King Elk Forest The wind
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#1
All Welcome 
Stars littered the sky. Their light twinkled from overhead and crickets hummed in the foliage. Peace felt something akin to a warm summer night. For the runaway wolf, there was nothing better. 

Crowfeather watched fireflies bob through the air. They looked lazy, he thought to himself and frowned. The slow rise and fall of the spark bug was like a drunken dance. 

The wolf was resting on his belly, paws neatly arranged in front of him, much like a sphinx. He had eaten twice just that day but his ribs still showed through the sheen of his dark fur coat. 

Tall and thin, bones peering through, eyes sunken deep into his head. Crowfeather could have played more accurately at a cryptid monster than a wolf.
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Kyn wanders to King Elk Forest today. The place where a band of wolves worshipped a deer as their god. An odd bunch but not necessarily bad. Still, to this day, he wonders where they went. Coming in large numbers to then disappear just as quick as the gangly legged herbivores they praised. 

Yet, they are not the only things on his mind as he drifts through this forest all on his lonesome. His eyes supply him with the beautiful scenery around him. The sickly blue of the moonlight that’s falls through the thick canopy above offers splotchy patches of moving light upon the dusky forest floor. The fireflies are lively tonight and he finds himself silently mesmerized by the simplicity of it all. No thoughts of war or death, or even the complexities of leading a pack. Merely the peaceful serenity of nature and just that alone. 

That is until he spots what appears to be a shadow lying comfortably about the ground a few meters ahead of him. He has to blink to make sure he’s not seeing things, for he hardly catches this stranger in his sights all all. 

His curiosity is piqued. He tilts his head and a small smile tilts his lips skyward. He walks easily towards this stranger. It wouldn’t be horrible to spend such beauty with the unknown. Little does he know that when he comes closer the unknown is beauty. A wolven creature of deep black becomes more clear. The tempting yellow of their eyes reflects off the moon and Kynareth finds himself more interested by the second. This stranger is tall it seems, but thin, almost hungry looking. Yet, it doesn’t distract him from their own unspoken beauty. 

He intentionally makes himself loud as to not spook the other too much. His large form easily revealed in the dim light, a smile formed on his maw. 

“Evening.” He hums. Come to enjoy the nice night as well?” He asks casually, voice low as to not disturb the serenity of it all.
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#3
It was the scent of the large wolf that alerted Crowfeather before the noise he made would have.

That smell, he whispered to himself. At once, his eyes squinted, and he looked to where he expected to see Vein. Instead, he was met with a frightening figure, brindled, strong, looking directly at where he was lounging beneath a tree.

Fear rippled through his thin frame, seizing his heart.

Crowfeather hurried to his paws so that he was not placed at such an inconvenient position. This stranger might have carried the scent of the same pack as Vein but there was no telling whether he would be as kind.

You, he yipped pathetically before attempting to clear his throat, courage lost.

You are from the pack that Vein is from?
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As the brindled giant appears from the darkness like a wraith, it seems to spook the midnight wolf. So much so he’s snapping to his paws and a panicked expression seizes up a handsome face. At his jumpiness, Kyn is bewildered. Looking around comically as if it wasn’t him who scared this stranger but perhaps a demon or ghost. 

A smile comes to his face, though it’s not as predatory as he usually allows it to be. Kyn’s golden orbs seem to light up in the glint of the dim moon masked by the canopy above. Eyes catch on the others throat as he swallows nervously, this man is practically shaking in his boots ans Kynareth’s got no idea why. Well, he does, but he never thought he was that scary. 

When this man speaks it comes out as a pathetic little yip, the following words just as shaky. The Grandmaster’s expression becomes one of amusement, slowly and easily folding his hind legs into a neat sit. So when he mentions Vein’s name Kyn can’t help but tilt his massive head a touch in interest. 

“I am.” He confirms. “The alpha actually.” He hums easily, voice oh so nonchalant. “And relax, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you. Hell, I didn’t even mean to scare you like that.” He chuckles towards the end of his sentence remembering the way the other jumped right out of his skin. “You’re a tad jumpy, huh? I’m not even scary, come on now.” He says with an easygoing lilt to his deep voice.
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#5
The alpha of the pack where Vein lived.

Crowfeather could not help but to quiver softly at this. He shuddered entirely when addressed as sweetheart, large ears falling to his head. The young shadow’s tail was quick to tuck to his belly.

These wolves were strange, he thought to himself.

