Shadewood outside the norm

maybe @Ulrich?

He came by way of the coast, following the gravel that lined the sand where the surf had pushed it, until the sand gave way to frozen ground, and then to forest. The darkness of the forest was something he had always been taught to avoid; it was so much colder there, and there were many twists and turns! 

By the time he'd made it out the other side, Goliad had been lost for a day and a half. He had not eaten, he had only supped from pools of half-frozen water that tasted sour. His head swam with a hunger headache. It was unwise for him to have come so far, he mused — yet he could not turn back.

Where the forest ended, the land tipped down in to a valley made of mud and ice. He would have to be particularly careful moving through it, he thought. His first instinct was to seek out fresh water and then, if he was lucky, perhaps he would find something to eat before he froze to death in this frigid place.

:D

It had been many days since Ulrich had left the safety of the Isle. In truth, he did not see much reason for straying past the encircling arms of the rivers that bordered his home. It was safe there, and it was where Adylaide was. They had built up a few caches of food, although the caches were meager pickings. Still. The Isle offered safety, and all areas outside of it seemed risky to venture into.

However, there was something to be said for exploring the territories surrounding the Isle. He had to be sure there were no rival wolves setting up too near, nor any other dangers around. Here in this dark place were faint, old scents of wolves, but nothing fresh, and no tracks to follow. Except--for one. One scent, fresh. Wishing he had the numbers of the Isle with him, Ulrich traveled cautiously through the wood, praying to all the gods that whoever he found at the end of this scent trail would be friendly.

A flash of red through the trees! Hello! Ulrich called, confident but non-confrontational. The Isle had made him soft, but out here on his own, he had to put on the mask of the soldier again. Who is there?

The man was spritely like a deer, so it was a wonder that the dark wolf whom spotted him did not give chase as if for dinner. He called out and Goliad stopped immediately, turning his attention to the many dark chasms between the trees, seeking any light and in that light, answers.

The stranger was a hulking beast by comparison - a black bear in a past life, perhaps. Goliad took a moment to be watchful and skeptical, then decided this was not one of the bedu who might seek to return him home, and relaxed.

I am Goliad, he introduced.

What place is this? Is it yours? Perhaps he had encroached too far? These trails were winding, and the forest a tricky place.

The red man seemed afraid at first, and then visibly relaxed. This caused Ulrich to relax as well, now that he knew the man was not going to attack him. At least, he thought not.

I am Ulrich, he said, dipping his head in greeting.

"What place is this? Is it yours?"

Ah, no, Ulrich replied, quickly. No, I have never ventured here before. He glanced around a little more now that he was no longer tracking the stranger. It's... a bit spooky, isn't it? He had been in spookier places, but these dark woods filled him with some unease all the same. He did not like forests with trees so close together that he could not see the sky.

Knowing now it was not home to the dark man, Goliad could be free with his opinion without the potential to offend: It is abysmal. It is so dark I am surprised anyone could find their way. I have been stuck in this forest for too long - if you know of some way out, I would be in your debt.

That was possibly the headache talking, given that he hadn't eaten in so long; his tone was something bordering on a demand, and he recognized it afterwards but did not feel it necessary to apologize. Instead the fur along his shoulders prickled (imperceptibly given its short quality) and he added: I am from a place of open sky and golden grass, so it is... very different.

Hearing this man call these woods abysmal amused Ulrich, whose mouth quirked in a half-smile. Abysmal, he repeated. Yes. That is a good word for it.

"I have been stuck in this forest for too long - if you know of some way out, I would be in your debt."

Ulrich heard the demanding tone, and one ear flicked backwards in--what?--surprise? annoyance? He looked the man over, a soldier eyeing a surly new recruit. And then he let the tone of voice go. It did not matter, and, despite his tone, he had asked politely in words, at least.

The man spoke of his home, and Ulrich smiled wistfully to think of his birth pack--and then the smile soured into a frown at the memory of that traumatic night when he had fled with Adylaide. Your home sounds... better than mine, he murmured, and then cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders awkwardly. This stranger didn't know him and didn't need to know his troubled past. I do know the way out, yes. Actually, you're closer to the edge of this place than you realize. My home is--my new home is not far from here, and I was exploring a little outside of it. He turned, gesturing over his shoulder for the man to follow him out of the trees. It would take several minutes, but not so very long.

Oh? He had been so close and yet he had not seen the light! Goliad almost felt like cursing, but he did not want to invite any dark forces to follow him as he made his way, as it would not bode well for his future if spirits from this blackwood came to haunt him. The shadow he had found was benevolent enough to lead him the rest of the way, and when they emerged to the light again Goliad gave a sigh of relief.

It could have been a lie; the man could have been leading him anywhere at all, but the foreigner had to accept the aid. It was fortunate for Goliad that this man was not a nefarious sort. His black-barred tail whisked at the air a few times before sitting at his hocks.

Freedom! Clean air! It is so cold in this place, but I am glad. It is lucky that you found me or I would never have escaped that labyrinth. He was all praises now, his more demanding tone having evaporated now that the forest was truly behind him.

