Blackfeather Woods watercolor melon

He could have kept going south, Ovaltine supposed, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd wrapped right around the mammoth mountain and headed north until he'd come to a decent-sized creek. From there, he wandered west. He wasn't tracking anything at all. In fact, he wasn't heading in any particular direction. Oval planned to zig-zag until he was zigged and zagged out. For the past two years, he'd zigged and zagged halfway across the earth (an exaggeration, of course) doing whatever pleased him. His gaunt figure was a testament to the fact that he hadn't had a decent meal in that amount of time. He scavenged and stole when he knew it wouldn't get him killed, and filled in the gaps with small game.

"Another pack," he muttered, stopping suddenly when he caught a whiff of their scent on the air. It was still a ways off, but he had no doubt that they would have sentries keeping watch, ensuring that their borders were not breached by scavengers like himself. The four year old licked his lips, then fell into a sit, observing the dark and moody forest with a neutral expression. His green eyes stared lazily into the bleakness of it, though he felt no need to venture further than he already was.

Potema was already beginning her training maneuvering about without both eyes. She spent hours going about familiar landmarks, and attempting to use her sense of smell and hearing instead of sight. It was a slow and arduous process, and she was slowly losing her temper, but a gentle voice in her head urged her on, and she did, making her way to the borders. But there was something wrong about this visit to the borders. And as the dark undergrowth of the forest parted, she saw an unfamiliar figure sitting nearby the border: an intruder.

She had never thought of being a warden before - it's not like that wasbound to happen now, with her missing one eye - and she had never defended her territory either, like her brothers had, especially Damien. But there was a time that even a (future) priestess had to stand up and fight for a time. The nearly half-year old melted from the shadows, fixing the intruder with her half-blind gaze. "You're a bit too close, loner." She said, raising her tail like she had seen the older wolves do.

A young, but certainly not small, wolf approached, almost instantly berating him for being too close. Ovaltine rose, stepped several strides backward, and spoke as he did so. "My apologies, miss." It took him a moment to realize that her left eye was torn to pieces, clearly lacking sight. That right there was a pity. So young, and already hindered by what he assumed was a senseless injury. Make no mistake, she would likely adapt, but it was still a shame. Things like that could be so easily avoided if taken care of properly. Perhaps this pack lacked a proper medicine man (or woman, for that matter).

Once he felt he had made it clear that he was not intending to get uncomfortably close, Ovaltine spoke again. "My name is Ovaltine Driftwood. Does this forest have a name?" He spoke to her as he would an adult. Clearly, she had gone through enough, and her stance was clear enough, that she understood how to act like one. Sure, she still had some filling out to do, but he was not about to talk to her as if she was a child.

If she knew it was this easy, she might have shown more interest. The intruder backed up swiftly when she made her presence and her wishes clear, apologizing as he did so. Now what? He wasn't trespassing anymore now, at least she didn't think he was. Nonetheless, the little princess kept her stance, though she lowered her tail, just a bit.

"Blackfeather Woods." She said, her single eye watching him warily. Her mother told her that the Dark Brotherhood were not the only spies living in the world. Some were freelancers, other taught from birth, like her brother was. She had to be careful. "After the birds." As if on cue, the squawks and quorks of ravens and crows spat out from the canopy above them, the leaves rustling and feathers dropping down gently despite the vicious fighting.

Ovaltine's ears swiveled and his green eyes attached themselves to the birds as they flew the coop (quite literally). This only lasted a second before he retargeted his attention to the young girl. "A fitting name," he replied, his smile easy and inviting. If he'd known her worries, he would have assured her that he was nothing of a spy. He rarely shared his information, unless it was requested of him to send a message. Spreading secrets was not his life's work.

"Your eye," he said, unwilling to ignore it any longer, "What happened?" Perhaps, if he could learn how hers had been injured, he could spread that information to others and prevent such injuries. That was something that aligned more closely with his morals. It would not harm her (or her pack) in the slightest if he did not reveal her name, and it was possible the information might be useful for future generations. Prevention was key to most injuries, after all.

She had not spent much time worrying about the birds. The princess was born in a time when they were quiet, because of winter, their war was at a standstill. But once the days became warmer and longer, their warring cries were all she heard, day and even night at times. The princess had heard that some of the crows and ravens could speak the wolf tongue, but she never took the time to find any of those.

