Deepwood Weald a shadowy hand turns the page

It had been a long time since he had ventured far enough to the north to visit the weald. Truth be told, he hadn’t quite intended to go so far from the mountain, but an energized bout of scouting had let time and distance get away from him. Dusk was setting in fast as it was prone to doing so late in the year—he should have been turning back, heading for the familiarity and safety of the mountain… and yet…

The depths of the wood called to him as they had once before. There was familiarity here, something that reminded him of a time when things were significantly easier, at least for him. Though relative ease was certainly apart of his life now, he knew better than to grow complacent with things. Quiet was not the same as safe and loosed to the wilderness did not add that element either. Yet in spite of his rather stationary position in the present, he had needed to stretch his legs a little.

Winter would be upon them soon and it would effectively curb his wandering until the spring, and winter meant preparations to be done. Herds to track, trails to follow, neighbors to keep a wary eye of on the off chance they opted to get a little testy with the shifting season; had it not been an instinctive thing to do, the tasks at hand would have felt a bit nauseating to say the least.

Yet as he delved into the woodland, dipping just past its outskirts to be swallowed whole, he forgot about those things. Would Nyx ever visit here with him? The place held memories of a slightly more ambitious time for him, but for her it was another story altogether. Keres he knew he could drag along and perhaps come spring, he would introduce his youngest to the thick timber and growth. Perhaps he would abscond for a day with Hydra here, too.

The weald was frequented now—he stopped to hover over old, idle markings.

The Mackenzie was erratic in her travel pattern. Entering the Wilds from the south, she did a pivot west to explore the terrain of the southwestern regions of Great Bear and Tuktu. In one fell swoop, migration turned east to Kintla and briefly Rising Sun. Her paws were adept at the mileage and vowed to wander until fate established a purpose for her, even if it wore her paws to the bone. Along the way, she met a variety of wolves, pack and loners alike. So far, the majority seemed eerily normal. Perhaps a little too normal. Even wolves who did not claim alliance to any moniker were naturally hospitable in their own accord. It made her apprehensive of such congeniality even though she should be beholden of such kind strangers. When you came from a past so trauma stricken, it was difficult to break free of the cycle. You could run away physically, but could never run away mentally from it.
 
Ironically, this region shared a portion of the name of her birthplace. Perhaps it had been fate, for Zsuzsa decided to follow the flight path of the Raven above toward northern lands. Instead of being her shadow in the skies, she was its shadow from the Earth. Granted she was already sick of the bad omen that was this avian, but something told her this time to follow its flight. In her jaws were the tattered remains of a fiery colored marten she snagged on the way up as a snack. The trees here seemed stripped thin as her own figure from living off measly weasels. Her trot made an audible crunch from deadened leaves beneath her paws. Zsuzsa came to a gradual stop, however, head raising upon seeing a tawny figure amongst the foliage.
 
Unlike more of the bulky males she encountered, he was tall and lean. Adoring agouti hues, Zsuzsa concluded monotonous black and white wolves were certainly a minority in these parts. He smelled of wilderness, but also a strangely familiar scent. It vaguely reminded her of the animated @Bronco, but couldn’t put a paw on it. Perhaps it was similarities in looks or something with pheromones. Gently setting down her small kill at the foot of her paws, silver eyes observed his lingering. ”Paying your respects?” Zsuzsa called out in a neutral alto tone. She suddenly felt rueful in her clamor through the dead leaves if she trotted in on his solitude at the wrong time.

The acrid tinge of blood in the air hit his nose next, at first just a hint of such on the wind. But it grew stronger and then footfalls closer, and he tore his thoughts and sight away to look upon the company that had found him. Like his wife, she was a raven-cloaked beauty but taller. Perhaps leaner on that basis alone, but easy enough on the eyes as he regarded her with mute interest. He ignored the kill at her feet—he wasn’t interested in making himself seem a threat for it.

“Of a sort, you could say,” he answered. “This used to be my home for a spell.” Another life ago, he wanted to add, but his tongue had stilled. He could have asked if she was from the area, but there was something about her that suggested otherwise. The accent, maybe, however light and fleeting as it were set her aside from the others. She bore the coat of a traveler, long loosed from her homeland much in the same way he was.

