Duskfire Glacier the soldier's minute

founding thread ii. fast forwarding this a few days.

wintersbane is tired; and though the snow he's used to clean out his wound on and off from the landslide has helped it still throbs dully. it would heal, he knew ...and familiar enough by now with how deep it would have to be to scar that the tissue would scar when it mended. the sun was cresting over the glacier, dancing upon the thick ice like flames. for a moment, the sight is unwelcome and a shiver slithers down his spine as he's reminded of the meteor that crashed into the spear.

he pushes past it and keeps moving, grateful that duskfire carries with it no scent of claim. though this would not be his first attempt to claim land for himself and raise an empire from nothing ...wintersbane feels desperation and determination sink into him like claws. maybe, this time, he thinks, as he paces into the forested area, it would be enough.

She moved with a slowness through the wooded area. A bit lost. Okay, she found herself very lost. All she knew was she had strayed too far from the Empire. Not very likely to return by accident now. So she had to make due with the things and places she had around her.

Although she had not thought a roguish man would be one of them. He looked rough...to be polite.

Hello? She called soft enough to likely be nothing more than a whisper on the wind.

hello?

the voice, though as soft as a whisper upon the wind, startles wintersbane all the same. even a few days after the aftermath, the slightest noise spooks the tundrian and he hates it. and yet; he cannot help but be jumpy. his ears still ring with the thunderous roar of the collision, of the landslide. he still wants to shy away from the sun, for the lingering heat of the flaming rock from the heavens lingers upon his skin ( and surely he smells faintly of sulfur from the small chunk of meteor that cut his leg ). 

a moment passes and then another and wintersbane knows he will have to move past this, to lock this trauma up in the dark corner of his mind that he's locked every other traumatic event in his life up in and pretend it doesn't exist. because that is what he does. he keeps moving forward.

he turns to face her, glacial gaze taking in her form in the shadows of the new dawn. hello. wintersbane rasps in stalled return.

She did not know what to make of him. Injured with an odd smell. Although the scent did not inherently make her think of a sickness or infection. It was something new to her. Perhaps it was simply him, that was how he smelled.

I'm sorry. I did not mean to intrude... She trailed off. Tired eyes looked to the area around him, as if there might be something (or someone) else there. I simply noticed you here. Looking rugged and as though he might need the company.

Perhaps she had read the situation wrong, though. She did not know the wolves or what they were like here.

guilt twists within the tundrian's chest as she apologizes. it is free territory, for now. he has set impulsive designs on settling it, somehow more determined ( though perhaps it is the earlier desperation he felt ) than ever before. losing home after home after home would do that, wintersbane decides. and i don't mind the company. he shifts his weight again, wincing slightly. he is not keen on showing weakness in the presence of strangers but it's not as if he has a choice. 

i'm usually much better company, a ghost of a smile flickers across his scarred muzzle. it's been a rough few days. he admits offering his introduction in the next breath, i'm wintersbane.

Free territory for the two of them, it appeared. This softened some internal worries she had about being here upon this new land. Granted she still worried about whatever had done damage to him. Had it been here?

It...looks as such. She offered with a soft, weary laughter of her own. Iana. Returned with a polite little dip of her head. She had been taught such manners and although she had drifted into sleep through some lessons, a few had stuck.

What brings you here? Perhaps a reprieve from whatever his days had been.

disaster struck my home, though moonspear wasn't around anymore to consider home. yes, the mountain remained a bit worse for wear but there was no use lingering there. a small meteor hit the mountain and caused a landslide. a piece of rock did this, he gestures with his muzzle to his leg casually. another scar to add to the mapping of past injuries upon my flesh. i am left to assume that most of the pack is dead caught in the collision and landslide. those like me who were lucky scattered. that was all it really was, he thinks. luck. luck that he'd been just outside of the territory when all it went down and all he'd suffered was a splice of flesh from debris.

i guess... he drawls in a breath. i've come here to make a new home. because as a survivor, he had to keep on surviving.

