Firestone Hot Springs you put egg on my house, i kill what you love.
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#1
All Welcome 
Penn hadn't really intended to stay with Maia and Wraen's company for as long as he had. He'd really planned on grabbing one meal, resting up a bit, and then taking off again. The longer he lingered, the more likely it was that the conversation might roll around to things like feelings and the future and what was with that whole 'baggage' comment. None of these were things he cared to discuss.

But, he had to admit that he kind of... liked the company. For one, it made hunting easier. And... Well, that was about all Penn was willing to admit to himself. Okay, okay, the girls weren't too bad. They were fun, actually. Wraen's dude seriously needed some stick-in-the-bum-removal surgery, but otherwise he was content with the little group. He'd taken off on his own for a few hours here and there when he found himself unintentionally thinking he'd maybe stick around for a while (too much committment in that thought), but always he came back to share in some jokes and laughter, and to remain aloof when things threatened to take a more serious turn.

Now was one of those times Penn chose to wander away on his own for a bit. Maia had told them some story that made him feel a little bit heartwarmed and a lot bit melancholy for his parents, which made for the perfect opportunity for him to detach and try to weaken some of the bonds he felt to his travelling companions. He didn't have anything particular in mind that he wanted to do, and thus he turned to exploring new terrain which today just happened to be the hot springs. The smell was not at all pleasing, but they were certainly interesting enough to keep his mind off things.

Penn slipped onto his belly at the edge of one of the pools, sniffing at the fumes in spite of himself. Curious, he reached out with a single paw and dipped a toe in the steaming water. It sent chills down his spine and he smiled, wondering how much he'd hate himself if he took a dip and ended up smelling like shit for the rest of the day.
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Penn's addition to the little group of nomads was a welcome change. Wraen had forgotten, when and under what circumstances the young Blackthorn had left Firebirds, but she was truly glad to see him in one piece, healthy, maybe not exactly happy all the time, but same old, funny, adorably tactless and direct guy he had been.

It occurred to her that four was almost a pack and that she was an informal leader, since it was up to her, how long they stayed in one place and, where they settled aftewards. But since all of the people here were so self-sufficient and independent of one another, she did not feel the pressure to fulfill a duty of being an actual leader with all the responsibilities and difficulties that job came with. Which also meant that she did not have to be constantly present or tied to one place, she could also wander to her heart's desire. 

Settling in Blacktail Deer Plateau had its practical reasons - with them being four, they could thin the numbers of the resident herd of deer, and, though this settlement was in close vicinity of Moonspear and another pack that Wraen did not know, it also offered a good post to plan the next move that would happen in a matter of weeks. At present, however, Wraen enjoyed the change of scenery and after coming across the fresh tracks left by Penn, she decided to follow them to see, what the yearling was up to. She found the fellow amidst the fumes of Fire Hot Springs and after observing him quietly for a moment there, she approached and greeted him: "How are you doing?"
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Penn was dipping his toes back in when he heard the sound of someone approaching. He breathed in deep, trying to catch their scent. The smell of the hot springs was too overwhelming, though, so he lifted his head and turned to watch as Wraen materialized out of the mist. He smiled and wagged his tail in greeting, hesitating only slightly when she asked the question.

This was not a question he approved of. This was one of those dangerous ones that could lead to bad places. Emotional places. Nobody needed that. So, he went ahead and interpreted it a little different by replacing the how with what. Much better.

"Just wondering about this water," Penn explained, glancing down again, "I was trying to decide if I dove in, if the water would actually help the cut on my back heal better, or if it would poison my blood, dissolve my veins and I would end up disintegrating from the inside out." True thoughts. He paused, then added in a reasoning, hopeful voice, "It feels good on my toesies."
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Penn was a bit similar to Wraen, when it came to answering questions. He did not give a direct answer, but a whole paragraph, out which maybe one word related to the inquiry itself. She knew that some people found this annoying, but, when you have so much to say and your thoughts race, you cannot expect one - if asked "how do you do?" - reply with just "fine". In Penn's case, where he did not want to discuss emotional stuff, him telling her that his mind was occupied with something else was just as a good answer as any.

