Know Your Surroundings

@Rakharo For the "Know Your Surroundings" Quest...scouting out BDP. BDP wolves welcome!

There were other groups of wolves around here, called "packs". It was a strange word, light on his tongue, but he needed to learn this land's tongue if he was ever going to command the slaves they would take from here. He would have to speak to that one slave, Tomahawk, more often, but only after her heat was over. That scent was too distracting, both to him and her.

These packs were not like the khalas of the Dotharan: they did not move from their land, instead staying in one place and jealously guarding that place from outsiders. Zoratto found that idiotic. Herds move after all, even the elk and deer herds. Why stay in one place when it would be much easier to follow the meat and have a constant supply? He wondered if that was why the Rhaesh Thash wolves he met looked so scrawny compared to the Dotharan warriors - they did not get the proper nourishment they needed from a large kill, and had to fed themselves on small prey. Pathetic.

But, regardless of their strength and their habits, they were still an important landmark. Those packs' territories would be places they could raid, or had to avoid. They could, eventually, start to trade with them, too, if they had wives and slaves to spare. Zoratto parted from the khalas to find one of these packs, and size them up.

He headed north; he already knew there were two packs south of the lake, he just had not scouted them personally yet, to the mountains, where the trails of wolf smell were frequent and strong. He followed one of the rivers that fed the lake, observing the scenery as he went. A forest, bright, but unwelcoming to a Dotharan warrior, a gorge, which looked utterly terrifying, and a spot on the west side of the river that seemed to radiant heat and steam. It looked intriguing, but Zoratto was on a mission. He reluctantly kept heading north, following the trails and the river until he found one of them. A border, a pack's border. He sniffed alongside the invisible barrier. Unlike the other border to the north, the scents were strong, fresh. A wolf could be nearby for all he knew. 

She wasn't exploring - she had been this way countless times. Outriding? Yet she had no pack to report to. Wandering was all that fit her now, but the thought of being a vagabond didn't rest well with the Ostrega. But until she made up her mind and settled, she would be a vagabond and chaser of prey, wandering from place to place until the land sustained her no more. She had fair choices before her: the Sunspire and the Plateau, to name two, and perhaps that was why she'd come this way. Her eyes had met this land while she roamed the mountains, and her thoughts had shifted to Ciervo. He had mentioned a pack living on a Plateau, and had shown a keenness toward them so unusual for him. She had wondered for some time what had impressed him about these wolves, and it seemed that wonder had finally surfaced to action when she'd seen the land he spoke of. 

And the land was certainly impressive, she would give him that, both from the bird's eye view and from the solid ground she scouted now. Yet Andalusia kept herself a safe distance from the land, out of courtesy to its inhabitants as much as for her own safety. Only when she deemed herself ready to call would she draw nearer, but a movement of silver alerted her another intended to do the opposite. She paused in her analysis, turning her eyes to the stranger, nostrils flared to catch his scent. A member, perhaps? But from the way he scouted, she knew he did not belong to this place. His brazen approach seemed one of purpose, but he stopped before crossing the river, and Andalusia narrowed her eyes against him.

"Well you're a daring one," she breathed to herself. The Ostrega retained her distance, but lifted her head and let her voice carry to her company. "It isn't wise to walk so near a land that isn't yours."

Zoratto was ready to step forward but paused in his tracks as a feminine voice drifted into his ears. He turned his head towards her, sizing up the woman. Was she of the pack? He walked closer, taking in her scent. No. Her scent did not match the pack's at all. He did not understand what she said, and as such paid no heed of her words. He had more important, Dotharan-y type stuff to be concerned about. Like bringing in a slave, or a wife, for the pack. They needed new blood.

"Pack name?" He said, his voice a thunderous growl and heavily accented with the harsh tones of the Dotharan. He wanted some information before he decided to claim her.

Andalusia held her ground while the young man surveyed her, and when he stepped closer, she did not budge. She took his time of silence to size him up herself, and searched the air again for his scent. But the slight breeze favoured him and she was left with little more to rely on than what she could behold with her eyes. Something about the man disturbed her, and Andalusia straightened to her full height, ruffling her fur for the illusion of the broadness she lacked.