She had never heard such a thing before. Unfamiliar with the concept of a meteor but it sounded...very unwell. Something strong enough to hit the mountain and cause a landslide. It was a very she had very much having lived in a valley, but here he was. Having lived it. Survived it. Even if it seemed he had lost plenty.

Might I look? She asked carefully with a small gesture to the injury. She was no great master, but she had shadowed plenty of medics to know a few things.

If allowed, she would still seek to continue conversation even while she looked. Make a new home? Some questioning in her tone as she echoed back his words.

he hesitates for only a moment; but smoothes the worst of his worries. he know he's just jumpy from the events and that his hesitation wasn't by any means personal. please. wintersbane agrees, motioning her to come nearer. i've tried to clean it out with snow but — he wasn't that flexible and he was no medic, truth be told. thank you. he offers in a soft rasp. it was a kindness he has not expected to find but is immensely grateful nonetheless.

wintersbane does his best to hold still as she inspects the wound, ears cupping forth to catch her question. a pack. he clarifies. i've tried a few times over the years but ... this time feels different. he was desperate, he wanted a family. he wanted a stable home beneath his rule. third time's the charm, right? he tries for soft humor but knows that his heart really isn't in it right now. 'might settle this glacier, providing the resources check out. the territory certainly had beauty ...but beauty wasn't enough to provide sustainability for a pack.

She was met with kind manners to her offer. It was always easier that way, when others could accept the help being offered. So with his permission granted, she moved forward to get a better look at his injury.

Iana imagined it would indeed need to be cleaned out more. However she did not plan to startle him with sudden grooming over the tender wound. Perhaps she could find something useful to help. Moss, or clean snow to gently pack over it.

Her head lifted as he spoke more, eyes sought to look towards his face instead of his leg. Oh, I understand now. Her tail offered a few slow, tucked waves (mindful of the season, perhaps) before she went back to examination. Perhaps...perhaps I can help? At the very least, help with your injury while you find somewhere to settle.

for a moment wintersbane's thoughts are muddled; mind unfocused. he is thinking ahead and looking back and weighing the things that he'd done right and the things that he'd done wrong. he gives a small start when she speaks again, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them and allowed his mind to wander. 

glacial gaze searches her face for a moment; contemplating. i'd appreciate the help with my leg. wintersbane speaks after a moment. in the distance a branch breaks from the weight of heavy, wet snow upon it and the sound makes him jump. in the aftermath, despite it having been a few days, he was still very 'fight or flight' and knowing he couldn't fight mother nature all that was left was to run.

except, he holds his ground. he's tired of running, tired of wandering. tired.

you can stay... help found the pack, if you want. wintersbane offers. it's up to you. it was work, after all and not always work that wolves were willing to put into it; and he understood. it was much easier to join an established pack than try to help a fledgling pack take flight; and understanding that, he does not dare fault anyone for it.

She noticed his jump to the sound and it started her rabbit heart, a feverish pound in her chest now. It was a domino effect between them for the moment. A steady breath sucked in as she tried to slow the rapid beat of her heart.

I will stay. She answered steadily when she found evenness within herself again. A polite nod followed, before her lazy mind set out on a slow path of what needed to be done.

We should find somewhere to settle you. A gentle suggestion that she hoped he would not refuse. Then...if you would approve, I will try to better clean the injury. No one is fit for founding if they cannot work.

for a moment, wintersbane almost protests. there is work to be done... but catches himself at last moment, letting whatever protests that was brewing upon the tip of his tongue go. she was right. he was no use to anyone if his leg got infected and if he did not rest. he hadn't allowed him much time to rest over the course of the last few days; more than afraid to close his eyes. he was not a machine. 

so he concedes and picks a place to rest beneath the trees; shaded and ample enough cover where he would allow her to tend to his injury and when she was finished close his eyes to finally sleep. it would not be peaceful ...but when he would eventually wake he would be rested enough.