Broken Antler Fen It's all there in the gospels

While the weather had begun to improve slightly, the hunting situation hadn't, and with the pack's numbers dwindling, Jackalope found himself again possessed by the urge to range and wander away from an established territory. Not that he sought to abandon his packmates- though the idea had begun to settle in his mind, given the fact that so many others had wandered off as well. The wails and howls of wolves from the Glen had haunted their forest- quiet, but mournful nonetheless. He suspected something might've happened to them- but he didn't want to get involved, so he avoided the Glen altogether as he made his way South toward the mountains. 

He knew to avoid the tall peak of Moonspear, as he had no interest in crossing paths with wolves from that strange alliance, as he felt they might be to blame for the prey shortage. Too many packs in one area- it made him grumpy. So he set out in search of a meal and had been tracking a rabbit when he discovered the unmistakeable tracks and markings left behind by a wolf claiming a territory range. He sniffed the scents, and meandered about in the area, dithering along the borders so that he might get an idea of how many wolves were living in the area- hoping to go unnoticed as he gathered what information he could about the pack.

While the pack formation was still in process, Wraen took upon herself to do her share at the borders, even if it was neither her favourite thing to do, nor had she the bladder control to divide the valuable pee in small portions in order to cover a large distance. Instead she made herself useful, by sniffing around and taking notice of, who had come by during the night, and whether there was anything/anyone potentially dangerous that her packmates should be warned about.

Luck would have that she would notice the gray-clad stalker before it caught sight of her. With him appearing somewhat insecure, she found a good ambush to settle down and observe him for a while, before making her presence known. It was amusing, really, to be able to watch someone without them realizing it. Gave you sense of power, which for an aging wolf like her, was something she did not experience every day.

But there is a limited amount of time that one can spend, lying in the snow, before feet gets cold and your body itches to be on the move again. Wraen got up, stepped out in the open and approached the other with a confidence of a wolf, who owns the place and greets a stranger at their doorstep. "Good-day, sir!" she called out to him. "How may I help you?"

Sir?

He sidestepped in surprise when a clear voice called out to him, and his features turned sour for a moment. He didn't like being surprised, and he had been hoping to go unnoticed. It took some deal of effort to refrain from rolling his eyes when he saw the woman striding towards him- much closer than he would have liked, which indicated that she'd possibly been stalking him for some time. He'd been too distracted to notice, and now he likely looked like a bit of an idiot...This wasn't something new for him, though. 

He lifted his head a few inches, though his posture remained impassive, relaxed, ambivalent. His gaze roamed over her form, noting with some appreciation that she looked to be somewhere about his age at least, which meant that hopefully, she wasn't too immature or weird. He, however, wasn't exactly the picture of a well-mannered gentleman, and he snorted and cackled at her question. It was a charming idea, but she had much to learn, if she was going to try and offer him help. "I'm way beyond the point of being helped, lady, but thanks for the offer." He said wryly. He'd noted her posture, and assumed she meant to assert her claim on the area; he didn't make any moves to challenge her authority. "Didn't know there was a pack here." He said, in the manner of someone fishing for answers without necessarily asking a question.

"It's never too late to save one's soul from the eternal damnation in the infernal flames of hell," Wraen replied with a straight face, l regarding the young man quizzically, waiting for his reaction to her nonsensical banter. It had been a long time since she had tested people of, whether they had a sense of humour or not. In adition to that the guy had been caught snooping around her claim and she did not mind, if he concluded that she was not right in the head. Crazy people have the advantage of being treated nicely, because you never know, what would happen, if you did otherwise. 

"Now you know. Be careful, last I heard there was a nasty hag wandering around too," she remarked and did not give away any other information about her pack, unless he asked direct questions. "You, however, smell somewhat familiar," she told him, trying to remember, who was this particular scent associated with. Definitely not one she had met recently. Then it hit her: "Are you one of Mal's kids?"

It surprised him to hear her assure him- with a straight face no less- that he could be saved. He gazed at her for a moment, his features equally as calm and demure, trying to figure out if she was just yanking his chain, or if she actually was some kind of religious fanatic, but she didn't break her facade. So a moment of silence was spent as they regarded one another, until eventually his lips twitched, and pulled into a slight, wry grin. "I dunno. Hell sounds like more fun to me." He replied, giving her a wink. He didn't mind this one- so long as she wasn't actually going to try and convert him, or save his soul. 