What is your home like - this new home, you said? Curious; was it a nomadic group that took refuge in the light, like his own people? Somehow Goliad doubted that to be the way of things here - these people that lived away from the sand and the golden hills, they had strange ways.

Ulrich smiled at Goliad; there was something about him that he liked, though he could not put his finger [claw? paw? lol] on exactly what. I am sure you would have made it out eventually, he said, good-naturedly. You have a nose and eyes the same as mine.

Goliad asked of his new home and Ulrich smiled again. The river sat to the right of him and he turned towards it. Across this river is my home. From this direction are rolling hills for many miles, and far south are woods, much more inviting than those we just left. We have a small pack there, consisting of my wife as well as a few others. He paused, thinking. I do not mean to be forward, but the winter is no time to be traveling alone. I do not know where you are headed, but if you need a place to stay, I welcome you to the Isle. Two Rivers Isle, for the land is surrounded on all sides by two connecting rivers--all the better for protection against outside threats.

Funny to think that when he had first discovered the isle, he had been determined to keep it a secret, to keep it hidden safely away from the world and share it only with Adylaide. And yet, the world seemed to have... other plans. And now that Makan and Iseul had joined, he felt the Isle was become some kind of sanctuary for those in need. Perhaps Goliad was a man in need.

The man spoke of his isle, and the rivers, and a wife! He was rich, then. A rich man who controlled quite an ideal spot of land; if Goliad was in any way conniving, or thrived the way his father did on stories of conquest, he might have wished to take it all from him. Goliad was no warrior though; he was a student above all, and could easily put aside such foolish notions. It sounded like a wonderful place — especially after being trapped in those dark woods.

The winter is hard, yes. It is something I am not fit for, or used to. The Sandsea — where I am from — would almost never get snow, and usually the very high places that nobody dared to visit! This place is -- it is like, I cannot put in to words how different. He rambled a bit, but it ended with a huffing laugh.

I am a scholar to my people. I carry their stories, their histories with me. It is my honor to do it. Would such a skill be of use to you? He could entertain with the older tales of conquest that his father told him as a boy, or share little things about the Sandsea and its people; but what good was that knowledge here in the winterlands?

I love Goliad already ;-;

The Sandsea... So Goliad was from a desert. At least, Ulrich assumed as much. He had never been to a desert himself, but he had heard of them, and he did not know where else would be called a Sandsea and be free of snow. They have... dunes in the desert, yes? he asked. Well... in the summer when the snow is gone, perhaps the rolling hills will remind you of the dunes? He wondered, though, whether a reminder of home would only make Goliad sad. It was only that he wished the man to feel he fit in.

Ah, a historian! Ulrich said, with feeling. I was only a soldier, myself, before, but our historians were treasured. I would not wish you to lose the stories of your home, and would love to hear them, but if you could put your talents to learning and remembering the history of the Isle, that would certainly be useful. We take all kinds. Of course... He trained a serious eye on the man now. You would be expected to hunt or fight if necessary, in times of great distress, but other than that, you would be free to pursue your interests, as long as you are doing something. He paused. Is that... does that sound reasonable? He could not help the sound of some small desperation in his voice. It had been only Adylaide and himself for weeks, and now that there were others, a small but growing pack, he could not help but wish for more and more to join. To become... family.

So the big man knew of the Sandsea! It was more than a place; it was the name of all deserts to Goliad's people; it was a term used for all the sandscapes, the dunes, the high and dry mesa, and everything in between. Strange to think of this shadow anywhere near the golden grasses - but perhaps he had been told stories by others who had come this way? Goliad was not the first, nor the last to venture so far.

I am sure your hills are lovely for their own reasons, Goliad began to say, but was cut off by the boisterous man and his enthusiasm. It struck him as a bit awkward, but that was only Goliad, who was not accustomed to loud displays such as this. Ulrich sounded pleased to know of his skill - and even welcomed it to his Isle. There was a catch (there was always a catch) but Goliad was accepting and amicable. He let a thin smile trace its way across his features.

He was no bedu — he was not born from the warrior caste, and had not been taught such things — but in times of great turmoil he might feel compelled to learn. I could gather the history of your Isle for you, and its people. He gave a stooped nod.

I think that sounds very reasonable. I do owe you a debt for your help with the darkwood, after all.

Good, Ulrich said simply. And so another member was added to the Isle's ranks. He smiled, satisfied. Come. I will show you where it is safe to cross the river. We must be careful, for the water is freezing. He paused, uncomfortable. And... you owe me no such debt. In the Isle, you do things because you want to. No one will force you to do anything. Then his overthinking brain took over. U-Unless you seriously break the rules, I suppose. No fighting. No causing trouble. But as long as you are kind to your fellow packmates, then... then everything will be fine. He nodded, then let the subject drop, not wanting to overwhelm Goliad with his anxious brain.

And off they went to find a smaller, shallower part of the river.