His voice was of an accent she had never before encountered, and labeled him a foreigner of these parts, even more of one than she. His words themselves convinced her he did not speak their dialect fluently, and she adjusted her own words to reflect the development. "I do not know," she said slower than before, "Howl, and the Alpha will tell you."

hihi, hope it's cool if i snag this. :)

He struck out for the borders, soaking up the warmth of a hot sun with ease. Though he had been a considerable outlier in the recent weeks, Mordecai still tried to do his part in keeping the pack safe. There had been much on his mind in that time, the sorting and shuffling of things, the compartmentalizing of this and that; frankly he hadn't really come out there to patrol the borders. He had come out there to clear his head. And with Harlyn tied up with headaches, he wasn't about to burden her with idle talk of what could have been or what would be.

By those days, he knew the borders of the area well. He didn't go reaching for the very fringes of them this time, but instead stayed tucked in close to where those scents would grow weak. The places where he figured he would find unfamiliar faces, good or bad. It would give his mind something else to chew at, perhaps put a new light on something he hadn't been looking at. Mordecai didn't really know. So when he heard the intonation of voices over the ambient din of insects and wildlife, he drew himself towards it thoughtlessly. Two figures emerged from the landscape, one with a bit more posturing going on than the other. Male and female, if body shape was anything to go on.

It wasn't until he drew closer that recognition came to him like a swift kick, and his concern for their loitering turned to interest. "Andalusia?" he called out towards her turned figure. He was certain it was her, but her present company was nothing more than a mystery.

Zoratto did not get the name he wanted from her; it was possible that this wolf did not know at all who this pack was, but that theory quickly dissipated when a wolf emerged from the other side of the borders. He walked towards them, throwing his attention towards the female, questioning her with a familiarity that suggested they had met before. Zoratto snorted. There went his chance to bring back a slave. If she knew him, then this older male could fight for her. Perhaps they would both fight him, if the women here were as fierce as Dotharan women.

Zoratto's pale eyes turned towards the new arrival, looking at him questioningly. "Pack name?" He repeated to the wolf, knowing he would get an answer of some kind.

She waited for the foreigner to speak again, but the voice which met her came from behind. Deep and masculine, like things could go worse, and Andalusia turned to catch the newcomer in her peripheral. Who she saw made her blink in surprise. "Mordecai?" Thank goodness, was all she thought, and she felt an ease creep over her at her uncle's arrival. She still refused to let her fur lie flat - while tall herself, she was the slightest among them, and any ounce of feigned bulk she could give herself, she would. "I didn't know you lived here." Harlyn had mentioned living in a pack to the North, but Andalusia had not matched her with the Plateau. That Ciervo had been impressed by the Plateau didn't surprise her now - if every wolf here were like Mordecai and Harlyn, she could easily see what had drawn him in.

The foreigner growled the same words he had spoken to her and grounded her assumption he didn't hold their language as his native tongue. Andalusia turned most of her attention to the foreigner; though she'd only met Mordecai once, it was easier to keep most of her back turned to him. "He asked me the same, but I couldn't give him an answer," she said with a glance to Mordecai. Andalusia kept from mentioning how close he'd drawn to the border. That information could be given at a different time if the foreigner turned out to be a threat, but for now she kept silent. A fool's mistake, and one she trusted he would not make again.

She responded to him calling her name and he found himself thankful that it was her and not someone else. It had been a while since their paths had crossed, but at least the memory of Andalusia was still fresh in his mind. As it should have been, he supposed; keeping family close was not something he was the best at, but the bond that was there was undeniable. And as it were, he brought himself to attention to the situation that was unfolding between them. The other wolf spoke in between all of this, his accent exotic enough that Mordecai also came to the conclusion that he was a foreigner as well.

As he slowed to a stop, his stance gradually drew to his full height and his eyes met the earthen countenance of the pale-eyed male. He was direct and to the point, which Mordecai could appreciate. But at the same time, his appreciation for such directness was idle. Natural law dictated what he wanted from this stranger, but he verbalized more than that. "Who are you?" He was brave enough to come sweeping in close to the borders of the Plateau, and by the smell of him he was of many from somewhere else.

