Stone Circle This wolf

Inkeri was in the outskirts of the packlands, keeping to herself, but watching over the wolves among them. There as a happy air to her as she moved about her heim. Her thoughts on those that lived among them and on Merry.

She knew there was more to her feelings for the wolf, than she would like to admit, but she would keep it to herself for now. Instead she moved along the pack borders adamant to do something until a message needed ran.

Body of Ink and Paper wound through the trees and the forest floor. The stone circle always in her line of sight. At least the tallest rocks.

Skáld found his way to the pack’s most prominent and unusual landmark, as he often did, so he might lay in the shade of one of the tall stones and have a nap. There, he could rest in the lee of the stone, and the breeze would barely ruffle his curly fur. He passed noontime, when the shadow grew short and disappeared, and found himself glowing with warmth when he awoke.

He at up and shook the daisy petals from his pelt. He’d forgotten that he’d picked a few, but had rolled over them while napping- they wouldn’t be a fit gift for Tauris now.

Movement in the trees caught his eye, and he saw amid the tall trees, a wolf whose pelt could have had them disappear in a stand of birch trees. Skáld let out a quiet, polite boof! in greeting for the one who wandered nearby.

Inkeri heard the small boof and turned with a small smile. She tried to remeber which one this was. It was one of the babes born last spring. Ah yes Skald.

Though her icelandic wasn't very good she picked up enough and it was close enough to norwegian that she was comfortable enough to give him a greeting in his own tongue.

Hello Skald. How are you?

Her eyes were glassy, sea-green, and lit up at the sight of him. Having become quite adept at reading facial expressions (given the language barrier he often faced) he tilted his head to see her look upon him with something he thought looked like recognition.

He was prepared for another awkward encounter where he fumbled with the English language- but nearly tilted his head an abrupt 90 degrees when she spoke to him in Icelandic!

”You speak-? He blurted, before he realized something else. She even knew his name. ”How do you know who I am?” He asked, searching for anything he might recognize.

Inkeri never hid her feelings about anything. She wore them for the world to see. This was no different. She recognized him and he was young. It was nice to know the younglings of the pack.

She held up a paw. Slowly and only a little, my home language is similar to yours.

She smiled and had to think of the right words. Her pronunciation lacking and some of her own words thrown in, but she could make sense mostly. I was there when you were born. Well not there, but nearby. I knew Sanja.

His heart pattered in his chest. He thought perhaps this might have been a relatin to him, and perhaps she even knew where his mother was, or why she kept leaving...But when she spoke Sanja's name in the past tense, he knew it would be useless to ask. His features fell a bit, though he was given a slight glimmer of hope nevertheless. She'd seen him when he'd been very new- perhaps she knew more of his early life. 

He did as she asked, and spoke slowly. "Were there others? Brothers and sisters?" He asked. "And a father- do I have one?"

Inkeri wished she was part of his family by blood. Though she felt ties of binding to him, despite that they weren't, but she wasn't sure if he felt the same. If any of them felt the same.

She tilted her head and nodded slowly. two more boy and girl. No idea where went. Went. Gunnar was there to adopt you if you wanted. Wanted. He adopt Bjarna.

She had to think really really hard how to say some of what she wanted and she was positive she had slipped some of her own language in there without meaning too, but she hoped it was easily understood.

”Three more siblings?” he blurted in surprise. He had no memory of them- and only glimpses of the face of his mother ”I did know know…But where? Where did they go?” He asked visibly troubled. ”And my father…Who was he?”

Inkeri shook her head Only two in your birth order, Bjarna older.

Inkeri settled down sadly. [I]I don't know. Sanja left and they followed. She took girl with her. Her. I sorry I don't know who dad is. Is.

He shook his head abruptly- of course, he knew that Bjarna was older. But the fact that he had two other littermates was very surprising to him, given how little he could recall from his earliest days. His family had always been quite small, though it saddened him to know that it could have been larger, if only his siblings had stayed. He wished for Bjarna to return, and Sanja as well; of his earliest family, only Gunnar now remained at Kvarsheim. 

He tried to muster up a grateful smile for Inkeri, though it saddened him still to know he was missing more family than he'd originally expected. "Maybe they will come back someday," He said wistfully. He looked to her, with doleful eyes. "You came back...I got lost, and came back," He said. If he could will it to happen, he would have done so already. 

"You will stay now, yes?" He asked, then. It seemed to be the nature of wolves to come and go- but it seemed to hurt more and more every time they did.

Inkeri didn't know what had happened to the other two, but she often wondered about the girl. Sanja had left with the girl in her mouth and then returned with nothing and no one and no story to tell of the girl.

Maybe they will. We can hope for that. I will stay. Stay.

She had no intention of leaving. And she hadn't left for long before either. Only long enough to travel when she needed too. She was a scout and an ambassador after all, or at least trying to be. Though she had yet to hold such a title.

His tail waved as a sign of his relief. He knew now not to expect others might come back- but she gave him some reason to believe that he could have hope that she might stay. He dreaded departures as they presented him with an unknown, something he was not in control of. He could not simply call Bjarna back to him with prayers and silent pleas, nor could he sing a song to summon his mother back to the pack either. But helping them stay? That he could do. 

"I am glad." He said, reaching to touch her jawline appreciatively, fondly with his nose if she would allow. "Inkeri like flowers?" He asked then, hoping perhaps she might- and that he could delve into his secret interest with her.

This young man had a lot of tribulations and trials in his life already. This saddened the ink and paper wolf that knew such things well. Perhaps his weren't as terrifying as her's had been, but then again. Who was she to say something was worse than something else. To him the things he went through may be considered worse than her own trials. And unfortunately it was a lesson in life that she had also had to learn the hard way. That some go and some stay and you never really know who it's going to be that does either.

