Bearclaw Valley Jakt

Out of the wood and into the valley, Eventyr made good progress. She swiped her tongue across her muzzle to remove the last of the prey taste that lingered there. A plump beaver had been her prize, waddling just on the edge of the forest and the open terrain. 

Drawing her snout to the passing wind to sniff, Eventyr felt uncertainty rising. Forward could be the only way. She could not journey back. 

A dark raven cawed from the woods. Her moon silver gaze rested on it with a cold expression. Eventyr chuffed lightly. The black-winged bird did not move. It appeared to cackle in the back of its throat before taking flight.

Inkeri had moved from her sister's side, but she wasn't far. Never far. Always within shouting distance was her @Anja. She heard the caw of the raven and stared with green eyes at the beast. It was a black one, like her father, like the one who condemned them, who had soured and poisoned their mother's womb. At least that was what her grandfather had said, the other pack mates.

She tilted her head as it fell upon a white she wolf, a femme that could be related to their pack maybe? Perhaps not. There were so many now, so many tree branches out. One, then two, now more. Some like them bastards, cursed, broken.

Inkeri stayed further away, just because she didn't know this wolf, did not mean she didn't know Inkeri or Anja and what they were, what they had been. Her eyes flitted back to the black raven, and she felt part of her soul aching towards the black, the other part rebelled against...no she was a Kvitravn, not a Svartraven, no matter the blood that stirred her father's body. Long dead, gone. Death to the unfaithful.

Eventyr did not wish to follow the raven with her gaze, but it drew the silver of her eyes all the same. Out of the wood and into the open air. What it had passed had broken the pale wolf’s gaze. A wolf who watched from the shadows, pelt cast in two different shades. Eventyr stared. She drew her snout into the air and sniffed, ears swiveling. The fragrance of the wolf was familiar in the way of acquaintances. Eventyr did not know her name.

The color of her coat should have stood out, too, she thought with a small frown. The white figure stepped a little closer. Perhaps they had never met before. Eventyr did not feel it was wise to waste her time searching memories. She was not as invested in the clan ways as her kin. Nevertheless, the color of the girl’s fur was…

Curious, she spoke icily.

she dined with ravens, and when she looked upon the maggots squirming within what she was reduced to eat, she thought of a specific child. one marked. yet unwanted.

a raven kept her company as she walked back to her hovel, but even that dark compatriot soon flew away. she heard its single croak before walking into the open, and realized a moment too late it was a warning.

wolves.

wolves in her valley.

she was on the very edge of rivenstone, rocks and saplings which once decorated it long misplaced. her ample hackles rose and her whole self stilled at the sight.

perhaps if she remained so, if her coat blended in well-enough, the intruders wouldn't see. wouldn't know.

the bearwoman felt her heart hammer like a drumbeat.

cameo unless interacted with

he'd eaten his meal in company of beast neither wolf nor bear. it made no move to eat him, and kept quiet. why would it even think to speak to a raven?

when nothing remained of the porcupine but its quills, they both left and let the flies make do with the rest.

out in the open was a creature that confused him less. wolf, pale. he didn't know why, but he cawed at the sight of it.

there was a kind of greeting between the silver-white and purple-black, in which sounds were exchanged. he couldn't guess at the meaning of its, but his was a clearing of the throat.

he flew off, and along the way saw another two.

for some reason, he cawed again.

(maybe the bearwolf should know?)

cameo

I'm fine with keeping the cameo of both the beardog, and the raven, but will interact if you like :)

The pale she wolf's gaze caught sight of her, it prickled all over her pelt, making her itchy and strange. Caught her.  She tilted her head and moved a pace forward, proper manners dictated she speak to one that shared her name, that they at least interact despite that she was her father's child, but she was also her mothers child. Mothers.

Inkeri nodded. Always curious. But the pelt is telling. She shifted and watched the raven move onward.

They were not alone. A dark beast with oddly shaped features stood lingering in the background of their momentary conversation. Its face was dense, squashed flatter than a wolf, but it walked on four legs and carried a dark coat upon its back. Perhaps the Svartravn clan had found another creature to worship. Eventyr did not wish to speak to the strange thing. She did not trust its peculiarities enough. The dark-winged raven cawed again.

Eventyr swiveled a single ear in the direction of the not-wolf. Her eyes remained fixed on the peculiar coat variations in the woman across from her. In their homeland, this wolf would be considered a travesty.

You are… one of the cursed ones, hm?

Though her tone remained rather icy, Eventyr tried to keep her eyes from traveling to the dark marring of her otherwise pale coat. Their feuds had proven something curious. When a wolf was born sharing the colors of both the Svartravn and Kvitravn clans, they were usually cast out. Was that this stranger’s reason for being in new land?

Ink did not like the squashed creature that watched them. She made her nervous, judging. They were always judging. Never kind. This creature was probably no different. Ink moved away from the strange creature, didn't like it. Didn't trust it.

Her words like always cut deep, hurt the both world girl. Inkeri shifted and tilted her head. One of the cursed ones. Cursed, broken, wrong. 

