Hideaway Strath sapientia

making the assumption the saints have been gone for a bit!

wolves once resided here. but not for some time. germanicus moved onward into the verdant place, observant. toothmarks upon bones, the mark of a paw here and again.

returning to the single entrance, the eagle paused to watch the near treeline with tautened hushflower gaze, meaning to detect any sort of movement that might signal his reckoning.

"did you ever meet those who lived here?" he asked aloud, glancing around for @Crowfeather.

The closer they got to the former pack grounds, the more nervous Crowfeather had grown. The scent of those who had bullied him, had made him scared and worried, the brutes, still lingered heavily. 

They had many members, he said softly. 

I didn't like them.

As if that would carry a modicum of importance with the silver, stalwart Germanicus. He had asked, though. 

I wonder why they left...

"what did they do?" the eagle pressed further. he stepped onward with his examining. the commitment of each detail to memory might perhaps serve him again, if he ever returned to this place. 

a large number of wolves. wherever they now settled, they would not be able to keep their arrival silent. he wished to know what kind of pack they had once been.

"it is a well-fortified place. they were not naive in their choice."

perhaps their choice had been for war.

germanicus continued to investigate.

Crowfeather merely watched Germanicus prowl the former pack's claim. He asked what they had done and the dark wolf was not certain how he might answer without sounding pathetic.

Their leader was... Cocky. He mocked me, but I'm not sure why. He seemed like a beast. Like he would kill without question if- if it suited him. 

Two more only wished to demonstrate their power and savagery. He pouted at this memory. 

When Crowfeather thought of Vein, it was with regret. Whatever Vein had told him could only have been a trick. He had wanted to lure Crowfeather into treachery. 

The last was smart and good with tricks, Crowfeather's sadness was evident.

sadness in the boy that had been misled. germanicus did not stir from his work, looking at the edges of what might have been a whelping-den. the possibility that children had been taken upon this relocation stirred something dark in the guardian.

an arrogant, teasing leader. two others who wished to show might. and the last, most effective of all.

"you give too much away. with your expressions," germanicus pointed out, brusquely. he did not comment upon the information that he had been granted. "it is a weakness. but one easily corrected."

the man walked ahead in silence.

A weakness, yes. 

Crowfeather steeled himself against the rush of anxiety. Just looking at how fast he had demonstrated his adept skill at being a disappointment, his stomach curled.

Emotion had been so vital in the Starsea.

I- yes. Correct me, Crowfeather said with a nod that he had intended to be firm. Do you wish to know more, Germanicus?

"more of you, or of this place?" germanicus tossed back, abandoning his roam to approach crowfeather. he did not know by what art the boy had gotten him to speak so much. maybe it was only regret for having agreed to bring a companion.

regret that he could not change himself from a soldier, nor an instructor. 

crowfeather's eyes were twin dots of gold paint against a dark canvas of distress.

"i do not mean to say not to experience yourself. only do it without your face shifting. it will save you one day."

he returned to his trail through the strath. "tell me what else you know of this rabble and their woodland."

Oh, well-

The dark wolf clenched his teeth tightly together when he felt his expression shift uneasily. Crowfeather wanted to prove to Germanicus that he could learn. He could be better than he was. 

I could tell you more of both, he said after only a moment, but I will know more about one than the other. 

This was true only in the sense that Crowfeather did not know more than he had learned when meeting the wolves who had once lived there. 

They called themselves the Saints, he recalled carefully. Their leader was a large frightening wolf named Kynareth Deagon. He said he came from a place called the Abbey- a strange name, isn't it? When Crowfeather thought again of the large brindled beast who had met him in the trees, he felt pleased to know he had not been injured in that interaction. 

He seemed keen to convince me that he wasn't frightening, Crowfeather remarked slowly. It seems significant, b- but I'm not certain why. Perhaps you can make something of it.

germanicus entrusted each name and uttered word for later recollection. he saw the way that crowfeather paused to control himself, and gave a near imperceptible movement of one ear to show his approval.

"how would one such as that gather fighters for his battling if he frightened them all away?" an interesting tactic, and one most commonly used upon those who were not men.

this pagan lord had an intellect then, and one used for his own purposes.

"we will not stop here. i mean to be upon the mountains by nightfall."

Crowfeather had never thought of something like that. He could not pull his eyes from the silver wolf, from Germanicus. The fearful young shadow wondered for a heartbeat if he had joined them...

Germanicus was moving, saying that he did not wish to remain there. Crowfeather's ears stood tall at the mention of the mountains. 

Crowfeather was tired already but he had sworn he would not fall behind. He did not intend to disappoint the intense man he had found. He wanted only for Germanicus to keep him at his side. 

So, he kept pace with the older wolf. Against every stitch in his ribs and pang in his paws, he kept pace.

and germanicus would drive him, onward, answering whatever questions the tired young boy put to him, and keeping the long limbs from stilling by telling tales of monsters.

the sort they had left behind. the kind that hunted at night. the type that killed their own people.