She smiled at his gentle touch and didn't move. I do they're pretty

Skáld was pleased to hear that she liked flowers. He wasn't surprised- he'd never met anyone who hated them, nor could he understand why anyone might look at them and pass them off as trivial. he'd begun learning the secrets of the flowers, and how they would not only be ornamental but useful as well. 

In this case, though, Inkeri expressed appreciation for the look of flowers, so while he considered sharing (and potentially oversharing) what he knew about the medicinal properties of a few different plants, he spotted a cluster of small, periwinkle blue and purple flowers nearby. Their scent was very faint, and their flowers very small, but he found them charming nonetheless and with careful precision he clipped a sprig of them and brought them to Inkeri, as a gift. 

"Forget-me-not," He said, with a shy smile. "For you."

Inkeri knew that flowers were instrumental in healing. As well as plain grasses and other such plants, but she had never learned. This was something that she didn't wish to pursue. But she held respect for those that did. It was a lot to learn and remember and if they were not well learned it could be disastrous. But Skald seemed to be on the right track.

She smiled at the small sprig and cradled it gently with her paw. It is beautiful. Beautiful. Thank you. You. Is it just for smelling? Smelling? Or does it help to heal too? Too?

She looked at him while she held the tiny delicate thing in her paw.

She had expectations for the flower, which made Skáld feel a little bit ashamed of himself having plucked it. The forget-me-not could have been medicinal, but this was not one he had been told about. They grew here and there, alongside the creek's edge, and in the shade where it could blossom freely. But he had not yet been told that any part of the plant could be useful, and with its scent being so faint, he doubted that it was, in fact, an herb. 

But he knew another use. 

"Do this," He said, lowering his head as a demonstration.

She didn't mind that it was simply to smell good. She bent her nose to it and inhaled happily and smiled at him with brilliance.

Best use of all. All. Happiness

She leaned over, and he went to pick the flower up again, though he halted, giving her a moment to inhale its gentle fragrance. He smiled and wriggled, knowing he would likely surprise her. While her head was lowered, he reached out and timidly pawed the flower back to himself, so he could pick it up, and place it atop her head, near her ear so that it might balance and stay there a moment. The blue and purple of the flower brought out the sea-gleam in her eyes. 

"Best use is this, flower-crown!" He said with a nod.

She was surprised and for a moment disappointed that he took it from her. But then he placed it near her ear and she giggled. She shifted and lifted her head, looking for the nearest water source so she could see.

With gentle steps she headed towards it and leaned over another giggle leaving her maw. So pretty. Pretty. Thank you, Skald. Skald.

She moved her head from side to side admiring it from all views. It was pretty and so delicate. It was nice and she was pleased with his sweetness.

He admired his choice of flower as well, and was glad that Inkeri seemed pleased. It seemed that while flowers could be medicinal, and could smell pretty, that they also had their use for sentimental purposes as well. Cheering a wolf up, and making them feel pretty must have had some benefits as well. And perhaps through plants- even ones which could not be ground into a paste, or steeped in water, or plastered onto a wound, flowers could be used to heal- and he would discover the little hidden languages that they had. 

"Very pretty. Favourite colour?" He asked.

Inkeri found the flower nice to look upon. And the faint scent stuck to her fur. She wondered if Merry would like the scent and the sight of the flower in her ink and paper fur.

There was more to flowers than healing. This she knew. It was nice to have pretty things in her life. And she imagined he would find this out on his own too.

She blinked and nodded. Very pretty. Pretty. No. Green. Green.

Green was her favorite color. The color of tall trees and fresh grass. Green.

Though a wolf's eyes were no indication of their favourite colour, Skáld would have guessed that Inkeri's colour might be the same vibrant blue-green of her gaze. He wasn't sure why he thought this, but he was both surprised and lightly disappointed that he'd chosen flowers for her that weren't her favourite colour. It would be even more difficult for him to find her flowers which were green- without giving her something that had yet to flower and reveal its true colours. Perhaps ferns might do, though he wasn't sure they would be as showy as a blossom. 

"Mine too," He said, after having given it a moment of thought. Green was the colour of life, of plants- of herbs. It was also the colour of his mother's eyes, which he missed.

Inkeri loved all colors, but for a long time. She had hated her own. More indicstion that she was a half breed and not fully Kvitravn nor Svartravn. The prejudices of both her families long and deep.

She smiled. i like green cause of trees. Trees. And moss. Moss. So very soft moss is. Is.

"Me too!" Skáld said, delighted in their similarities. Of course, he'd potentially never realized that he liked green because it reminded him of plants, but now that Inkeri had mentioned it, it made complete sense to him. Her fondness for moss was noted, and he thought perhaps there might be some way to gift her with some, to line her den, though from what he knew, moss liked a high level of humidity and grew best in the shade, near water. Perhaps moss wouldn't make for an excellent gift at her den- but maybe he could find another place that might suit her along the stream, where he could encourage the moss to grow. Skáld was very much a gift-giver in nature, and also treasured the secrets and stories of the wolves he loved. 

"What is your favourite tree?" He asked, keen to learn more about some of Inkeri's favourite things.

Inkeri mostly liked to nap on moss. It was cool and soft especially when so hot. Moss was useful too. Though it eluded her those lessons.

She hummed in thought and then nodded. Oak or maple. Sturdy strong. Big leaves. Leaves. And when it falls in fall so pretty colors and crunchy. Crunchy

Yes she liked fall amd the pretty leaves then too. So many colors. And they made a satisfying noise when crunched