Hideaway Strath salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt

Smeared blood of a sacrifice made earlier in the equinox stained select surfaces along the border. Whether on wood or stone, the sanguine murals conveyed a wordless message to the Wilds that was much stronger than any scent marked along the perimeters.
 
The painted crimson did not seem to faze her, even if it was from the blood of another wolf.
 
To be saintly was to be acknowledged as virtuous and regarded as being in heaven after death. That was just one of the definitions of the word and seemed to be fitting for Zsuzsa’s circumstances. This was the nirvana she sought after. To bring virtue and purpose to her life again. What was of her previous life and past, she laid to rest. Escorted by the Grandmaster himself, he was the beacon of light where she had been at her darkest; figuratively and literally, as the two met each other in the throes of a dark cave. Even now, Zsuzsa kept her habit of lurking during the midnight hours. She was surveying areas alone around the Strath to make a potential den out of. It would certainly take time to become acclimated to socializing again fully but was ready to reintroduce herself into a hierarchy again.
 
The Raven lingered overhead, occasionally hopping from branch to branch in the partially forested area, even during these late hours. As largely disengaged as she had been toward the Raven, a part of her was glad something, even if it was another creature, was bearing witness of her transformation from lone wolf to pack wolf again. As abnormal as it was for the Raven to even be active during these hours, there was a solace felt from it watching her from afar. There could very well be other hidden eyes not of a beady gaze observing her from the shadows as well, but Zsuzsa paid no mind even if there was. She surveyed a dugout beneath a large tree and nimble paws worked diligently, quietly, digging at the soil.

Nice to be rping with you again! :)

Endlessly be strode through the darkness of night. His black coat swallowing him up in the shadows in manner of which he would forever and always prefer. As a man with eyes seemingly only made to adapt to the glow of the moon above. But it would seem even the moon's light would be held hostage,  dark clouds thickening in the skies. 

There is a flutter of wings and Hemlocke looks upwards to the canopy, a single raven out among the night. It is he which brings the thinman's attention to the woman at the tree's base, digging out a hollow for herself, be it for a cache or den. Maybe even our of boredom. He watches as the quiet creeper he always were, observing, sniffing. She held Donovan's scent on her which led him aware of her new prescene as a member to these woodlands. 

She was very tall, tall as Donovan and Nyra, tall as himself. Though did not hold the bulk of their leaders now were she as thin as himself. She harbored a lean figure of subtle, rounded curves of a dark amazon elegance. The hellhound was intrigued by the darkness she wore however, how she fit easily with the shadows- as himself, a man only ever and able to move amongst the night's watch.

Eee, glad to know you are here. :] (FYI, Ville Valo brings me back to high school days)

The Raven in the canopy puffed its neck feathers and clicked its beak in an odd clamor. While the Mackenzie disregarded interacting with the Raven, she did subtly pick up on peculiar calls over time. The Raven was a background noise she could never escape and knew when it was this Raven constantly shadowing her from above, even amongst a flock of other ravens. Her ears flicked and rose to their full attention. She heard this series of clicks before, often when either the Raven or herself were in proximity of another being.
 
With the Raven’s call, her ears also heard her dull heartbeat. The deafening silence of the night amplified the sound of her heart’s rhythm; not necessarily in nervous cadence, but a lively pulse. She felt the prickle of her hackles raise, feeling without seeing there was another presence near. While she knew she was in the safe confines of the Straths and the Saints were secure in their own safeguard, it would take getting used to being acclimated to other wolves again. There were habits of the lone wolf she couldn’t readily shake right away.
 
Her attention diverted from her dugout, steel eyes scanning the area’s perimeter. She focused on a set of floating eyes, similar to the crimson hue she saw splattered along the borders. Zsuzsa never encountered a wolf with red eyes, so the sight took her off guard. From what she could make from her distance was he was angular and slim. Ears larger than that of a wolf. The overall symmetry appeared different. Upon meeting Donovan, he was a walking anomaly with his curled tail. Zsuzsa recalled Donovan speaking about an infinite number of wolfdog breeds in existence, some calling the Saints home. It would be another thing to get used to.
 