It was immediate regret that paired with his already bubbling fear. Crowfeather did not want to be in the woods with the leader of a pack of any sort. He did not know how to behave himself around other lone wolves, he did not know how to behave when he was alone. He did not need this large brute purring at him like a lost whelp.

You are unknown!

Crowfeather’s voice rises somewhat, but he drew his gaze to meet that of the larger wolf’s and swallowed the thick lump in his gullet.

And therefore a threat.

The distrust was evident, he did not wish to hide his guarded nature.
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This one is full of fear, Kyn can tell by the hardly there shudder of his thin body. Then even more so by the tucking of a tail and the nervous shifting of ears. But the Grandmaster doesn’t pressure, or he tries not to at least. He sits there, unmoving and patient, until the other raises his voice a fraction. Something that surprises him a touch due to the others seemingly timid nature, but fear does things no other can do to a man, so one can never know. 

You are unknown! And therefore a threat.

He is untrusting of strangers. It’s smart of him, especially with a man like Kynareth. The brindled giant is feeling playful tonight, but perhaps on a night that he was craving blood, this interaction would’ve gone very different.

So he chuckles softly, a smirk showing on a handsome, but heavily scarred face. “And how would you like me to prove that I aim to be no threat to you tonight?” He asks deeply with a cocky raise of cream brows. “Perhaps you want me to roll over on my back for you? Show you my neck?” He’s confident when he says it, suspecting that the other is much more submissive than dominating. 

And he does just that. This enormous man, alpha in every sense of the word smirks cheekily at Crowfeather and flops lazily to his side along the grassy floor. Making a show of rolling onto his back and exposing his throat. 

“Is this better?” He chirps playfully in question, but his smirk remains. “Do I seem a threat still?” 
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None of the large wolf’s confidence ebbed. The massive brute just stood there with that hubristic expression on his face.

Even the words that were offered did little to ease Crowfeather’s nerves. In fact, they were quite instigating. The dark crow’s feather was a seer, Gods be damned! They had blessed him with the gift of premonition, and he was being… mocked by this giant!

Crowfeather snorted and lifted his narrow snout.

No. Y- you are mocking me now.

The yellow of his eyes no longer carried fear. That fright had been replaced with indignation. Alpha he might have been to Vein’s pack, but this brindled wolf was not a leader to Crowfeather.

What do you want then? he demanded after a breath’s time.
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From his position on the mulch covered forest floor, he hears a snort and sees an upwards tilt of the others chin. This makes him smile. Maybe the other is lightening up a bit, but who knows. Kyn’s always relaxed. Others? Not so much. Although he can see why someone might be intimidated by him, the giant Saint is actually very lax compared to what most suspect. Unless he’s in a mood that makes him otherwise. Now though, that’s not the case. The night is beautiful and is company is too, albeit a bit jumpy, so he finds himself in quite the good moon. 

No. Y- you are mocking me now.

Kyn chuckles as he rolls off his back and lies comfortably on an elbow with his legs splayed out to the side. His eyes meet the others and offers a playful wink. “Only a bit.” He admits back to that statement.

Despite Kyn’s playful mocking, he can see an irritated fire swirling in the depths of the others canary orbs. He almost feels back for messing with him, but he doesn’t because he thinks the others just needs to chill out and have a nice time with some amazing company (or at least that what he thinks of himself). 

So when the dark male asks what he wants he shrugs indifferently. “Some company.” He answers cheekily. “Thought I’d say hi since I saw you when I was passing by. So, what’s your name? Where you from?” He asks conversationally.
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Crowfeather had not been expecting the large male to admit to his mockery. He did feel a wash of satisfaction when he did, though. The nervous jittering of his heart was lessened.

With fear being kept at bay, Crowfeather became only slightly more confident. He did not move from his place, but he also did not cower in fear at the hulking alpha or the way that he seemed to toy with the dark seer, winking and smiling as if he knew something more than anyone else in the room.

Hmph.

It was an adequate reply to the request for company.

Companionship was faulty and what would make the leader of a pack seek company outside of his home or away from his kin? Crowfeather was certain that there was something more at play.

I am from the Starsea. My name is From the Crow’s Wing… but if you must u- use it, you may call me Crowfeather, he answered. Did he want to even know the name of the pack leader?

