Sun Mote Copse i'd rather chase the Sun than wait for it.

There was only one place more Fig wanted to visit before he headed East, and that was the golden forest he crept through now. Of the three, the copse was most familiar to him. He hadn’t lived there any longer than he had the strath, but he had been older then, so the memories weren’t too far out of his grasp. It also struck him as being the least changed of the three, but that again was likely just the perspective of a child versus that of a young man.

The afternoon was dulling into evening, which was just the right time to be in Sun Mote Copse. The light that glimmered through the trees made the little particles of flora that floated through the woods glitter through the air. It was an almost ethereal sight that brought a smile to Fig’s face as he strode amongst the trees, nipping here and there at the motes that drifted too close.

*waves shyly*

The evening sun warmed up Wren's back as her aimless wandering had taken her from flooded plains into the cover of trees, pink-hued light dancing between their leaves and painting her fur golden. Tired, thirsty, and growing colder was she, still trying to rid herself of the scent of recent acquaintances that clung to her. It posed vulnerability while traveling through unclaimed lands, at least in her eyes. It told stories of where she had been. 
It was then that her lonesomeness had faded, the sound of snapping twigs hitting her ears and unfamilliar scent filling her nose. She did not speak yet, only watched with careful eyes for the shadow of whoever the scent belonged to.

Amused as he was by catching motes, Fig was not otherwise oblivious to his surroundings. So, when he came near enough to another to begin to feel their eyes on him, he paused to listen to the tension in his frame.

His ears perked as he turned his head from one side to the other, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the air. He did not spy her, so had only his gut to go on when he spoke a tentative, ”Is someone there?” out into the sunlit woods.

A rather meek sound ricochets from off of the trees and into Wren's ears. A male, presumably. Ashen ears swivel forward and long, rawboned legs carry her through patches of ragweed. It was then when she'd found him, a stranger on his lonesome, not unlike her.

I promise you're not going crazy, one lip curls upward in the shape of an awkward, crooked smile, teeth shown, but not necessarily out of malice. She hops forward, curiosity seeming to take hold of her as she draws closer; tail high and stiff, movements jagged and clumsy. Unsure. Jesus, dude, you've got some... really green eyes.

A response came from the empty air, which shortly thereafter held the form of the speaker in it. Fig stiffened at the sight of her, but relaxed some when he found no trace of threat on her. A memory swept through his mind of someone he hadn't thought of in ages. Finley Blackthorn. Penn's mother. They had the same chocolate colored eyes and ashen coat.

Coincidentally, it seemed their minds had gone to the place. Or rather, their eyes. Her comment brought a smile to his face and a soft laugh from his lips. "So I've been told," Fig replied with a wag of his tail, "And yours are very brown."

Thanks? I think? Wren's eyes narrow, creases forming in between eyebrows. Confused, but not angry. An oddly friendly guy, this one, a bit jarring compared to the few she'd met thus far. She hadn't the energy to perform her typical dance with those she did not recognize the smell of, and so she perches herself on a log, stumbling momentarily as she finds her footing. She sits back on her haunches, nails digging into the bark in order to hold her balance. She looked tall from up here, almost larger than her suitor, and so she slouches in an attempt to hide it.

Hate to ask yah this, but, d'y'know where we are? Her head tilts to the left, exposing the cream-colored fur of her neck, ruffled and covered in a thin blanket of dirt. I'm not from here. Still learning.

Fig couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her reaction to his question. All he'd done was turn hers around on her, but it seemed to throw her nonetheless. He thought she might say more, but she instead turned the conversation to a question that was apparently on her mind.

"This area is called Sun Mote Copse," Fig answered, "And we're in the Western-most region of the Teekon Wilds. I grew up near these parts, and I actually lived with a pack in this territory a long time ago." He looked up at the trees, seeing them through younger eyes. He remembered walking through these very trees with his father when he was a kid and accidentally running into Phox's legs because he'd been too busy staring up at the treetops to watch where he'd been going.

He smiled at the memory, then looked back at the girl. "My name is Fig," he said, "You are..?"