She was in a trance with his red gaze, undecided of how to react to such a sight.

Yaaasssss, Glad someone is on my emo/goth days level. Bringing it back with Ol' Locke here.

The raven clicks, calling out in warning to the wolf which he seemingly so watched over. He would betray Hemlocke's placement, aback from the other wolf as he lingered to contently watch her in the shadows of the trees around them. Bloodied eyes flicker upwards and the only reaction is but a twitch of his upper lip, annoyed only by being told on, so that he could not enjoy the pleasure of the woman's company without actually trying to make an attempt at being a normal social individual. Though forever, the pack wolf would long for companionship, yet shy from it, if only due to his own lack of self confidence brought on by his hatred to his own existence.

When his gaze falls downward, the hellhound is met with the attention of the dark wolf. And a true, powerful, beautiful wolf she was, with a ferocity and wildness in her moonlit gaze he couldn’t ever even wish to obtain. His barreled chest heaves with heavy breath and he steps back, as though to hide himself by the trees around him. He is curious and cautious, longing and yet fearful.

In his former months alone (months and months, as she had so suffered) Hemlocke would have done what he had done time and time before- run. Now a pack wolf and trying to be accustom as such (though he only interacted with a few of his pack mates directly) he tried to find relation with those, however subtle, he would now call pack mates. Still, the hellhound for the time being simply stared on, a tilt of his skull and very much so looking like [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/f9/96/...f16fe2.gif]this[/url].

The Raven was habitually a source of irritation to the Mackenzie herself, often ruining hunts and evasion. Seems like there was a benefit to having the Raven around for once. The steel of her eyes hardened as she kept them transfixed on the burgundy of his, zeroing in all senses upon him. He was a spindly phantom in the night, the spear-like shape of his ears with his bloodshot eyes giving him a devilish façade. The moonlight made his angles even more pronounced and chiseled. Her thoughts flashed again to the blood lined bark of the borders, wondering if he especially had a part in it.
 
His scent was thick of the Saints, well established. Thin as he looked, he appeared of good health and untainted with any disease from afar. The crook of his head with the vermillion of his eyes spoke louder in their intent observation of her than any words could. She could feel her foreclaws flex and dig into the soil beneath her paws, a gesture of anxious uncertainty as to what he was so intently leering at her for. Zsuzsa was bewildered further when he retreated back into the cover of the shadows.

Uncertain if this was a higher-ranking member putting her through a test as being the newest Saint, Zsuzsa stood her ground. ”You look like you never saw another wolf before.” She finally spoke in her alto lilt. Funny enough, she thought she was the odd one gawking in stunned silence at him for being the anomaly he was.

Nyra would like to join in on the fun :> 

Lately, the pitch-white behemoth had found more enjoyment in the darkness than the light of the sun. 
Though direct sunlight made Nyra look like a Seraphim, heavenly and fierce...the moon's glow more or less made her look like a ghost. Perhaps a priestess of the night, despite the fresh-snow colorlessness of her fur. 

The dark hours were just peaceful. Much more so than any time of day under the claim of the sun. 
The quiet was nice, soothing. 
Plus, she wanted to get in a night patrol anyway.

Not much later than Hemlocke had appeared, the Harbringer stopped a few paces from his side, Nyra's inferno gold gaze seared into Zsuzsa. As burning as her eyes were, they were also cold. 
Perhaps akin to dry ice, in a sense. 

She stayed silent for the moment, figuring the two wraithwolves would know she was there without her speaking.

Partially because of the raven in the trees. Mostly because Nyra wasn't exactly a wolf that didn't draw attention in some manner.