She heard him out, nodded solemnly, when he expressed his doubts and then said: "Well, that is a serious task indeed. Just before you plunge - supposedly - to your death, any last wishes you want to fulfill? Words of honor, an eulogy, perhaps, by your grave? How do you want to be remembered?" Wraen was joking, but her voice was serious and she expressed herself as truly concerned. Not so much about the fact that Penn might/would die, but funeral itself. It was important to do them properly.
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Penn was gratified when his question dodge was successful. He grinned at her response, seeing it only as playful and not in any way leading. He took a moment to ponder the idea of last wishes, words and marks left upon the world. For one who threw himself often in the shadow of death, he'd never spent much time contemplating his own demise. He wasn't about to actually start then, either.

"I will be remember as the handsomest son-of-a-bitch that ever walked the earth," Penn replied with thoughtful seriousness, "My only regret is that not everyone was able to behold my devastatingly good looks before I went. Tell my story, Wraen. Tell them how badly they missed out."

And with that, Penn went right ahead and slithered on into the pool.
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"Ballad of the Handsomest Son-of-a-bitch that ever lived... and unfortunately died!" Wraen tasted the words and came to a conclusion that if she and Maia ever got to making that quirky, but awesome pack, Penn would definitely pass the first test. His self-chosen title was amusing and very true. 

"You know what - me and Maia could come up with a poem about you and your feats and..." she did not get to finish that thought, because in a true manner of a Blackthorn, Penn wasted no time. He slithered in the pool and being the good and polite audience she was, Wraen waited those 5 - 10 minutes that were needed to find out, whether the guy was going to dissolve in the pool or not. 

"So - do you feel like dying" she asked curiously, leaning towards him to see it for herself, if he was.
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The pool was deeper than Penn had anticipated, so it took a bit of swimming before he found an edge he could stand on and keep his head above water. The water was quite warm, but not uncomfortably so. And it did feel kind of good on his wound, not that it had actually been hurting him. Satisfied, he turned to grin at Wraen. 

"Not at all," he answered, "I kinda feel like meditating. Or like I should be having some epic, philosophical epiphany about the beauty of life and the world." All things he would never and had never done before, nor was he about to start.
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"Sounds exactly like you," Wraen pointed out and burst out laughing. She leaned over to take a whiff of the sulfury fumes that came from the pool, dared to dip her paw a bit to test the warmth, but decided against following Penn's example. Just in case she was not as invincible as this young guy down there was. 

"So - how is that epiphany coming along?" she asked after 5 minutes, considering that it was enough time to come to a some sort of conclusion about life's greatness.
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Penn was happy to soak in the steaming water with his eyes shut for a few moments. He didn’t really feel any deep thoughts coming on. His mind was actually blissfully empty. It was nice. For a bit. Then it started to get kind of boring. 

His eyes popped open when Wraen spoke and he gave her a shrug. ”All I've got is that I’m going to need a bath after this,” he answered honestly, ”And I think I prefer metaphorical hot water”. He moseyed back towards her then, deciding that boredom simply wouldn’t do. ”Why don’t you come in and see what deep thoughts you can come up with?” he suggested, smiling innocently.
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"Why? I think you..." Wraen sniffed the air, scrunched her nose and finished, "...stink absolutely lovely. I can't imagine a bear or any other predator in the vicinity of like... a huge territory wishing to have anything to do with you. You will kill their sense of smell entirely."

"No, thank you! Grand epiphanies of life arrive on the solid ground too," 
she thought she guessed, what Penn's plan was, therefore she raised to her feet and retreated few steps back, so that in case he decided to tackle her and bring in the hot water regardless of her politely declining, she was safe. 

"But, while you soak, you could feed me some details of your grand life. That offer about a poem is very real," she suggested, grinning. "I can bet that you will be the first Blackthorn, whose feats will be sung into poetry."
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Penn hadn't really thought through what he was going to do if he did lure her into the water. Tackle her? Drown her? Eh, he was good at just winging these things. So, in spite of his lack of plan, he still frowned thoughtfully when she declined his invitation. He let himself be distracted by her comments, though. He liked the sound of an epic poem being written about him.

"Ahh, let's see... What have I done lately," he wandered back over the past few weeks, but forcefully stopped himself before his memories could slip back any further. He refused to think back on his adventures with Fennec, regardless of how epic-worthy they may be. That opened the door to questions that were best avoided.

