'd hope he knew his home when he came to it.

maybe not so easy in the rain, and she's already offered this much. rather not leave him out here to whoever else might come up, if he stays lost. not many bears are friendly. not many wolves, either. "can follow, if you need."

mind if we wrap this up? I'm shipping Frost out of the game <3

He hadn't been running for more than a day, that much Frost was certain of. A couple of hours at most, perhaps. As she gave instructions, the boy pushed himself up onto his haunches, peering into the Wilds with focused eyes. Now that he had some direction, he had something to dwell on rather than how alone and lost and scared he was. It helped. A lot.

"Okay," he said quietly, determination making its way into his voice. He glanced up at the bear again and offered a small, sheepish smile. "Thank you," he added, "I'm Frost."

of course! this can be the last then? thank you for the thread!!

name fits him. he certainly has the colors for it. borya nods to him; the chain around her neck clatters with the movement. might be a foolish move, to run so far from your pack's lands not knowing how to get back – something she'd have liked his parents to teach him, maybe this'll be the reason they need – but it's nice to see he came out with some manners.

"frost," she repeats, returns just a hint of a smile. "name's borya."

she turns along the bank, takes a quick look to make sure she's got the right direction. river hasn't quite overflowed its banks yet; should be safe enough to travel the edge, even for a cub. she's a strong swimmer, if she needs it, though it seems he'll be able to keep safe.

"come," she says. stops on the way to scoop the fish back into her jaws. if it's too long a trip, they'll need the meal. no intention of letting it go to waste.