His gaze left her then, seeking refuge elsewhere for a moment. There was nothing else to ascertain from their surroundings and nothing to suggest that he had walked headlong into some trap ill-fitted for him. The weald had always had a certain sanctity to it, he thought, and perhaps it would always retain that. Perhaps not a suitable home for him now, but…

“It would seem it has become a home for others, now.”

Even if he wanted her kill, she wouldn’t dispute over it; slim pickings didn’t hold the merit to. Here before her was a wolf who had an orderly pelt about him. In good health and seemingly neutral in nature. Unique as the alternating dark and light patterns of his coat, what was common about him in relation to some individuals Zsuzsa already chanced upon was mentioning a land that used to be home. There seemed to be quite a bit of wolves who were displaced from their typical dwelling, from pack members and loners alike. Zsuzsa’s sable brows furrowed. Either there was a record of natural disasters this year or a universal need to escape one’s past. Zsuzsa wasn’t exempt from the latter herself, but it did make her wonder why so many wolves in these Wilds were repositioned from their lands during this current time.
 
Her steel gaze traversed the lay of the area, surveying the dead leaves and the wafer-thin trees. It was once a former haunt of his, passed down to the next generation of creatures to inhabit. It was still now, and the forest kept its secrets of the past he once was a part of. ”Mm. A rite of passage, almost. Not ever having that feeling again until you create a new home with a new pack. You miss the idea of it. Perhaps that’s all it is. Missing a now imaginary place.” Zsuzsa wistfully remarked, unsure of why she suddenly got so philosophically abstract. It could be reflected in her own experience of once not being homeless, but “home”less. As difficult as the lone wolf lifestyle could be, the Mackenzie welcomed the solitude aspect that came with it. She was convinced she never had a home and even if she chose to settle with a pack one day, she accepted it would be the same transient feeling she always knew it had been for her.

Possibly this wasn’t his experience with it at all. Perhaps she was just using it as an icebreaker. She was never one to pry open anyone if they weren’t comfortable sharing their inner selves. This expectation with strangers was low but it seemed most wolves in these parts proved to be amicable so far.

They shared a sentiment without knowing it—the essence of a transient feeling. Moonspear had certainly become his home but in a sense Dirge did not think of it entirely as home. The word had never had much of a feeling associated with it, truth be told. He had never been in the business of finding home; the world was a very vast place and once upon a time, he had been keen to explore it and discover all of its secrets that it would share.

But time had changed everything. Meeting Hydra had changed everything.

“Perhaps,” he rejoined, “but I’d like to think I found a greater treasure to hold.”

He wasn’t much for philosophy either, certainly not a student nor a practitioner of such. Yet the statement was almost probing in his thoughts though perhaps the intention was not truly there. It had been a while since he had just a simple conversation, even longer since a simple conversation found itself brushing against what were still a set of surprisingly sensitive topics that he had been holding close to his chest for far longer than he had ought.

“Is that what you miss? An imaginary place from another life ago? I must admit while your beauty compliments the scenery, it is a bit telling that you’re not from these parts any more than I.” He did his best to seem charming without being too much of a lech, but it was a subtle test of waters all the same. What kind of a creature was she, really? She was young, younger than he by a safe amount, and yet they seemed to hold the same reservations in body language.

He wondered what her tale was. Then conversationally, he continued: “Though I suppose at this point, I could pass for a local all bred and born for this wilderness.” Tit for tat, he gave out more morsels like a man throwing seed to birds to see what bit.

He denounced a greater treasure. Her gaze shifted to their surroundings again, noting the lofty spindly trees and how the branches were not within reach for forest creatures to make a home amongst them. The characteristics of forest ground ferns were drab to her and offered little concealment as they grew mid-leg high. It wouldn’t be a region Zsuzsa would personally take to the likes to, but she could be no judge for the sentiments he once felt here. It may have seemed imaginary now, but it once was indeed very real for him. ”What called you back?” Zsuzsa inquired. It took millions of years (or sometimes short stints of natural disasters) to change a complex ecosystem and was intrigued to know if there was anything particularly distinctive about this area he could share from the past. History lessons could be a valuable insight into potentially telling the future.
 
He then spun her philosophical musings back to her court with a flattering remark. A small smile tugged at the corners of her muzzle but couldn’t have been seen for the expression was brief and the canvas of her dark features gave her a constant stoic appearance. ”No." Her conclusion to his ask was flat, direct. ”Attempting to live in my past has always made my future less enjoyable.” For a moment her steel eyes traveled slightly past him, a glinting worry flashing in them. The further she managed to distance herself from her birthplace, the more she realized there was nothing to relate to there anymore.
 
