Dawnlark Plains People Change

For @Sequoia!

Though the imminent threat of Sagtannet had been diffused, their presence kept the islander on alert. Meares Island had never disputed with another pack before and there certainty hadn’t been any whisperings of war. Njord, fire-branded and hot-blooded, had told Rosalyn he’d like to see the wolves of Nova Peak dare try to remove them from Dragoncrest. They’d be met with Njord’s fangs, unexperienced as he may be.

He circled the Tangle southbound into neutral territory. The marks of Sagtannet’s wolves could still be detected from where they had encroached upon the territories near Rusalka… but their marks were fading, assault abandoned. His ruff prickled, taking their scent, and he continued Eastward to do a little reconnaissance and see if they still bled out from Nova Peak. He gave them a wide birth, crossing into open plains. Redtail Rise stood before the great mountain in the distance. The dusky air was silent. Had they left their post?

Sequoia needed some space after the most recent incident with Mahler and the shit stain that was her new pack mate. She did not like the new guy one bit, and she doubted she ever would. How Mahler thought he was a good choice, she would never understand. Perhaps it had been wrong of her to challenge his authority, but it was good to know her new leader's limits. Knowing how much she could push his boundaries meant she knew when to retreat. He had not chased her out, and she lived another day at the boulder, sure to avoid the shit stain as much as she could.

She had come to a rather bleak looking place that matched her mood. Sequoia thought of Kiwi, of Crow, of shit stain (even though she tried very hard not to think of all of these folks who caused her so much strife).

Luckily for her, she spotted a rather pretty looking wolf in the distance. Nobody could hide out here when there was nothing to hide behind, under, or on top of. He had the most bizarre coloration she'd ever seen, sans herself, and she couldn't help but approach him with a light step.

Well aren't you a pretty sight, she said, grinning all the while.

Njord pressed on into the silent night. Look for smells. Listen for wolves. Wolf… Girl… Woman… Pretty fur… Pretty face… Try as he might, Valmúa bled into the islander’s mind. His recent escapade with Merlin and the Northern woman of the Watch left him with a poignant emptiness. No – focus!! Learn about Sagtannet…

Her golden mane.

Butterflies filled his tummy, thinking about actually following through on the first date he had proposed. What gift would he bring her? If only he could’ve known the difference between love and lust, Njord might’ve known better to stay clear. He looked up at a twinkling star.

Suddenly, as if to answer a tiny prayer, a voice called out to him – no, cat called.  Njord spun around, a stupid grin on his mug. For a brief moment he forgot about his troubles. A woman approached him, a specter of dappled white. Njord had never seen a piebald wolf before. Was she really a wolf at all?

“Who, me?” Njord asked. The man glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was actually talking to him. “Well shiver MY timbers, she thinks I be pretty as a pearl.” The tip of his red tail curled with a wag. As the stranger drew nearer, he could see her two toned citrus gaze. She was an absolute beauty and it left the islander begging to ask, why hadn’t he come to the mainland sooner?! “Pearls are quite rare, you know,” he added.

Sequoia looked past him, pretending to see somebody else.

No, I meant that guy!

She laughed right after, giving away the joke soon after she let it come to life. She felt that rush of good feelings that happened whenever she got some validation. And gods knew she could use some of that right about now. Ever since she'd gotten here, she'd only been met with rude wolves. Well, aside from Mahler. It was nice to have somebody who played along for once.

You're rarity indeed, she said, taking another step toward him now that she was certain he wasn't a threat.

So what's a pretty pearl like you doing out here all alone? she asked, slumping down on the ground in a relaxed prone position.

Surely a rarity like you must have girls flocking to him left and right.

The drifter’s jeer made Njord laugh at himself, the woman’s good humor infectious. She took a step closer and the islander followed suit. He enjoyed being flattered, for a change. Back home, Aegir received all the praise while Njord, the little brother, had been sidelined. Was he – gasp –finally coming into his own? The mainland women were bold in a way he had never experienced before (Erzulie, Rosalyn, Valmúa, and now this one…).

Njord got close enough to take scent, careful to be polite and not make contact… although his attentive posture alluded to his boyish excitement. He realized, then, that this was a Sagtannet wolf. A wolf he was pointedly instructed to not interact with.

Oops…

Despite this epiphany, Njord was already under her feel-good spell.

“Aye, t’girls always try to plunder me booty, but I make sure to have ‘em give a good chase, first,” he joked, laying on the buccaneer accent thick for funny points, “Hav’ta make ‘em work for it.” He only paused for a few moments and then broke the act. IRL, Njord had zero swagger and empty pockets for pick up lines. “Nahhhh, unfortunately I’m jus’ a salty seabiscuit tryin’ ta get my sealegs in Teekon. The only girls be flockin’ ta me are ta gulls.”