She hesitates momentarily before she answers. Wren, one ear flicks backward. Her own name was beginning to sound harsh on her ears the more she introduced herself to various strangers. I, uh, met someone in a pack from around here the other day. Her other ear follows the first, pinning to the sides of her head in a bashful airplane motion. She wouldn'r elaborate on who it was. Perhaps he knew, or maybe he didn't.
You like it here? Her nervousness had faded into curiosity. 'Fig' seemed to be open enough to indulge her in her inquiries. Not that you know what it's like anywhere else, but... y'know. 

Wren. A nice name. Simple, and somehow fitting. Fig smiled and gave a nod, though he didn't voice his comments aloud. She seemed shy, so he made the assumption that a compliment might send her further into her shell. He didn't want that, so he didn't take the chance.

"Did you? It wouldn't happen to be Ulrich, would it?" Fig asked, curious. As far as he knew, there were no other packs in the area other than the one at Two Rivers Isle. He didn't know any other wolves who were part of the man's pack, though it could easily have been one of his.

In any event. "I do," Fig answered, "It's a little... dim for my taste, though. I like forests, but I prefer ones with more open spaces. More air to breathe, if that makes sense?" He left it on a question, hoping to entice her into sharing her own thoughts on the matter.

Ulrich. An unfamiliar name, one her rendezvous partner had not so much as mentioned. Nah, don't know an Ulrich. She shuffles uncomfortably, weight shifting from one side to the other. Her intention was to keep things vague, on that front. He was her secret, and that he would remain. She was a woman of her word, if anything. 
S'a little too... wet out here, her lips curls up into a smirk, a little snicker following it. Lotta rain. Wasn't expecting so much rain when I moved here, but eh, what can yah do. S'better than where I come from. 
It was then when she'd decided to hop from her log, making a janky approach towards Fig and pressing her nose to his flank. Her instinctual urge to know his scent seemed to win her over. He smelled strongly of freshwater and sap, earthy, yet pleasant. She pulls back abruptly, blinking at him, now with their faces much closer together. Jesus, his eyes were so green. She wondered, momentarily, what his parents must have looked like in order for him to hold such a strong emerald gaze. They were kind, welcoming eyes, a feature that seemed more inviting the more she spoke to him. 
If you don't mind me asking, she juts out her lower lip. where's your family at? Why're you all alone out here?

She confessed to not knowing Ulrich, to which Fig responded with an understanding humm. It had been a long shot, and it didn't much matter anyway. It simply would've been an interesting coincidence that they'd both recently met the same man.

Fig laughed gently at her comments about the rain. "It has been a wet Spring so far," he commented casually, "Hopefully we'll see more sun as Summer gets closer. There are a lot of wetlands this side of the Barrier Mountains, though. If you decide to head that way, there are more plains and dry lands to the East."

He stiffened slightly when she decided to make her approach, but relaxed when her actions proved harmless. He did the same to her as she did to him, making note of her scent so he'd recognize it in the future if ever they crossed paths again. He smiled when her gaze found his again, finding her inquisitive, thoughtful expression to be charming.

"My family is scattered around the Wilds," Fig responded, "At least, I believe they are. They were when I was here last, though that was some time ago." He considered her last question for a moment before answering, uncertain just how much he really wanted to share. Not that he didn't trust her—Fig was an open book to any who wanted to read. He just wasn't sure how much of his drama she really wanted to know.

"My sister and I had a bit of a falling out," he said finally, "We were very close our whole lives, so I took it kind of hard. I left the area to spend some time on my own to sort through it and only recently decided to come back to visit my parents and to find her to make amends."

i'm SO sorry for the terribly late reply, i've been out of town but i have made my return!

Wren's expression falters. Softens, even, eyes rounding at the edges and mouth falling to a slight frown. She'd, admittedly, mostly tuned out his description of the forest, but hearing the words sister and falling out made her ears visibly perk.

She knew that feeling. She understood probably better than anyone.

I'm sorry to hear that, she croaks out, a genuine display of sympathy, though crackly and watered down. I get it. Something like that happened to me, too, Her feet wobble, standing on the balls before leaning forward on her toes again. not to get all, y'know, personal on yah, but a falling out with my sister is kinda why I'm here. Her voice fades out into something like a broken whine, her statement left open ended. Should he inquire further, she would perhaps elaborate, but for now, she would leave it in the air. It sat, stagnating and growing cold, as did the pained memories behind it.