Thralled he was by her for moments longer, to drink in the curvature of her figure and the full height of her being. Of course he had seen other black wolves before and one might wonder why he did not look at himself in such a light when instead he disliked himself so. But it was she, of all wolf and nothing else, of pure black as his own self, matched by the shadows but also with eyes pale, bright, shining through the darkness as did the moon in the heavens. 

A small smile, sheepish at her words, but he is left uncertain as to what to say. He thought he might scurry away, unsure what he could say that might be worth the woman's time. I'm sorry, I... Nyra saves the day as it were, to break him transfixed on the newcomer and all the beauty she wore. Like a ghost come to bring the hellhound back to his post, Nyra comes to stand not far from Hemlocke's side. 

Fall does his ears come to his skull and he stretches his neck out to her, to touch his leathery nose her temple and huffs in silent greeting into her fur. Pulling away from the Harbinger, he turns a bloodied gaze back to the shadow. With Nyra's silent stare down, he scrambles to make things less tense for the newcomer. His deep voice clears as he finds the words to say... I'm Hemlocke. And so he falls short with introduction only.

Suddenly a prodigious third wolf joined the midnight society of the two black wolves, this one cloaked in a stark ghost white with a frigid yellow gaze. Her presence cut off the oncoming pardon from the red-eyed male and even the Raven’s attention in the trees was pulled to the female, offering a short string of odd click calls. Her size far outweighed both of them combined, almost bear-like. She was clearly a higher-ranked wolf judging by the way the male suddenly dropped his ears and acknowledged her presence. This caused Zsuzsa to dip her muzzle and lower her ears in a courteous nod toward the female, unsure of customs of the Saints when it came to greeting higher-ranking members but wanted to show there were no ill intentions with the assembly of the two darker wolves. Zsuzsa was not aware of how far up the hierarchy she was, but her display and demeanor alone clearly showed it.
 
The ogling of the male from afar and the uncertainty of the encounter began to dissipate instantly. Announcing himself as Hemlocke, the Mackenzie pushed aside any further apprehension from him from the time being. ”Zsuzsa.” She responded, her silver gaze shifting to both of them to address her name. Her gaze briefly traveled back to the dugout before focusing back on the black and white pair. ”Am looking to set up a temporary den for the time being. Would this area be in a lot of foot traffic?” Zsuzsa attempted to make conversation with them both. Seeing as they both easily appeared, perhaps this was a frequented area of the territory. Being the newest Saint, Donovan dropped her in on her own to explore the Saints territory. Hopefully, Hemlocke or the female could lend a helping paw. There was much to become accustomed to, both in mannerism, terrain, and being accepting of the hybrids here.

To Hemlocke's silent hello gesture, Nyra returned the hellhound's greeting with a brief, gentle lick to his nose as he pulled away. 

The Raven in the trees with its odd calls drew the Harbringer's attention. She canted her head to the side slightly, watching the corvid for a few moments before her eyes fell back to the midnight woman's face as Hemlocke introduced himself. 
This newcomer knew her manners, which pleased Nyra as she offered her name. Zsuzsa. 

"Welcome to the hunt, Zsuzsa. I am Nyra, Harbringer of the Saints." The Shieldmaiden offered in turn with a warm, welcoming smile that heavily contrasted the icy burning of her golden gaze. 
She would explain the rank she held if asked, but..only then.

So Nyra's response, licking his snout he would wave the tail behind him, relaxed at his backside as usual but unnaturally curled up at the end for any full fledged wolf. Much of his unknown German Shepherd upbringing showed. The newcomer gave her name, to which her silvery eyes moved between them. Eyes which shined like the stars in the night sky which was her body. A little smile touches the corners of the half-breed's boxy muzzle. Nyra at his side introduces herself, welcoming her to the pack. She does not however answer her question and the 'night stalker' (serial killer name intended) realized after a moment that she was leaving him to do that. 