The wolf did not answer his question, instead asking one himself. Zoratto frowned, his pale eyes narrowing in annoyance. Why couldn't these wolves simply get to the point, instead of dancing around? He could tell him his name later. "Zoratto." He snapped out his name, his voice deep and booming with his annoyance. "What pack name?" He asked again, hoping that the wolf was satisfied enough to answer his own question now.

Andalusia let her pale gaze rest on Mordecai a beat before she dipped her head and allowed the situation to fall into his paws. This land was his, after all, and while his niece, she had no more rights here than the foreigner before her. She diverted her attention to Zoratto then, whose voice and demeanour spoke of agitation, and watched the interaction with guarded interest. She didn't know how much she would glean from the exchange, but she was keen to gather what information she could to sate her own unspoken questions.

His eyes wavered over the foreigner once more as he spoke. The unbridled annoyance in his tone was enough to stir a faint rise out of Mordecai, though it was brief. That rise was bottled down and tucked away with so many other things he kept from boiling to the surface. It didn't matter to him then what it was that the other had come seeking, or that the other spoke in accents that suggested a different tongue. "Leave," he offered, "tell your leader to send someone with manners." That rise in him didn't have to hit the surface of his expression; it echoed in his tone. The unease he had picked up on in Andalusia made sense to him now, and he found that he cared little of rough intrusion for information.

Half of the words the pack wolf said swept over him without understanding, though the boy got the general jist of the wolf's meaning. Leave. Go away. His brow furrowed, unafraid of a singular wolf, but wary of the second female nearby. She did not seem loyal to the pack, but to the wolf, maybe, from the familiarity they shared before. Zoratto leaned towards the safe side for once; he was on unknown territory, alone, with two wolves ready to strike.

The boy huffed with annoyance, gave one last look to the female and the male, and turned away, trotting down back to the Plains. The khalas would find an answer soon enough.

The roughness in Mordecai's rebuke came as little surprise to Andalusia. She'd been around enough to know how far respect could bring you, especially in land where no one knows your name by you. The interaction might have been easier if the boy's first language had been their native tongue, but he had shown disregard from the start, brushing up along the line that told every wolf - even her - to stand back. All things considered, Andalusia doubted a common tongue would have changed anything.

For a tense moment, the boy eyed her, and Andalusia met his gaze. But the boy thought wiser than to attack, and made a right decision in fleeing the area to the plains. The Ostrega narrowed gaze after him until she was certain he was too far to round an attack, then turned back to Mordecai. "I saw him sniffing around your pack line," She explained, approaching no closer. The man was her uncle, but she did not belong to his pack. There were things they shared, but a home was not one of them, and unlike the boy who had less reason to draw near, Andalusia would respect that. "He looked more than ready to take a step across before I called out."

Though the foreigner hardly liked Mordecai's decision, it would have seemed that the message was well received. His eyes lingered on the receding form of the other for some time, even well past the point where his body could be spotted through the thick growth beyond his field of view. And as Andalusia spoke, his attention drew itself to her. His gaze wandered over her for a moment as though he expected now to find something out of place. But nothing was, and she was fine, and the distant between them remained.

"Probably would have too," he rejoined, glancing one last time in the direction the wolf had gone. "It would not have ended well for him in that case, but I don't imagine he'll be thanking any of us. You were right to stop him." He offered her a thankful smile, though a part of him would have not had a problem with chasing him away personally. They would always do what it took to defend their territories without question.

"Are you all right?" He had missed part of the exchange between them, but the fact that she had been unnerved by the stranger had not been missed on his part.

Though her body remained tense, Andalusia's quirked a smile at Mordecai's thanks. To do anything but stop the tresspasser would have made her an accomplice, and that was something the Ostrega wouldn't have. Her choice to remain in the Wilds meant she couldn't take her eyes off her reputation. Integrity was a key trait to possess as an Outrider, for no one would trust her if she showed no concern beyond herself.