Her eyes refocused on his once again, an amicable smile returning though it stuck and was now noticeable. He may have been cloaked in the natural aromas of the wilderness, but by the immaculate order of his coat and overall wellbeing in how he carried himself, Zsuzsa couldn’t be fooled he was in a category of being a famished, gaunt loner like her. ”So, does it get better the more north you travel?” It was her furtive way of getting an idea where he claimed homage, whether with land or pack. That, and if there was anything worthwhile exploring. The southern lands proved to be uninteresting to her so far.

What had called him back?

“I was close by,” he said with good humor. He did not have a good reply for this and balked, unable to hide it. But it was replaced in favor for what else she had to say and ask, and at least the latter of comments he could supply a good answer to.

“The further north you go, the colder it gets. Weather-wise, anyway. I’ve always had good fortune in going north, but preferred more temperate climates like this. Of course if you go north from here, you’ll hit the coast long before you find the taigas and tundras should you keep along it.” A demure smile followed his trailing words briefly. “But the south of here, you’ll find more of our kin lurking. In the forests, the mountains, along the river… some good natured, others unafraid to find flesh for teeth to sink into.”

The good, the bad, the ugly, the usual.

But he did not doubt that she knew of such things—after all, she had a point in saying that living in the past made the future less enjoyable. And he had worked to try and shed much of his only to discover that some things were inescapable. He was not immune to the folly of sentiment, though he had hoped he would be.

“But I all suppose it depends on what you hope to find,” he went on, “so what are you hoping to find?”

Giving a concise answer, he didn’t elaborate further on his reasoning for wandering here. It was fairly straightforward. Zsuzsa dipped her muzzle in a nod, understanding this. She wasn’t one to pry and decided to leave it at that. Nothing wrong with revisiting old haunts for the sake of reminiscing. It further alluded wherever he hailed from it was fairly nearby.
 
Listening intently as he described the lands north, it pleased her to hear there were lower climates. Her journey through the southern lands of the Wilds had been much too warm for her liking. The southern lands were also flat with not much foliage to conceal oneself in. He spoke of the coast and she recalled her conversation from the wolf she met in Haunted Wood that mentioned the beach and ocean entities. ”The coast… holds the beach and ocean, yes?” She wanted to confirm if this was the case. She never experienced either in her life before and something about it drew her toward it to experience first paw.
 
He also spoke of a well-established network of wolves to the south. This was also pertinent information to know. It was the best of both worlds. He inquired what she wished to find. It was quite simple. ”I would like to find some sense of permanency somewhere.” Zsuzsa said. It was what all wolves craved. ”My hope is making a name for myself, eventually.” Because living off small woodland creatures wasn’t sustainable in the long run, and she feared she would grow stagnant in her abilities and skills.

To make a name for herself; his features twitched ever so slightly to hear this, almost curling into a smile as pondering was left in its wake. More than likely a tale others had, though he would have appended such a thing to dispersals of his gender than hers. It always seemed more likely that men would seem more ambitious than women, though truth be told most of the women he found himself in the company of on a regular basis were every bit as openly ambitious as they could be. Some were, of course, more subtle.

“Yes, the coast does hold the beach and the ocean,” he confirmed—had she never seen it? All signs point to yes. “It’s truly quite a bewildering thing to see for yourself. Beautiful, but notably dangerous. The ocean is a thing in which we cannot see its truth depth like a clear lake or stream. It’s stronger than it looks, too.” He had seen the way it would sweep the unaware off their feet, and he too had learned a thing or two the hard way about it’s ebb and flow.

“As for permanency, should you ever decide to travel south to make your name known I also may know a place or two,” he went on, turning his head to gesture. “Outside this forest you’ll see the mountains—my pack resides along the tallest of them, Moonspear.” Perhaps brazen of him to offer, but he did not pass up opportunities as they came such as that. But he imagined she would want to see where her feet would take her too, if she was anything like he was. After all, Hydra had taken her time in recruiting him once upon a time.

The Mackenzie was like a yearling, listening on with attentive eyes and ears. He spoke of the wonders and frightening beauty of the ocean. He recounted more detail than what she originally heard about the ocean. It sounded like an entity of its own. ”Is it Mother Nature actually… moving and thinking?” Of course Mother Nature all around them was alive but the ocean sounded like it had an attribute to intelligence about it. Zsuzsa grew more curious about this large body of deep water. For the first time in her travels, she didn’t want to simply peruse the land mindlessly in search of food and a residence. She actually wanted to get acclimated with it, establish a deeper meaning.
 