Knowing that the large wolf had introduced himself foremost as the leader of Vein’s pack said something to Crowfeather. It told him that this wolf valued his title before his moniker. It told him that he had a great deal of pride.
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The fire in those moonlit eyes fades, only some, but is replaced with a softer emotion that he can’t quite place. Then, all he gets is a ‘humph’ in response to his first statement. He says nothing, patiently wait for the other to answer the brindle brutes own questions. He wants to know his name, where he came from, what he’s doing here. He’s an interesting fellow despite what the other may assume Kyn thinks. 

But finally, he gets an answer. It’s timid, but an answer nonetheless. It’s perfectly fine with him and Kyn smiles brightly at the others name when it graces his auds. And he’s from a place called Starsea? Wow, why does that sound so mystical? It intrigues him and evidence of this would be shamelessly shown as he tilts his head and a look of clear curiosity settles in his expression. 

“Wow.” He says dumbly, but in his tone lives genuine amazement. “That sounds pretty cool. The place you’re  from, I mean. And what an interesting name. I think it suits you.” He offers with a sly smirk.

“Well, it would be rude of me not to share my own. I’m Kynareth Deagon from a place known as The Abby.” The Saint offers easily, smoothly. “It’s an honor to officially make your acquaintance.” He purrs with a curt dip of his massive head. 

“So, Crowfeather, what brings you here?” He wonders then.
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The alpha of Vein’s pack did not ask for further information about the Starsea, and so Crowfeather did not give it.

The dark wolf merely nodded his narrow head once when told that his home sounded interesting. The opinions of an outsider were not to be taken seriously. The alpha had never seen the Starsea or its wolves. He did not know of their culture.

It was in this conversation that the alpha became, well someone.

Kynareth Deagon was a name far more peculiar than Vein had been. The large wolf’s home, a place called the Abbey, seemed even stranger still.

When Kynareth the alpha asked why Crowfeather was there, the dark wolf frowned. His tall ears fell flat to his cap. The fur along his neck bristled ever so, but he did not move.

To fulfill my fate, he answered stiffly. And you?
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The other regards him with a terse tone and Kyn acts as if he’s been punished. His own ears fall and he has a look of faux hurt about him. That tantalizing smile still remains though. 

“So touchy, darling.” He comments back in a hum as if his feelings have been hurt. “And perhaps I’m doing the same. What is your fate? If I may ask.” 

His question comes out genuinely inquisitive. He seems quite enraptured by Crowfeather’s cold aura and terse words. Nothing seems to bother him no matter how he’s insulted or spoken to. It truly takes a lot for the Grandmaster to get riled up.
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Crowfeather had grown more uncomfortable with the large brute's presence. The sultry way he wove his words did him no favors in the eyes of the flighty shadow. All it had done was make Crowfeather feel small and ashamed. 

It is undecided, the seer answered him, biting back a colder response. 

Crowfeather knew that he could not afford a battle with the man. Kynareth was much stronger, much larger, more unpredictable than the wolf of the Starsea. He would not have withstood the first strike, he felt certain. The knowledge of this pushed him to run away. 

I really should- I really should be going, Crowfeather muttered, averting his eyes to the dirt.
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It’s clear the crow-wolf does not want to converse with the likes of him — the almighty leader of the Saints. Perhaps his fight or flight instincts are truly too powerful to allow him to comfortably lie beside a beast such as himself and have a decent conversation. 

So, as the other offers a terse reply and a moderately awkward goodbye, Kyn chuckles deeply, almost teasingly. His limbs flex as he gets up, coingold eyes holding nothing but mirth…and perhaps something a bit more malicious. The brindled brute feigns indifference with a wide and casual smile full of dangerous teeth. 

“Such a wretched conversationalist.” He teases. “And I thought we were having a swell time.” 

Kyn turns his back confidently on the other male, allowing his head to tilt ever so slightly to look at Crowfeather as he sidles away. “Loosen up some, dear. You’d be surprised of the good it does.” With that, the Grandmaster would lazily leave the vicinity, that mask of casual arrogance never leaving his face.
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Somewhere in his need to depart, the conversation had shifted tones. It was slight, but Crowfeather had noticed the clear show of teeth and the confident, arrogant, sway of the large wolf’s frame. The alpha of the Saints did not worry for anything, it seemed.

Kynareth attempted to offer words of advice, perhaps even encouragement. Crowfeather’s face burned with embarrassment at being spoken to in such a way.

The large brindled wolf had made him feel like a child in only a matter of seconds.

When he had casually strolled from sight, Crowfeather turned swiftly and raced away into the brush. The dark wolf prayed that he would never see that beast again.