"I did battle with a stag the other day," Penn offered, "That's how I got the cut on my back, actually."
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"Ow, okay," Wraen leaned over to see, how bad the cut was, but since she was no healer and therefore was not going to do anything about it and therefore such curiousity would be simply rude, she turned her gaze away and lifted one of her forepaws to rub her muzzle. 

"Does it hurt?" she asked, since it would totally impolite not to show any interest. "Because if you need a healer's help at any point - we can ask the neighbouring packs around. I have made few acquaintances here," she suggested. "But that's your call. Now, let me think about that poem..."
"Of all the Blackthorns that roam the lands,
Penn of Finwood is an exceptional kind.
Nothing he fears and no danger's too great,
You'll be amazed by his feats, sit down and just wait!

He's walking through forest the other day,
When a deer charges him without so much as "hey!"
And what happened next - I am not gonna brag,
But he turned that stag into a heap of rags."

"So, do you have any other adventurous stuff to add to your poem?" Wraen asked, tilting her head to the side. 

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Penn shrugged off her concern. He'd been hurt worse before and hadn't needed a healer. He was always getting banged up and bruised due to having an extremely stunted sense of self-preservation. He'd always survived his scrapes, so it never occurred to him to worry that he might not the next time. It was silly how she worried though, so he smirked. Didn't she know he was indestructible?

The Blackthorn was not at all disappointed by the poem she wrote. He was actually quite impressed and intrigued. How had she just come up with that so quickly? Everything she'd said was accurate enough, so he had no complaints there. I mean, the stag was still well and whole somewhere in the world, but its pride at least was likely in a heap of rags.

"I survived a landslide and ran down a mountain the other day," he mentioned when prompted, then pondered, "I stole food from a wolverine once and got away with it. I screwed with a coyote and got off without so much as a scratch. And that was actually the second stag I've pissed off. The first one, I admit, also got me pretty good." He pondered this for a moment. Maybe he should stop.. being so sucky at messing with stags. He resolved to get more practice in.

"Add more stuff about how handsome I am too," Penn added, happily wriggling around in the warm water.
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"When a landslide threatened to take his life,
He survived it - no big deal - and took without strife. 
He sailed down the mountain in one take,
There's nothing that this fellow cannot do or make. 
With unique instincts stealthy and keen,
He stole snacks and food from a wolverine.
Gone completely within a blink of an eye, 
All the creature could do was weep and cry. 

He scuffled with a coyote,
No - wait - there were three!
They lick their wounds still,
While here in pool he chills. 


His skirmish with deer-kind has not met its end,
It's highly unlikely that they'll ever be friends.
'cause in early days, when Penn was a wee pup,
One of the deer got him beaten up.

He's sworn to fight them 'till his very last day,
In honor of all wolfpups, who've got in nasty deer way. 
You know - what else you should keep in your view,
There's not just brave feats - he looks awesome too."

Wraen finished reciting and I would like to point out that, while it looks neat and polished on the paper, it had been far from it, when she had come up with it in real time. With all the mistakes and shifting words around to make it sound good, what's more important - that it not only rhymed, but made sense too. Now - having finished this passage about Penn - she was looking down at him with a "you are welcome" look in her eyes and a bit of curiousity of, whether the Blackthorn boy was going to be as modest as to stop there.
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"Holy shit," was all Penn could say for a moment after Wraen finished, his eyes wide with admiration, "You're good at this." He'd recognized a couple of embellishments in her tale, but quickly decided he didn't mind it. If anything, he'd just have to go out and make sure they were true. After all, he did want to actually accomplish the accomplishments he was being given credit for. And how hard would it be to find three coyotes to fuck with?

Without preamble, Penn hopped up out of the water and onto dry land. "I like it! Tell the tale across the lands! I want every wolf and creature in the Wilds to know my name," he declared as he straightened, his tail and chin lifted high and eyes gleaming with pride. "You'll have to teach it to Maia too, so she can start telling it to people, and then they can tell it to more people," he added thoughtfully, honestly considering now how to best make sure his story got told. Maybe he ought to learn it? No, that would be far too arrogant. He'd just tell people about it and suggest they go find a bard to share it with them.
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"Why thank you!" Wraen replied and did a little fancy bow to show her humbleness in receiving the praise, though... she did not particularly try to hide that teeny bit of smugness too. Somehow she thought that impressing Penn was more of a feat than hearing, how awesome she was from Arthur. Because the latter admired every word that came from her mouth, whereas getting Blackthorn boy's full attention was more of challenge. And she had mastered it.