The agouti male before her then referenced his pack, Moonspear. It was another moniker to add to her list of resident packs in the Wilds. It was comforting to know it was a light offer of her to pay a visit if she should so want to survey their tall mountainous territory. She had grown up in a mountainous territory herself, so she knew the resources near a mountain range were plentiful for their species. ”I’ll have to pay a visit, as I do miss catching views of the sunrise from a high peak. Anything notable to mention about Moonspear? Surely there had to be some interesting lore behind them; every pack did. Her silver eyes also lit up in realization. ”What name shall I use for you if I decide to drop in?” Zsuzsa realized they didn’t introduce themselves in a formal manner but sometimes it was just better that way if it came about organically.

Was it mother nature that was moving and thinking? He had never wondered such a thing; a shrug was the quickest way to answer that, though a thoughtful pause proceeded it. He did not know for certain, even if it may have been best to say so. The world, including mother nature, did as it pleased and he knew that they were subjected to their whims all the same. Little toys on the play field of greater things they could not see or sense, unless of course they chose to believe. Dirge was not among those who did believe, at least not entirely. Even when he had seen things he could not entirely explain.

“How notable we are depends on who you talk to,” he rejoined as their conversation went along. “We do have the distinguishing feature of being one of the larger, longer lived packs in this region however. No one goes hungry, nor want for anything. We protect our own, occasionally aid our neighbors too.” And despite that he knew there were those that would always seek to harm them, regardless of their status or their lineage. He could have divulged such information to her, but did not quite see the point in such.

“And you can call me Dirge,” he offered then with a charming smile. Such a terrible name for a knave, especially those of the crown-wearing sort. Yet unlike his sister, he had never adopted another moniker, and by now there was no point. He was his mother’s dirge, in a sense, the only boy from a star crossed lover she had never seen again.

The entity of the ocean seemed like a greater abnormality than both of them could contemplate. It was truly something to experience live, so Zsuzsa would leave it to that. More interested in hearing about Moonspear’s pack lore, it was a good sign they were a longer-lived pack in these Wilds. It seemed all too common for packs to be short-lived nowadays. Much history and traditions were lost that way and Zsuzsa, after sharing a brief stint with a pack before the Wilds, noticed the hierarchy was slightly different in a pack that was either short-lived or transitioned one too many times in its lifetime.
 
Nodding once he highlighted the features of Moonspear, it sounded like a grand plan to certainly swing by once she made her ways South again. ”Longevity is something I value, so that is good to hear. Traditions are thrown away nowadays.” Zsuzsa complimented on this key trait. She could tell by the looks of him that they were plentiful in diet. They had enough in numbers to lend to their neighbors as well in need of assistance. All of these prospects were advantageous to someone like her who had been on the lonely path. It was in her future to pay a visit and survey their territory if they allowed a curious loner to do so.
 
Offering his name in a charming smile, Zsuzsa added her own small smile in return. ”I’ll certainly ask for you, Dirge, when I visit Moonspear. You can call me Zsuzsa.” It was a nice feeling to finally meet wolves who were good-natured, healthy, and prospering like Dirge.

“Zsuzsa—a lovely name,” he commented. Hopefully they would cross paths again, though it would not be a surprise if after all this he never saw her again. There were many faces that he could no longer recall that had once spent time with him and that too seemed to tie back into tradition, and back into what she had said. There was plenty that was simply thrown away and here he thought briefly of Arcturus, and wondered how he fared.

He wondered, but perhaps not quite enough to seek him out just yet.

“I suppose tradition is something we do uphold. Moonspear is largely familial in nature; the territory belonged to my wife’s mother and father before they passed, and we inherited it. A lot of work has gone into its upkeep,” he went on with idle conversation. “Incidentally, her father grew up on the coast… which I do hope you get to see for yourself. It may be a wild thing but its beauty does not disappoint.”

Her head dipped, a soft smile of appreciation forming on her muzzle. ”You are too kind.” Her name felt foreign and out of place in these lands. She descended from harsh lands and unorthodox ways. Zsuzsa had come to notice she couldn’t recall the last time anyone verbally complimented her. Their eyes may have been silently admiring, but words of what was felt never came to fruition.
 