She revealed the sort of sense of humour that he didn't mind, when she referred to a hag- and he was left simply to assume she might've been referring to herself, in a self-deprecative way. "I don't mind hags," He admitted, with a slight shrug of his shoulder. 

When she said she recognized his scent, he scrunched his nose a bit; she didn't look familiar, but perhaps they'd crossed paths before. But when she asked him about being Mal's kid, he snorted. "Mal's kid? Pfft- nah. I'm from Neverwinter Forest, sure, but I ain't one of his kids. He's got enough of them, though," The last part wasn't much more than a mutter, but likely clear and loud enough for Wraen to have heard the remark. So he shuffled his shoulders slightly, as though it might do some good for his reputation. "Jackalope Blackthorn," He said. "Not exactly 'at your service,' but 'at your doorstep,' I guess." He said with an absent-minded shrug.

References about hell from this genius stand-up by Rowan Atkinson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ut116mBuPpg

"Oooh, it may be so. Just be sure that, before you die and go there, relieve yourself," Wraen suggested him solemnly. "I've heard that it is damnation without relief down there," she shrugged and with that the subject about religion was nicely wrapped up and put on a shelf. 

The kid proved to be neither easy to impress or be yanked around one way or another. He had a ready answer for everything, he was fearless, he was... aha, that made sense. Another Blackthorn. Wraen chuckled to herself, observing that you just could not get rid of that vast and branched out family. You kick one out, the other one is sitting on your doorstep almost immediately. The only thing left to find out now was, whether this was a curse or a blessing. 

"Wraen of the Enchanted Forest," she introduced herself, giving a name to the place she was claiming for the very first time. "So, what is that you want on my doorstep?" she asked him. "You do know that not all wolves take lightly random people showing up. Blackthorns are no exception to that rule. Though they have proven themselves to be quite original about their reasons. Impress me!" she grinned.

Bahaha! That is glorious! He's amazing! I grew up watching him every Sunday night as Mr. Bean and LOVED it.

Damnation without relief. Jackalope released an ugly cackle, tossing his head back as he did so, and ended up sounding somewhat like a croaking raven. Fiendishly, he grinned at her. She had a good sense of humour, which was something he missed. Everything about Neverwinter Forest seemed so serious; too many wolves worrying about children, he figured. Kids always brought so much misery with them. 

He rolled his eyes almost audibly at the mention of the pack name that she gave him, and opened his mouth to make a smart remark- but she continued, and mentioned his surname, which made him pause. His gaze sharpened slightly, and his dark ears flicked forward in interest. She was no stranger to the name which was, frankly, a bit disappointing. Everywhere he went, there were Blackthorns. The problem with Blackthorns was the fact that they spawned so damn much. So when she challenged him to impress her simply because of his lineage, he snorted. "I'm the only Blackthorn you'll ever meet that doesn't- and won't- have at least three dozen children." He said with a shrug. "That should be impressive enough, if you know how Blackthorns are." He drawled.

"Is that really a family trait?" Wraen laughed, counting in her mind all the Blackthorns she knew that had had numerous offspring and only two pairs known to her came to mind: Finley and Elwood; Liffey and Rannoch. The rest - at least those guys she had met - boasted about many great things in their lives, but children were not among them. "I know at least a handful, who have not had a single kid, but I can't say for sure, whether it is because of choice or circumstances," she shrugged. 

"But I know for sure that they are adventurers in heart," she told him. "And, since you have come all the way down here, I understand that you are no homebody, are you?" Wraen teased him gently. "How is Mal and the pack doing? Last I saw him in autumn, he was looking for a missing kid," she moved on with the conversation, hoping that Jackalope would fill in on the news.

"Seems to be," He replied. After all- he had eight littermates of his own, and several others from other litters, and from those Blackthorns had come dozens of nieces and nephews- too many to keep track of, especially considering the fact that he refused to be a babysitter. Apparently, though, he wasn't the only one who hadn't had children- and Wraen seemed to have met more than one that hadn't decided to become a baby factory as soon as they were physically capable- though the reasoning she provided made him scoff. "Probably has something to do with their personality," He smirked. 