Potema was taken aback when he asked about her eye. It was the first time that this had ever happened to her. Everyone in the pack knew what happened, and so everyone was used to it by now. But he was an outsider looking in, and he did not hear what happened to the princess of Blackfeather Woods. "I was attacked," She did not specify by who, because even she did not know. "And knocked unconscious. I don't know what happened, but I woke up blind in this eye."

"Oh my," Ovaltine replied, wondering who could do such a thing. Then again, he'd heard plenty of terrible stories from his travels. This wasn't the worst, though the outcome might have been. Her lack of sight in one eye would hinder her, whether she was willing to admit it or not. She would adapt, he assumed, but she would always have that handicap. Morbid curiosity had him wondering if it would shorten her lifespan. She would not be able to hunt as well, to protect herself as well, and she likely would not be considered a suitable mate for many.

"How long ago?" he queried. Her case was a unique one, and he was interested in learning more. It was a bit of a shame she didn't seem to know much about the actual incident or what had been involved. If others had been around, it seemed they had not given her the information. Perhaps they thought a child should not hear such things... although Ovaltine was of the mind that anybody going through such an experience should know what had happened to their own body.

"Oh my" sounded wrong on Potema's ears. It sounded casual, something her mother would say sarcastically to something she or her brothers had done. It was not the proper response to what she said, at least not to her. But she didn't let this strange disgust show on her face; she was trained to have a mask after all. "A month ago." That month had passed quickly, and she had healed quickly too, to her mother's delight.

"Why do you want to know all of this?" Little did she know that this was a commonplace conversation for one who had been noticeably injured, especially if the wound was fresh. She had never had a wound like that, and she had never asked the others about their own injuries, not even Burke. He had told them himself, without her prompting.

She asked him why he wanted to know all of these things, and Ovaltine reclined, settling on his haunches to answer. "The more I know about how our bodies deal with injury, the easier it is for me to treat those that are injured," he replied. Ovaltine was no deceiver, though he could lie in a pinch if his life depended upon it. Most of the time, however, there was no need for him to put on a façade. Life was easier without the complications that lies brought. Oval wondered, for a moment, if anybody had asked her about her handicap. Perhaps they had felt she would be offended.

"Did anybody tend to your wound, miss?" he asked. He wondered what their course of action had been. Had they given her some variety of plants to help soothe the pain? Had they merely cleaned the wound to hold off infection? Was it something about their methods that had caused the loss of her eye? There were more questions he had for her caretaker, and he did not know if they would be answered (now or later).

She had never thought of healing in that sense. Her tactic was to find out the problem and solve it; though she had never had field training before. It was an interesting idea. Potema only hummed in contemplation before the loner asked another question.

"Of course." She answered in a matter-of-fact tone. The young pup had never been to other packs, never seen how they ran themselves (though that would change soon). She had assumed that all packs had a healer; it was essential to survival after all. "My mother did, she's our healer."

Ovaltine nodded, soaking up the information—at least, as much as she was willing to give. "You're a lucky little lady, then," he said. Not everybody had a healer for a mother, and Ovaltine had noticed that his kind were fewer and further between as time went on. The art of healing was a complicated one, and not something to be taken lightly. It required years of training, lots of trial and error, and—in some cases—a strong stomach. Oval had seen some nasty injuries and sicknesses in his days.

"I should be on my way," Ovaltine announced, preparing himself to leave. "Wouldn’t want to provoke the locals." He was more than used to being chased away from pack borders for not expressing interest in joining. The child had inquired nothing of it, and so he had not brought it up. Perhaps the pack was not even welcoming new blood into its ranks. With that, the man gave the one-eyed girl a final nod, made a u-turn, and went on his way.

I'll archive this! Thanks for the thread!

Drawing in from her proud, almost arrogant nature from before she was injured, the girl's chest swelled with pride. "Princess. I'm a lucky little princess." She was indeed very grateful to have a talented and experienced healer as her mother, and looked forward to becoming one of her own in the future. When the loner excused himself and left, she did not say goodbye, though she felt a little bad that they had met so close to pack grounds. She could have learned something from him. The white princess wished to Mephala that they would meet again soon, and walked back into her dark kingdom.