Lion Head Mesa Bitter sweet honey

I forgot to tag you! @Ingram II

Sometimes she wished she could change. That wasn't too old to change her ways, that she could be gentler, a different version of herself. That she could cry over the dead and weep for those deserving of it. But Slate was too old to change, too set in her ways, she was not easy to persuade to become someone different. The events of Akashingo's palace where she had humanely killed one of their own was still rooted deep within her. Akashingo had left the poor woman to suffer, Slate had ended that suffering cause no one else was strong enough to do it.

It had to be her.

Slate had rearranged all of her items from her pouch, found a safe spot within the camp of Ursus to place her items without them being trembled. She had left them there to go on a hunt. A hunt for plants. She wasn't searching for any in particular, but just useful plants to keep her mind occupied. Her worries were with the dead female and Slate had never believed in the afterlife or any sort of religious setting, she was not raised with it. She did not believe the female was better off this way or that she was better now. She was dead. Gone to never return to the life she had been living. It was life, but a harsh reality.

She had taken another wolf's life.

She searched through Akashingo where she was permitted to wander, she sniffed the different plants carefully, examined them and picked them up one by one in her jaws whenever she found something of use. Flowers, herbs anything that hadn't withered and died yet. Autumn was here after all, she couldn't deny the chill of the air, nor that many plants were disappearing. Her extensive knowledge of plants was sometimes the only reason she found herself in the predicaments she were in. Giving life, giving herself into the study and taking a life. It was part of her job. Whatever she liked it or not.

Upon her wandering she came across something special. She put her collected flowers down and found that she had indeed made a rare discovery. It was an old bee hive of sorts that was hinging on a dying branch above her. She looked at it and wondered exactly how she was going to get it down and see if there was any kind of honey left in it. She could use it now when winter was soon upon her. Sore throats did well with a lick of honey.

She went over to the tree and put her front paws on the tree. She looked again and saw no buzzing around the hive and knew it was left for good. The season was also and indicator that no one was living it. The chance of any honey in it was low, but it was worth to check. She began pushing at the tree, to shake it. Little did it help though and the tree stood still. She groaned and tried pushing her entire weight into it. No luck.

She took a glance at her surroundings, wondering if anyone could help her.

despite ingram's determination to not sulk, he cannot help but despise the fact that he has to communicate with others in a more verbal manner than he would like to... which only makes him miss the easy way in which the shadow and him had been able to communicate nonverbally. more to the fact, he just misses her ...and seeks, perhaps, to fill the void her absence leaves in him.

he'd never particularly been close to anyone ...not skaigona, not druid nor witch nor mahler nor sequoia; perhaps an indication of the horrible betrayal and matricide that had followed.

he takes to wandering around the mesa with as much freedom as the leash he wears will let him, waiting for this war to come. until then, he eats his fill and worries bones to strengthen his teeth, his jaws; eager to give himself into the bloodrage that feels so achingly familiar to his soul, as if he knew it intimately in a past life.

broken out of his train of thoughts, ingram comes upon another; older... though he is uncertain if she is one of ursus or akashingo. for a moment, seaglass gaze studies her as she pushes against the tree with a groan; confusion furrowing his brow. he takes note of the hive hanging from the branch ...and notices that she appears to be looking around for something. quick! he wants to shrink back on himself, to not be seen because socializing is not something he enjoys doing but knows it is far too late, now.

so, he summons his voice and asks, what're you doing? with heavy skepticism that flirted with cloying and barbed amusement.

If Slate hadn't been looking around to find some sort of help she would have been completely startled by the stranger. But she did see him coming. She had never seen him before, but she hadn't met anyone for real yet, Satsu the queen was the only one who seemed to have taken an interest to Slate. For reasons she couldn't comprehend. She looked at the huge male where her own figure seemed so fragile in comparison. He was huge, a brutish form. He was perfect.

"what're you doing?" She looked at him, with a look that said "that's supposed to be obvious". Then she looked at the hive he too was looking at. "I am trying to get the hive down. Could you help me?" She moved aside to give him room to bounce into the tree if he wanted to. She swished her tail back and forth, waiting eagerly to see if he would help her or not. She hoped he would and even more so she hoped she was lucky enough that there was some honey left in the hive.

"So. Ursus or Akashingo?" She asked openly, swinging out the question as if it was an every day conversation. She looked at him with her piercing eyes, waiting for a response. "I am from Ursus. My name is Slate." Should the male help her get the hive down she would eagerly walk over to the broken hive and check it for honey if he got it down.

Should he refuse to help her or not be able to get it down she would frown and scowl, irritated that she had to try on her own again.

She wasn't much of a conversationist, in fact she hated small talk. She wouldn't know what to say, talk about the weather? Not gonna happen. She would inspect the hive in silence if it had landed on the ground and look up at him from time to time. What kind of man was he? He looked like a brute, a warrior of some sort. She looked down again and wanted to say something, but lords were lost on her.

she responds and then asks if he'd help her.

surly as ingram tended to be, he was sorely tempted to say 'no' ...but her saving grace was informing him that she was of ursus, too ...before he could finish drawing in the breath to respond.

her name follows and ingram lets his mouth, opening with a rejection upon his lips, close with a 'click'.

ursus, he responds. i am ingram. he moves nearer, inspecting the hive, trying to judge how far it was from the ground and if he could try to jump and pull it down or if it was better to use his shoulder against the trunk as a battering ram.

after a few moments of deciding, he tosses his weight into the trunk again and again and again until the hive broke lose and gravity pulled it down to the ground with a soft thump.

though he desires to ask what's so special about it, he refrains for the moment, gaze focusing upon what she's doing with unbridled curiosity written across his tragically young and scarred features.