She was right, though, when she observed that he- like many others in his family- was a wanderer. Not exactly an adventurer, as he thought that that label sounded a bit immature but he'd take it as a compliment regardless. Apparently Wraen was quite a well-informed individual. Not only did she know about the Blackthorns, but she also knew some of what the Neverwinter wolves had been going through. "Yeah. Dude's got too many kids and yeah, a bunch have wandered off." Could Jackalope even name them all? Not likely- not even the ones he was related to, without having to stop and think. Thinking was a dangerous past-time for Jackalope. "So have a few packmates too. We're stretched a bit thin," He said, wondering what Wraen might think of that news.

"Yeah... you would not believe, what people get to have children..." Wraen remarked, leaving the interpretation up for Jackalope to fill in. So, from the sound of it, Mal had not found his children and more members of his pack had drifted away. That's, how it happened, though the timing of it was a little surprising. During winters the opposite usually took place. Less food, more hungry wolves, larger prey...

"So, what else is new in the North?" she asked, now that Jackalope had shared news about their acquaintance. "Are there a lot of psychos still wandering around the wilds? I was warned about at least two or three odd people there in autumn."

Her response was a bit odd, but it led Jackalope to believe that either Wraen had no children, or simply didn't want them for herself. She wasn't leaping to defend Mal, nor had she leapt to the defense of the Blackthorns he claimed had been a bit too prolific for their own good. Maybe he'd finally found someone who knew just how much of a lifesuck children could be, and who had decided that that wasn't a life they wanted for themselves. And if that was the way that Wraen felt, perhaps her pack also felt the same way, and exerted some sort of control over the breeding season. He would be much happier if he didn't have to worry about Springtime so much, for fear there would be screaming children to watch after and feed. Perhaps he might be more interested in this place- though the name "Enchanted Forest" was quite  turn-off for him. 

She proved to be well-informed again when she asked about the rumours of bad wolves in the vicinity- though this merely caused Jackalope to roll his eyes. "Personally? I think it was all a bunch of malarky that was blown completely out of proportion." Jackalope confessed. "I cross paths with assholes all the time, but that doesn't mean there's evil wolves everywhere plotting to start a war. I h'ain't never crossed paths with anyone from those Saints, or that other pack- whatever it was called- that was apparently causing trouble." He said. He was entirely bored with the notion that there was a war brewing, because he'd only ever really experienced it all second-hand, or through messengers. "So as far as I can tell, it's all bullcrap." He confessed.

"Well, it's one thing they tell you, the other, what your imagination paints for you inside your head. In my experience," Wraen said and felt lucky that she had not run into any of the bad folk during her travels. This guy probably had been lucky too. Whereas Maia's unfortunate meeting was a proof that there was a fine line between regular everyday assholes and truly rotten bunch. 

"It is all the better, if they are gone then," she replied and fell silent, having not much to offer to either the conversation or the man himself. She could offer him a place to rest, but it was not her decision alone to make. With their claim being rather new and them working really hard already to put themselves through this barren season, she decided not extend her cordiality too much. "Well, if there is no other important information I can provide you with, then I suggest you make your way home. Day's are short and the road is long. Greet Mal from me, please!" she told him.

He liked the way Wraen thought. She didn't blow things out of proportion- but acknowledged that others did that. She'd heard things as well, no doubt- but unlike others, she hadn't made any mention of war. She gathered information and intelligence the way a raven would search for and collect shiny things. And furthermore- she also knew when to end a conversation, and send visitors packing, whilst being polite about it. Something shimmered lightly in his otherwise dull eyes- and with a nod that was almost a polite gesture (something in very, very low quantity in Jackalope's repertoire) he gave her a slight smile and shifted his weight, indicating that he got the hint, and would let her be. 

"I will," He said, though he wasn't one hundred percent sure he would extend the greeting, simply because it wasn't the top priority- and he thought he might keep this little encounter to himself. If he let Mal know that Wraen was nearby, there was a potential that this charming woman he'd found would then get more involved with his alpha, and Jackalope wasn't exactly willing to share. "I'll see you again," He said, almost cryptically, before he turned, and began to jog in the direction of Neverwinter.