Inkeri gave a sharp nod. Yes, I walk in both trees.

The mixed one nodded. Eventyr offered a thin-lipped smile that did not reach her eyes.

You need not worry about me. But I cannot speak for any others who have followed the ravens to these lands. Even still, some part of her felt the familiar distaste bubbling in the back of her throat. Eventyr had not wanted to go to war, but she had still been raised by her people. Their culture was part of her very core. Though she might not draw her fang to attack the cursed one, she felt an uneasy energy surrounding her.

Which clan do you belong with?

With a coat that mixed, she could have belonged to either Svartravn or Kvitravn. It was surprising that she had been allowed to live into adulthood. Eventyr could not think why they would have allowed it. It intrigued her to linger for a while longer.

There was coldness in this ones' smile, she was not a kind one. Perhaps she would act kind, but she would eventually be like all the others. Her teeth and claws would find her pelt and she would rip and tear. Tear.

Her words were met with surprise, and Inkeri studied her, to gauge was she serious, did she not mean her any harm. She would be the first. Though life had gotten better after Anja was given the title of blessed, not much. Inkeri simply followed her sister.

Kvitravn, like mother, but the poison in her womb was Svartravn. Two trees, two poisons.

Ah, her parents had been cross-clan lovers. What a shame that they had left their daughter to deal with the impact of their blasphemy. Eventyr had never seen a wolf come from both Svartravn and Kvitravn. She imagined that if there had been any in her clan, they would have exercised their right to eliminate the pups before they could grow into abominations. As the pale wolf listened to the mixed one speak, she grew uneasy with the realization that they were no different from the rest.

I worship Kvit, too. Whether that had been obvious or not, Eventyr felt it was necessary to show that they had something in common. The mixed woman appeared slightly uneasy, as though waiting for someone who might show up to answer these questions for her. A pale ear swiveled atop the white wolf’s head, scanning for sounds. What will you do here, wolf of two clans?

The shame of her parents still dug into her pelt, and she could hear her mother's words over and over again. Filth, abominations, i should have drowned you. Curse your twice bitten father and his flea bitten hide. Poisonous, he spoke poison and he ruined me, ruined me.

It had made Inkeri shrink, be small, she hadn't wished to be born, hadn't wished to be alive, but they would not let her die, Anja would not let her die. Die. Some had wanted to murder, but their mother was high ranking and a part of her when she had still loved their father had wanted them, but once she realized he was gone, that he was killed. The blame fell at their feet. Their feet.

Inkeri nodded her head. Glad that they shared one thing, but a part of Inkeri also felt a reverance for Svart, but she didn't worship him, just was careful around him and his worship.

I will follow Anja, do as Anja wants she is a blessed one, not like me

When the girl spoke, she mentioned someone named Anja. She said that she would go where Anja wanted, that she had been blessed. Eventyr wondered if the unknown Anja was a spirit who had stolen her way into the half-wolf’s head. The only company that had found them was the unknown four-legged creature and the raven. The pale runner wondered if the bird was the one called Anja – blessed by Svart and given the blackest feathers. Eventyr’s pelt twitched slightly at the thought.

Anja is blessed by Kvit? She could speak for you. The blessing of Kvit is a sacred thing. Eventyr did not understand fully. The strange halfling’s words were mysterious. They hinted at something beyond the mortal realm. The white figure shifted her weight upon her paws. You are content to leave your people? This question was weighted in the air. Eventyr was not certain that she could answer such a thing for herself.

Anja her sister, her life blood, the one she was bound too, the one she loved. Obsessively, kindly, mostly. Anja heard the spirits she followed the old ways, she had fought and fought to change the tide, but finally their family had said no more. No more.

Inkeri frowned, trying to think of what to say and how to answer. She was blessed yes, by Kvit yes. Though she wasn't certain. Spirits did not talk to her.

Anja is blessed by Kvit yes. She speaks to spirits.

Her next question drew a twisted smile from Inkeri as she thought about her answer. What family? They did not like us, only raised us because our mother was high. Hated us, ousted us. Treated us less then vermin. Then Anja was blessed and they were fine with us, changed their voices. Then ousted us again.

Piecing together her story, Eventyr was able to determine that they were sisters – or at least family of sorts. It seemed that the wolves of their clan did not want them. They had been seen as cursed. The pale runner did not like that she understood why. She found herself curiously thinking of the girl’s other part. Was Anja cursed with the colors of two clans, as well? How had Kvit blessed her when she shared the darkness of Svart?

I see. The white figure’s tail wavered once. Only partial answers could be found in the halfling’s tale. Eventyr was not surprised that they had been cast out from their people. It was fortunate that they were not killed, despite their mother’s role in the clan. Cursed was cursed.

Eventyr tilted her head softly.

What will Anja do in these lands? That seemed a better question. If this one was not of her own free will – if she was tethered spiritually to Anja – then it would do no good to ask her of her plans. The leader of their duo, however, was more promising.