The large man comes to her rescue. "Ursus. I am Ingram" She steps away from the tree and watches with glee how he gets the hive down. She quickly inspects it to find that there is indeed honey left within. Not much, but everything will do with the cold coming. She smiles widely and looks up to find Ingram looking curiously at the hive with a question mark on his face. She tries to decide whatever or not he is actually interested or just plain curious.

"There is a bit of honey in here." She seperates the parts that are empty from the broken pieces that does contain honey. She looks at Ingram and wonders if he wants to know more. Slate wasn't the talkative type, but get her to talk about her job and she was all interested in conversation. Though she was slowly learning that wasn't always the case for everyone else in Ursus. She decides not to say anything further unless he asks.

"Ingram what made you join Ursus?" She ask with a genuine interest. She seems to forget why she joined. Even more so with every passing day. She knew a pack was good for protection, she didn't mind the war at hand, but more so the overall attitude from Ursus versus Akashingo. She looks at Ingram for an answer.

from ingram's perspective, as the older woman offers words while she works, speaking of honey — not something ingram's ever came across before but assumes it's what that strange gold colored liquid in the hive is — and then asking what made him join ursus, she is chatty. to him, it does not take much to come to that conclusion and first impression as he is not a beast of many words. though, admittedly, since joining ursus he has spoken more words than he has since abandoning rivenwood.

honey? he draws nearer to sniff at the strange ambrosia colored liquid, finding that it's sweet. he wars with himself on whether or not that means its poisonous. bees make it? he inquires trying to puzzle out the how; his curiosity rooted in the perusal of knowledge strictly.

with a bit of reluctance, ingram turns his attention then to her question. it was a good question ...but not one that had any real answer. there were a thousand 'because's' and all of them disappointing.

because winter was coming. because he missed his shadow with a physical ache in his chest. because merrick had promised war ...and though he was not particularly invested in it's catalyst, he could no longer deny that his soulsong hungered for bloodshed and carnage.

committing matricide had altered something in ingram. or perhaps, simply brought something underlying to the light. either way, he is changed.

merrick promised war. is the reason that ingram settled on with a lofty shrug of his shoulders.

"honey?" She nods and moves slightly so he can see. He comes and sniffs it and he looks like he is still uncertain about it. "bees make it?" She nods once again and doesn't offer much more than that. Slate isn't a biologist, but she knows bees make honey from flowers, exactly how or why she didn't know.

"I am the only healer in Ursus. I need everything I can gather to prepare. For winter, for war." She felt slightly disheartened upon saying it. She didn't like war, but she also saw it was something that had to come. War meant she had a greater purpose and meaning in the pack, but that was all she had to say about that. She didn't approve of war or its consequences, but she didn't know how else to fit in.

"merrick promised war." She looks surprised at Ingram and her eyes shift uncomfortably. Great some guy directly looking for war. Seeking it like some moth to a flame. Why she didn't know, but it couldn't be for the joy of it. Could it? "Do you want war? Are you not afraid?" What if you die? What if you get hurt? Sure Slate was here to patch them up, but she couldn't perform miracles to her left and right. She wanted people to be careful in this war.

She looked at Ingram with curious but also scared eyes. She wondered what kind of man was seeking war and death like this.

her responses are non-verbal, which serve ingram just fine. briefly, ingram wonders how bees make honey but then assumes that perhaps it is magic ...or worse, something he does not wish to know. somethings were better left unknown. not every question that flickers across the forefront of his mind like a butterfly's wings needed an answer.

happy with this, ingram offers a grunt of acknowledgment but does not inquire further. he is no healer and has no desire to save lives ( the exception being, perhaps, his own ...and the shadow but he is trying and failing to move on ).

the uncomfortable shift in her gaze lights upon ingram's attention and he studies her unabashedly ...wondering what about his truth makes her uncomfortable. not everyone was a martyr. and not every youth was innocent. he had long since shed his innocence, growing out of it like it was a snakeskin. or perhaps, he'd never had any. there was a part of his soul song that felt old. older than him, at any rate. old enough to have known and felt and thrived in war ...singing to the archaic song of his people.

his mother's people?

it mattered not.

i want... ingram pauses, considering. to feel alive. and he remembers how aware of his life he was when he battled praimfaya; though it'd not been glorious. not with his inexperience and her already half upon her death bed. a terse twitch of his lips is given; unsure how to explain it.

i do not fear death, ingram tells her simply. my people believe that the spirit is reborn. well, supposedly that was only true of the commander's spirit but he was the son of a commander. perhaps that meant his soul had that ability too.

assuming his presence was no longer welcome or needed ( true or otherwise ), ingram takes his leave; giving her space to work.