To her question, the thinmam shook his head silently to her in a 'no'. He juts his muzzle towards the middle of the mountain chain which arced around them. The heart of the territory is not far, so you should be good here. Many of our ranks are guardians and so they spend much of their time around the outskirts of the territory. Not many of them spent the majority of their time in the territory itself, but around it and the adjoining  lands. Donovan, Nyra, Derg...they were usually out and about. It was likely so Nyra had been doing such that when she came upon them. Would you like a paw? He offered and his gaze drifted to the densite she was working on.

Introducing herself as Nyra, her hospitable grin betrayed her piercing yellow gaze. Harbinger sounded like a specialized rank of the sort. ”Glad to be here.” Zsuzsa responded earnestly, recognizing how she described the Saints as the hunt and how peculiar that sounded for a pack. ”Any major preparations to expect for the coming winter?” Zsuzsa asked of Nyra. Assuming she was high in the ranks of the hierarchy, it would be good to know as a newcomer to the pack what to expect in the next coming months.
 
Her attention turned back to Hemlocke, to which the hound-like wolf took the lead on describing the inner workings of the Strath. Hemlocke took on an entirely different persona from Zsuzsa’s first impression of him just moments ago. From a mere shadow in the distance staring silently at her, he was now informative and engaging. Her ears twitched as he explained the details of the localities, to which she found he was quite thorough in his explanation. A courteous grin passed over her dark muzzle. ”That is good to know. Any significant spots around the Strath to explore?” Zsuzsa inquired, appreciative in Hemlocke’s rationale of the Strath and eager to learn more of what he could share.
 
Hemlocke then offered a helping paw in her dugout. Silver eyes glance at the mound she dug so far and then back to him, with her eyes drifting to Nyra as well. ”You are more than welcome, either of you are. Won’t take much work since it may be temporary.” Zsuzsa would leave the option up to them. It was nice to know based on Hemlocke’s offer the pack was willing to assist a pack member in need.

The Harbinger hmmed a tad, considering the questions Zsuzsa asked in case Hemlocke left anything out. 
"We settled here in the autumn, thus...we haven't explored all of the Strath well enough to uncover any hidden oasises within." Nyra sighed. A genuine disappointment that they hadn't found any subterritories to note yet. 
"As for tasks, especially with snow on the horizon; patrol and mark the borders and our immediate neighboring lands as much as you can, and fill food caches any chance you get." 

Other than that, the rest of time spent was up to each wolf. Some, like Nyra and Kynareth, chose to train. And so on.
"As for the likelihood of being disturbed here, probably not. But, we'll see. Once we settle in more." 

Hemlocke was quiet, his dark eyes majorly looking to the tall, lean and elegantly built woman before him and he would watch Nyra at the corner of his eye as she went onto explain how with recently moving into this region, they were still working to heavily mark their area to secure it as their own and not only this, to prepare for the winter to come by hunting much and storing their caches for the days they were not so lucky on the hunt. He did not know if Zsuzsa fueled her adrenaline rush and blood wishes by hunting or by fighting, or if she was one of the few who did not such cravings as himself. Soon he assumed, as long as she decided to stay, he would find out. A rather quiet man, he was found more so learning of his pack-mates by observing them then by finding out the easy way and asking.

The valley here is split in half by a river own its middle which branches out to the west where you’ll find a bog. Even as he speaks, his voice is smooth, low and deepened, maybe naturally or maybe by how little he had used it. In fact, he had not a need for his voice so much since his mother had still been alive. But he found purpose now, a use for his knowledge to escape that mind of his. Half forested, half much more open. Dove is our medic, he didn’t mention himself, however. He did love to collect herbs and did so often, though for the time being brought them all to Dove for her to work with the patients herself. Getting close to others, even in just a physical 'I'ma heal you manner' was even difficult for Hemlocke more then he would like to admit. Her den-site is at the core of our home. Which was still very much so being worked on, granted the move and all.

