The Heartwood They say Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow.

@Osiris

The tempo of something thin and lissome dashing through the weald startles a cluster of starlings from their roost. They burst from cover in a frenzy of screeching, gathering a moment later within the upper boughs of another old tree. The stag does not stop; although the noise spooks him further, thus he veers in another direction and vanishes in to the dark.

A few moments later something white-washed streaks along its path, sides heaving.

Mesa had been tracking the damned thing for hours. He knew it was stupid to try and take on something like a mule deer on his own. He was hungry, it looked young—he'd thought it was a doe first, it lacked the crown of a true stag—and in the end he'd misjudged its capabilities.

He eyed the birds as they shuffled their little bodies overhead, glaring at them as if it were their fault, then turned his attention back to the sun-dappled woodland to stride across the new growth that sprouted in his path, either oblivious to it or uncaring, and tried to sniff out a trail.

Osiris had been drawn to the Heartwood like a moth to the flame, enticed to explore by the various prey-scents beyond the reaches of his claim. With his nose low to the ground, he trotted through the woodlands at a leisurely pace. There wasn't a particular trail he followed and instead decided to investigate before decided what to pursue. 

Movement up ahead caught Osiris' attention, and he lifted his head to see that he wasn't alone; a pale silhouette stalked the sun-dappled woodlands. Curious and knowing that the odds taking down prey were greater with two wolves, he chuffed to grab the other wolf's attention.

A chuff prompted him to freeze where he stood, unsure of what he'd heard. He sniffed the air and looked around, taking a minute or so before he noticed the other wolf. They were cloaked in a patchwork of earth tones that helped them blend in to the autumnal setting—but they were striding closer, which made Mesa nervous. He didn't have the best experience with other wolves.

The fur at his nape prickled, his tail lashed the grass. Mesa stared after the stranger shrewdly and then gave a boof as a reply; not wanting to speak, lest he further ruin his efforts to hunt. The deer was long gone by this point, having fled the wood in favor for the open hillside through the north-most trails.

Mesa's sharp expression caused Osiris to delay his approach, suddenly uncertain whether or not he should approach the stranger. Testing his luck, Osiris decided to slink forward a step to gauge Mesa's reaction. Once he stilled again, Osiris woofed in reply with a wag of his tail for good measure. 

I want to help—his expression and body-language said.

Mesa watched the stranger for a moment, but grew bored pretty quickly. The wind didn't betray any further clues of the deer and he doubted either of them could catch up to it in time; if it was out in the open then it would spot them quickly. In this instance two-versus-one was detrimental, as it would surely bolt if it had not already.

The boy tsk'd, looking askew from the thick-set agouti and through the trees, eyes glazed, and then turned towards the stranger and with a resigned sigh, approached them. His head was level with his shoulders as he drifted along.

Shit outta luck, Mesa drawled. Had they encountered one-another sooner then the deer would have been a prime target. He stopped, sniffed, finding clues emanating from the stranger's coat in such strong waves he need not get too close. None that he recognized. You from around here?

The tsk told everything Osiris needed to know regarding the potential hunt; the odds were not in their favor today. "Shame," he remarked with a sigh, as he picked himself up and out of his crouch. "It would have been nice to bring home some meat." Their stockpiles were steadily growing, but Osiris knew that Winter was near and that they needed to be prepared. 

"Yeah," he replied, motioning over his shoulder in the direction of the glen. "I lead a pack in the neighboring territory—it's called Firefly Glen." He sniffed the air then, wondering if he could recognize where Mesa came from. He couldn't. "Are you?"

Seemed a little... Young, to be leading anything. Then again they appeared to be well built and of similar age to himself, so Mesa didn't comment on that aloud. His ears pivoted attentively as a name was shared.

He scoffed slightly at the question. In the mountains. That was vague—perhaps too vague. The place doesn't exist anymore. Been alone... A while, now. Which accounted for the disjointed speech. Mesa grimaced, remembering his one encounter with a pack in this area had involved his sister.

You ever live in the forest north of here? That Neversplinter, or whatever? Maybe Simmik and her group had migrated away from their claim or something.

For a moment, Osiris became suspicious of Mesa; the only mountain-dwelling band he knew of was The Saints of the Dying Lights. His nerves quickly unwound when he found out the other's pack no longer existed. It was a shame that he'd been without a pack—especially since the colder months were approaching. 

Osiris shook his head in reply to the next question. "No, never have. I come from Moonspear—the mountain closest to Neverwinter," he answered. "They're our neighbors, though." Curious, he wondered, "Did you ever live there?"

Hmm. Maybe the world was bigger than he thought. 

No, I passed through... Ages ago. He commented casually. There was a brief reaction to what he'd said: almost like static rolling through the stranger at the mention of the mountain. They spoke of one Mesa had never heard of and his head gave a little tilt, then a shake.

How many bodies you got? Enough to take down a few deer...? It was worth it to ask, thought Mesa. This hunt had been a total failure, but with the right combination of bodies maybe he could get himself fed. Or, better yet, survive the winter since it was almost upon them. 

He had an expectant look upon his face, a silent question poised in the expression.

"How many bodies you got? Enough to take down a few deer...?" the stranger asked. 

"Plenty," Osiris responded, recognizing the expectancy in the other's expression. He wouldn't reveal too much, as they were still estranged; still, he found the other's cast intriguing. "We're planning to take on a heard soon, and that's partially the reason I'm here today," the forest was abundant with prey. Osiris had wondered if any of their herds had strayed to these woodlands.

That sounded good enough to him.

Any wolf hoping to survive has to be a good hunter, so I won't go vouching for myself. I'm alive, so I can clearly hunt. He rambled a little bit, trying to push past the awkwardness of knowing a deer had slipped out of his grasp moments prior. Not a strong backing for his claim. I can fight too, if you need anyone to defend the land. Sounds like you don't need anything at this rate, though.

He didn't really know what to say, and huffed. My name is Mesa. Mesa Sandraudiga. You have room for one more? Best to come right out and ask. If he was denied, whatever... He'd move on, maybe head towards the mountains or go on to the coast, find somewhere new and make a go of it.

Fade with your post?

 
Mesa had been successful in his self-advertisement, and Osiris nodded approvingly. "We could always use more skilled hunters and additional eyes on the borders," he agreed. "Our neighbors had a tendency of trespassing," Osiris explained then, motioning for Mesa to follow with a flick of his muzzle as he turned in the direction of Firefly Glen. 

"We do, welcome to the pack, Mesa," he said then with a grin. "I'll tell you all about the pack and help you settle in," and with that said, he set their leisurely pace towards their home. Osiris lead Mesa back to Firefly Glen, and did all that he could to ensure that his newest recruit was properly settled in.