She laid down and appeared eager to continue their conversation, but Njord hoped she wouldn’t run for the hills with his next line. His red arse dropped into a seated position. “I’m out scoutin’ ta see what’s become of our neighbors, Sagtannet, ‘an found you.” He cocked his head in cautious curiosity but followed up with a chuckle. “Can’t say I was advised ‘ta meet you, though… Not sure our capt’ns would be jolly ‘bout it.” his voice trailed, caught between the lines of diplomacy and self-interest. He liked this wolf and wanted to get to know her, but he hated that he was going against his leader’s instructions. “M’names Njord Sveijarn-Corten, what’s yours?” he asked, remembering to include his surname as Kaertok had.

She laughed easily at his mention of plundering the booty. She couldn't help but feel at ease in his presence, glad to finally feel like this after so much conflict. She needed a win, and this appeared to be in. Well, this and chasing off that roving bitch who had insulted her at the borders. Sequoia had been glad that she'd gotten rid of that problem before it had a chance to fester.

Well, I guess I'll be the first of many, she teased. But she meant it, too. He was a cutie patootie.

Mahler's calling it Rivenwood now, she said, wondering what sort of bad blood he'd made with the locals. It wasn't much of a concern for her, seeing as she had no reason to dislike Mr. Redtail over here.

I'm Sequoia, she replied when asked for her name. Moved back to this area about a week ago. Needed to switch things up again.

The seafarer listened closely with an open expression, enjoying his guest’s company and her flirtatious comments. Mahler… Rivenwood… Sequoia. A woman returning to her homeland. He wondered what history she had here and what had prompted the move. If she was fresh to these territories, maybe Rusalka’s old quarrels could be put to rest. Njord could be an optimistic fellow when his compass was set straight.

“I take it Maher’s yer leader?” he noted rhetorically, gaze traveling North as if he was peering into Rivenwood. “I’m jus’ a greenhorn too,” he said, stitching similarities together so they might find common ground. “Been runnin’ with Sapphique for ‘bout a month now… they’re good people ‘an I like livin’ by tha sea. Needed a change meself from my homeland on Meares Island… its South of here.”

He gave her a once over, admiring the mottling of brown against the white of her fur. “You run away from home too?” he asked with an impish smile.

Sequoia nodded at his spoken assumption about Mahler. She wouldn't consider herself a "greenhorn," but she was willing to bet that many others did. That didn't mean she had to agree with them. Njord explained that he had only been there a little while, moving away from where he had been born (or at least lived for quite some time, if she had to guess).

When he asked if she'd run away from home, Sequoia flinched. It was only a moment, missed unless he was paying close attention, but it passed as quickly as it had come.

Something like that, she replied. The gene pool where I'm from is in dire need of new blood, so I figured I would make room for that.

And, along the way, perhaps she could spread her own genes around.

You get my 100th post!

Njord did not pick up on her subtle balk, unaware he might have hit a nerve. “How kind of ya,” he quipped. Dispersing was usual for their kind, but Njord never considered leaving Meares Island to be for the benefit of providing space for new blood. Maybe he just wasn’t as considerate as Sequoia… he had left to live his own life, and did not think about the consequences (good or bad) for his family.

Despite missing her first flinch, Njord was at the ready when she alluded to spreading genes – especially since she had been flirtatious from the start. Though Valmúa preoccupied his mind and heart, Njord could not resist a little banter. “Hopin’ to sew yer own garden in tha process?” Njord jeered, rising to all fours as his red tailed wagged. “Didn't take ya fer a farmer, miss Sequoia," his paws hit the ground in a play bow, beckoning her to partake in a playful romp.

Last one from me! We should have another once the drama with Legion is settled, hehe.

She winked when he mentioned that she was kind. Once, she had been super syrupy sweet. These days, she was more like a spicy pickled pepper. Crow had, for all intents and purposes, crumpled any version of her that there once was. Now Sequioa was far more bitter and salty about things, and she tended to take first impressions very seriously. Lucky for Njord, he'd passed the first impression test with flying colors.

In fact, he went in for a play bow, which bemused her. As much as she wanted to join in, she knew that keeping men interested involved them wanting more. She rushed him, ever-so-briefly, then pulled away and raced back toward Rivenwood. She knew where he lived, and he knew where she lived, and so she thought they would meet again. Best to end things on a good note, she thought.

Yes please!

Sequoia feigned a rush which sent Njord from a down-dog onto his hind legs, ready to fox-trot with the piebald woman. However, she quickly dashed away back towards Rivenwood. A lopsided smile lit up the seafarer’s features as he watched her painted figure disappear into the forest. Sequoia knew just how to toy with men – and it worked. He would return to Sapphique, but his mind would be on Plains thinking about the wolf he had met.