Then, at the dark wolf's willingness to take on his offer, Hemlocke's red eyes would be left to turn to Nyra in the same manner as which the newcomer's had. There was a chance their Harbinger had more important manners to tend to and for that Locke would understand. So passing the large white wraith a glance, he then slowly came to approach Zsuzsa and her shallow dug out at the base of the tree. He'd make sure to give her as much space as he could whilst long legs began at work.

No need to match length, just got carried away. And 100th post!

Nyra alluded the Saints were relatively new in this neck of the woods. Zsuzsa quietly pondered why the Saints decided to relocate. Judging by Nyra’s mention and tone of revealing the sub-territories within the Strath, it was better to leave the past in the past for now. The tasks expected of members were fairly straightforward. Her ears flicked at the mention of building prey supply. That was a task Zsuzsa could easily take on. ”I’ll head out the next sunset to track what’s in the area.” Not only had she previously been a starved lone wolf that could use better meals than rodents, she also wanted a functioning purpose again in life.
 
At Nyra’s mention of keeping their territory undisturbed, there was a distant seriousness in her silver gaze. ”That was a promise Kynareth made to me. I hope that is the case.” She was tired of always being on edge, always wondering who was following her and if she would have the capacity to fight on her own. Kynareth had been so convincing at the time. So far it seemed like he was able to back up the convictions he made…
 
Her gaze then turned the hellhound who had been quietly observing at Nyra’s side until it was his turn to provide information. She mentally made a note about the river splitting the valley, keeping in mind for future hunts. A female by the name of Dove was the medic, which was good to know for future injuries. ”And you?” Zsuzsa inquired about Hemlocke, noting the subtle remissness of him leaving his calling unmentioned. He was cloaked in an air of mystery that intrigued her. He seemed so well-spoken, different from his initial impression.
 
Hemlocke began assisting with the den, to which a sway of her tail was given in appreciation. She too glanced toward Nyra, wondering if she would assist or be on her way, to which Zsuzsa would understand if needs be. Her paws then began back at diligent work on the den.

Hesitating at first, Nyra shrugged and padded up to offer her aid in digging out the den, offering a welcoming glance in Zsuzsa's direction.

Shit response from Locke. :/

Together then they would work, the two aged members offering welcome to the newcomer with the temporary densite here. When winter came she would need something deep, sturdy. He didnt know if she would do so here or find shelter within a cave along the mountain slopes. Either way, Locke was the time to watch, observe and he would find out in time. 

She questions his own skill placement in these lands and he smiles hesitantly. I do whatever is needed... He trailed, but wanting to sound like he did little for them. I gather much for @Dove. Which he quite enjoyed and while he searched, he would of course report to those that hunted often if he sighted herds or alert others of trespassers. He supposed all in all he was a caregiver to them, as he helped the night wolf now. The Gods... he pauses, unsure of her own beliefs. Brought me here to do good with all that I can, I think. I hope they bless our move here.

I think this is a good place to fade out this thread. :]

Grateful that Hemlocke and Nyra would assist, the three of them began digging at the ground fervently as they conversed. Nyra stuck to the task at paw without offering any such commentary, perhaps to give Hemlocke a little more leeway to elaborate on his skills. Zsuzsa would be glad to listen as it was a moment to bond with them both. 
 
Amid the digging, Zsuzsa held a keen ear to Hemlocke’s explained purpose for the Saints. Sounded like he was one of the well-rounded members, ordered to do what was necessary. He mentioned Dove again, to which Zsuzsa quietly noted in the back of her mind that Dove had to be the renowned Medic of the pack she would have to meet one day. Sounded like he was something akin to Dove's assistant in supplying medics for the Saints but he did mention he was helpful where he was needed.
 
He also mentioned the Gods blessing these new lands they called home. Ironic as he looked devilish in nature, but appearances could be deceiving. She was curious as to what Gods he particularly worshipped and the history of the Saints overall. Perhaps there would be a better time and place to hear the history, as it struck her curious. The three would continue to dig through the night until dawn would peak when she would thank them both and they would all go about their ways to conduct pack business for the coming winter.