Fig was surprised to hear her confession. Not only that she offered one when it was clearly so personal, but that her troubles were so reminiscent of his own. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable by prying, but his curiosity was a hard thing to deny. Especially when he saw a soul in pain that he might have the words to comfort.

"I'm sorry to hear that too," Fig said gently, "You have a sympathetic ear if you want someone to listen." He gave her a reassuring smile.

no worries at all!

Iris. 
A name Wren had not said nor heard in months, one that was almost foreign to her now as it slipped off her tongue. A scramble of sounds that made less and less sense as time went on. 
Her name is Iris, her eyes go out of focus as she stares blankly at a nearby tree. She watches the birds that chatter amongst themselves, and briefly, she wishes she could be one with them. she's, like, everything that I'm not. My fatha, An audible crack forms within her voice. was not a good man. He, uh, didn't like either of us, but... she's, y'know, nicer. Prettier. The favorite. Which is fine, It was not, actually, and yet she shrugs as if it was. and when our pack went kaput, she didn't wanna come with me. Turned into a whole fiasco. Said a lotta shit to each other that we probably shouldn't've. But, uh, I guess I don't blame her. 
She is perfectly still. Her shoulders are tense, yet rest low. There is nothing left to do with the pain now that it is out in the open. 

She is hollow. 

Sorry. That was a lot. 

Fig was quiet and attentive while Wren shared her story. She spoke of her family, of cruel fathers and independent sisters. It wasn't much like his own story, but one piece lingered in his mind. The fight that ensued when her sister chose not to follow. A sentiment Fig knew he might soon have to share with his own family—that he had come, but he wasn't planning to follow.

"No need to be sorry," Fig said with a kind smile, "When it comes to family, I've found there's usually quite a lot to say." He considered the story again for a moment and, though he knew it was a selfish pursuit, he decided to ask, "Do you forgive her?"

Did she? 

At that, she seems stumped, eyebrows crossed as glass eyes finally find their way back to Figment. 
I don't know, actually, is what she settles on. Her voice mirrors the fragility she feels, as if she may shatter beneath those sad, sad emerald eyes of his. A shared pain between them, but one she wishes didn't have to be shared. A pain no one deserved. 

She wanted him to look away before she started crying, and yet she didn't say anything about it.
Do you forgive yours? 

Wren’s confession was not what Fig had hoped she’d say. It didn’t inspire much hope in him for his own family issues, but he was smart enough to know that what happened to others didn’t dictate what would happen to him. He gave an understanding nod and glanced down at his paws, losing himself in thought for a moment before she brought his attention back with a question.

”I think I do,” Fig said after a moment of hesitation, ”I’m learning to accept that she is who she is, much as some of her qualities might… trouble me. But I think more importantly, I’m learning that I am who I am. And I shouldn’t be too hard on myself for being so troubled. We all have a right to our feelings, even the ones we don’t wish to feel.”

He paused for another moment and then smiled, ”And after all. What is forgiveness but acceptance?” Fig have a little shrug. He knew he and Fenn would be fine eventually. They were family. They would figure it out.

wanna wrap up? <3

last one from me <333 fig is so lovely! i'm glad we kept this thread going for so long lolol thank you for writing with me!

Maybe you're right, she sniffles, the lids of her eyes squeezing shut. The quiet hangs in the air for a moment, a solemn kind of quiet; one that says more than words could, until she breaks it.
I'm glad we met, she whispers, staring with saucer-shaped eyes that pool with the glimmer of sunshine. She bathes in the burning. I hope your sister comes around, man. You deserve it. 

And maybe their idle conversation lasts until it were to fizzle out with the onset of night, or maybe it doesn't. Either way, she would part from him with a kind smile as if she had known him for years, and the man with the emerald eyes and the trouble with his sister would be thought about for weeks onward. Another to add to the list of many who the natural eb and flow of comnection had taken from her.
But she would not forget. Some part of her hoped he wouldn't, either.