"I will inform Maia and make sure that you go down in the history as the most legendary wolf in the world," she promised, knowing that not only her sister would find the poem funny, but would contribute to the poetry making too. She had already observed that Maia was better at finding a smooth rhythm, placing each word, where it fit the best. She on the other hand was good at finding rhymes, but her lines were like a bumpy road. They made sense in the end, but were not that pleasant on the ears. 

"Why don't you tell, what did you do and see during your travels?" she asked, tactfully leaving out Fennec's name, who Penn had not mentioned once. Nor did he show any signs of remorse that his best buddy was not with him anymore. Something had happened, but Wraen was not going to pry for information. "Surprise me!" she challenged him and, knowing that a true Blackthorn would never leave a fight - be it a literal or a figurative one - she knew (and hoped) that the boy would share.
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He was totally not thinking this, but if he ever let me be honest about his feelings in his posts, I'd tell you about how his mind went straight to Fennec as he contemplated the spread of his tales like wildfire across Teekon. He imagined her chatting up a stranger and them telling her all about Penn Blackthorn's adventures. He imagined her full of regret that she hadn't come with him--that she hadn't at least tried to stop him. Maybe she would try to find him and get herself into trouble, which he'd of course heroically show up to get her out of...

Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to be honest. So he was definitely not thinking about her when Wraen asked her next question, distracting him from some thought about... I don't know... Pizza. Penn gave her a quick look, his mind racing straight to his adventures with Fenn. He dismissed those memories, even though they were the best he had. He'd stolen some time away from her here and there, so it was those moments he forced into his mind. "Plenty of things," he answered, fixing his easy smile on his face as he dropped to his haunches, "You ever seen a geyser before?"
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Had Wraen known what Penn was not telling either her or his narrator, she would have understood him completely. How many times in her youth had she rushed off, stamped her paws and imagined all the grand scenarios, where she would burry that very person, who had made her angry, in the ground. It was very human (wolf) to feel that way and, even if that target did not care that much, it gave the other one motivation needed to move on and be awesome. Just in spite. 

"I may have an inkling, but do fill me in," she asked him. It may have been that she had known the term already or seen the actual hot water column coming out of the ground and going straight up in the heaven. But four years worth of threadlog is too long to go page through and find out. So - let's say that, if she had no idea, what a geyser was, she listened curiously. If she did, she humoured Penn to let him shine and... still listened attentively.
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Penn felt a twinge of pride when it appeared for the moment that Wraen didn't know something he did. He smirked a little, but chose not to rub it in with any more than the superior look on his muzzle (which is just sort of how his face always looks, honestly).

"It's basically a big hole or a crack in the ground," he explained, "Every once in a while, a spray of water will come shooting straight out of it up towards the sky. It's wild. I saw one while I was travelling once, though it only shot off a couple of times before it went dormant again."

And Penn had waited for it. He'd actually run to fetch @Fennec and dragged her back so she could experience it in her own way (and also to laugh at her when she jumped out of her skin from the sudden noise). But it hadn't gone off again with her there, and so Penn had ended up being the one mocked. He held that memory for a moment, then tucked it away back in that box in his mind he didn't like to open.
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"Well, if I did not know better - now that you have told me - and I encountered this thing on my own, I would feel pretty confident that this is an actual proof to dragons existing. If there are dragons that can fly, why can't there be dragons that live underground and splurt water out now and then. Just for fun. Or... maybe that's the way they hunt," Wraen began rather seriously and then her imagination train got in motion and was running down the tracks on its own. She pulled breaks and asked it to stop briefly.

"What else did you encounter that I might have never ever seen in my life before?" she wanted to know more and was not pretending to do so. She was an aging wolf by the life expectancy standards in the wilds, she had seen plenty and there was 100000000 more she had never seen or encountered.

They had a very nice and entertaining conversation for the rest of their stay by the pools.