Inkeri spoke in riddles, her words were often wrong and everywhere but right. However, she was not a stupid wolf. And her words could not soothe, but she understood more than she shared. Anja could understand her, Anja could fix it.

Anja seeks to bridge the two packs. She sees peace. She is a seer. The fight between families is foolish, but not many see as we do.

She wished not for the first time that her sister was here. Anja could make this better, she could speak better, share her own truths. Inkeri tilted her head and dipped her muzzle. Anja would get her peace she hoped.

A quiet hum fell from her lips.

Anja sought to bridge the clans, to bring them together. The halfling stated that there were others who did not see things the way she did, the way Anja did too. Eventyr did not believe that a seer could predict the repair of the two warring clans. As she stood on new ground and spoke with the halfling, the pale wolf knew that her sister hunted her. Berserkir would find her, in time.

It is difficult to make the river flow the opposite way. A small frown met her lips.

Eventyr wondered what the cursed ones would do when faced with death.

And if they hunt you? Moon silver eyes locked to the other woman’s face. Eventyr’s expression did not shift or waver. She wished to know what the peacebringers would do in the face of violent snapping fangs and brute strength.

Inkeri tilted her ears forward, the soft hum reminiscent of the sound her mother would make when she was not angry.

Inkeri did not know if her sister could bring about peace, but it was Anja. Anja. For Anja she would do what was required, she would follow, and fight and possibly die. Always for Anja. Her second heart, the soul outside her body. Always Anja.

Inkeri gave a mirthless laugh, it was true. She nodded her head in agreement, it was very true.

Inkeri blinked at her and shrugged a shoulder. If they come after me I die. If they come after Anja. I fight. If my death is what Kvit would like or even Svart for surely both gods have cursed us. Then my life blood they shall have.::

they had seen her, but found one another more intriguing than her diminutive self. 

first, bernadette was torn. between running to the hovel where her daughters were, or the opposite way, to misguide them if followed. the later would be selfless and maternal, but a part bitterly wished that her accursed, useless children not outlive her.

then, a small ear twisted when the wind shifted and brought her their scents - which meant nothing - and their words, which were intriguing.

their language, to be precise. her study of human deities, her desire to not have context lost in translation, led her to lessons in swedish from an immigrant's cat.

what these wolves spoke was either not exactly it, or the same language spoken with a dialect. words drifted to her -

worship

blessed

seer

- and again her heart beat faster, except this time it was with excitement.

my kind, the thought echoed, reverberating trough her skull as the beardog took a tentative step past the treeline. and another.

and soon strolled halfway to where they conversed.

she woofed to interject.

hope yall don't mind me! i will try to be quick <3

the bloodseer had been away, and her sister had wandered. the ravens had come for her in the night, and they had taken her far from her body. when she returned, she was alone. she knew this feeling; a cold, unbearable thing.
her own thoughts felt too small, too wavering to fill the empty space left behind.
she went after inkeri.
and when she found her, there were others. a pale wolf, no threat to them as far as anja knew - but something else, too. not a wolf. not right. she drew up at inkeri's side, eyes wandering first over the pale wolf, then over the not-wolf. the ghost of a snarl shadowed her features as she looked at the ugly creature, but she settled herself and made no move to threaten it. for now, she watched.

The dark beast approached, drawing closer upon heavy paws with a thickset frame. Eventyr eyed the beast with a curious and icy glare. She did not know why it wished to intrude on their conversation, but she did not like the idea that an emissary of Svart would openly approach. The one who had been speaking had prattled on about fighting and death, seemingly unbothered by her decision to hold fast to her morals in the face of such danger. Logic could not be given to her, or to her sister.

But another appeared, drawing toward them on swift steps. The stranger stepped alongside Inkeri and, for the first time, Eventyr realized that this must be the holy sister – the one who had the entire devotion of her kin.

Anja, I assume? Eventyr glanced toward the dark not-wolf again. And a guard of yours? Another guess. Why else would the strange creature draw so close to them? The sensation that she was being cornered by unfamiliars made her wary. It would not be long before she would need to leave.

The black beast moved closer, and it agitated Inkeri. She shifted and moved, her body sinuously and careful. Eyes on the beast. No guard. Guard. Do not know. Her voice clearly showed her agitation, and she watched with busy eyes, every step the creature took.

She didn't like to fight for her own sake, but let anything come near her sister and her body became an instrument, and she would lay her life down in a second for Anja. Inkeri brushed against Anja, a rumble once, twice in her throat. Merely warning, nothing else.

from closer she could ponder the meaning of their monochrome coats, wonder if they were related in some way to each other. 

the beardog halted at conversational distance, dangerously near if any struck, but her heart beat so loud it drowned out reason.

">hail.<" spoken in the neighboring language, in accent of one who hadn't mastered it. ">you talk... things not-ground. holy things. i am, also, learned. what gods is yours? what bring you here?<" 

the thick anatomy of her face kept her expression neutral, but beneath the awnings of heavy brows, bernadette's eyes had an eager spark.