The Mackenzie came to know at an early age change was inevitable in this lifetime. Who knew if they were destined to meet again, or perhaps tomorrow, become enemies? She would cherish the moment experienced with Dirge now. He had been kind enough to go out of his way to offer insightful conversation. Those little gestures Zsuzsa didn’t forget so easily. It was fascinating to know he was a steward of his mate’s parent’s pack lands. ”She must be very fortunate to have you, especially to sacrifice yourself to maintain it.” Zsuzsa could only imagine what his mate was like. She was certain Dirge’s mate was healthy like him, strong-willed and collected to be at the helm of managing a large pack. It made her consider to drop by in the future after visiting the coast, to survey the worth of Moonspear.
 
It was solidified her next stop in her travels was straight to the coast. For the kindness of Dirge willing to speak with a loner as herself, she would offer a proposition. ”If and when I visit, maybe I can bring a momento back.” As a pup, Zsuzsa always loved keepsakes from relatives who would travel long foreign distances. Perhaps bringing a trinket back could be a nice ornament to remind oneself of an idea of the past, which circled back to their initial conversation of missing an imaginary place. A novelty item wouldn't make it seem so imaginary anymore.

Was it truly sacrificial if he enjoyed it, even a little? There were perks to holding a territory, for managing subordinates. Though admittedly, he couldn’t have claimed to really need to manage anyone except maybe his youngest children; Moonspear was almost entirely related. They respected the natural law of order and yet defied it too—Hydra’s sisters, her brothers too, none of them had dispersed into the wild to seek their own claims. Nor had his older children, at least not yet.

“I’m sure we can find something you can have as a keepsake,” he said thoughtfully. She thought him kind, so he ran with it. But his kindness was edged, as he had higher aspirations of being rewarded by being kind. Perhaps she would choose fealty to them when the weather grew colder and her options narrowed, remembering his kindness and charm. He could have pushed the topic, but who was he to forsake the option of simply wandering? The world held a great many things and among them may have been her hidden treasure she had yet to discover.

And Dirge, for all he was, could not deny that.

“Your meal’s getting cold,” he went on then, gesturing to it. An option for her to excuse herself if she so desired it, though he found he enjoyed her company in the brief span they had crossed paths. Zsuzsa was a distraction he found he had needed, ever trying to avoid the spiral of thoughts that would have led him down paths of the past, and to things better left to fray along the edges of the tapestry of his history.

Looks like a good place to conclude! I'll swing her by in a couple of weeks to drop off a little somethin'-somethin'. :]

A trade was in order for the future and Zsuzsa nodded with a minuscule smile. It was these little gestures that would make the biggest impressions for the time to come. She had grown weary dealing with hostile situations growing up and especially in light of these new Wilds she stumbled upon, it was in her benefit to make the right allies and connections early. It was all part of the grand scheme to start anew, start fresh. Holding gratitude to have come across Dirge to offer an arduous traveler some much-needed connection, perhaps there would be a time they would be bound to cross paths again (the item trade pretty much solidified it).
 
Dirge mentioned the marten she originally carried, still in the place she set it. ”Ah,” She remarked, too caught up in conversation with Dirge to really pay any mind to it. It was an unspoken cue to get back to the beaten paths ahead. Her tail swayed, silver eyes shifting to the forest ahead, and then transfixing back on his own gaze. ”I’ll leave you back to your reflections. I appreciate all the insight you shared.” Her smile was more apparent on her maw. ”Until next time, Dirge...” Her tail wagged with a more lively swing. Dipping down to pick up her light meal, the Mackenzie then dashed off in an ethereal lope in the distance.

He watched her go though it were a short time before the forest and ferns swallowed her whole. And though Dirge wanted to linger, he knew it was best to start to head back towards the mountain. He wouldn’t reach it until late into the night but knew that it would not trouble Hydra much—she was used to his itch to roam before the season changed, and knew he would keep himself out of trouble for the most part. Even with the dangers and evils that lurked, the wilderness was a vast place of many paths to take.

He turned from the scene, pointing himself back towards the edge of a forest that was once home, and departed. Perhaps another time he would come across Zsuzsa, but when that would be he could not say, if ever. But he hoped she would find herself at the foothills of Moonspear and with any luck, she would stay. They could use all they could muster with the oncoming winter and the looming threats it would bring.

i look forward to it!