"I'm fine, he never got close enough to touch me." Of course she'd known the risk of her approach, but she hadn't anticipated the feral look in Zoratto's pale eyes. There was something about the boy that made her fur stand on end, even still. At least their encounter had finished in retreat. Bloodshed was something she couldn't risk. She only had herself to depend on, for healing, food, and protection. In this instance she'd had Mordecai, but she couldn't count on him to materialize at every turn. He had his own wolves to care for, and she didn't count herself a part of them. Andalusia dipped her head in thanks. "I'm lucky you showed up when you did." She imagined he had come to protect his own, but at the same time he had aided her. She lifted her gaze to meet where he stood, her grin still held. "So we're even."

Her grin came easy and he couldn't help but mirror it for a brief flash. She was cheeky, but then again a fair amount of them were. Some of them were certainly more of the serious type, but it was safe to say that those of their heritage that wandered almost picked it up as they went along. Maybe it was a survival mechanism, or maybe it was just how they looked at life. Certainly they already flew by the seat of their pants, so to speak.

"Guess it seems that there's a fair share of unsavory types still lingering around," he said, mulling it over. Sure, there were the wolves of Blackfeather Woods that had a reputation that preceded them, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of them in a while. And that fellow certainly didn't come from there, of that he was certain. Wherever he came from, Mordecai didn't know, but also didn't feel overly compelled to investigate. His curiosities had gotten him into trouble enough for the season.

Still, at least he had the repitoire here that he lacked with some of his other relatives. Namely Charon and his brother, the latter of which Mordecai had never met. And knowing that her own worry had been something stirred up by their foreign guest compelled him to impart one more thing to her: "It might do you good to stick around these parts. I don't know where that fellow came from, but I can't say that either of us would want to find out. His friends probably aren't much better."

Sorry for the almost month long delay :x Feel free to wrap this up/archive!

Andalusia had come across many personalities in her travels, and she had learned through experience not every wolf could be trusted like the next. Though she liked to give everyone the benefit of a doubt, it remained a simple fact that some were ticking time-bombs, and you could only do your best to avoid them. She knew how to handle herself in risky situations, yet all the experience in the world could not make up for the simple fact that her current circumstance was not in her favour. Unlike the travel of her youth, she was alone, and that simple title came with the potential for peril at every turn.

Her predicament did not escape her, and when Mordecai told her to stick close, she thought wiser than to refuse him. In other times she would have brushed off his worry with an idle flick of her tail. But here, Mordecai was one of her only allies. His support was invaluable. If she refused him, she may as well start digging her own grave.

"Between you and me, I think I'm fine never finding out." While his scent had been strange, Zoratto had held the mark of many. If his superiors had sent him as a representative, she was keen to keep away. "I'll keep an eye out for any more trouble. Play warden from the outside." Her unspoken word she'd stay close to the Plateau, though she resolved not to lean on their aid. Her loyalty remained apart from them, and she would not seek their protection while she remained independent from their ranks.

The late afternoon sun cast a hazy glow over the flatlands, a reminder that evening was quick on its way. Now that the intensity of the moment had worn off, weariness pulled at Andalusia's body. Residue of constant travel. Though she'd come here to observe the Plateau, today would not be the day she joined their number. A part of her still rested with the Sunspire, and one sniff of the border told her Ciervo hadn't found a home in this place. "I'd best be off, but I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough." She turned to leave, and paused only at a stir within. Andalusia held herself in a beat of hesitation before she cast a glance over her shoulder. Her words stung with her own concern. "You be careful too, alright?" The danger was as real for him as it was for her. She'd only just met her uncle, and she didn't plan on letting him die anytime soon.

fading this out because i am an epic fail lol

He smiled thinly at her thought of keeping an eye out for trouble. For as much as he was inclined to sway her to join them, Mordecai did not feel it was rightfully his place to go about bringing in the strays. Regardless of relation. Still, he supposed if she did stay in close to things, in time she was liable to find her way inside with the rest of them. And that brought a sense of contentment to him, if only for the fact that he was seemingly able to foster at least one positive relationship with what scattered relatives he was discovering to have in the region.

"I try to," he went on to say as her words trailed off, and it was the truth. Mordecai did not openly go searching for trouble, though at times it may have been reckoned that it came to find him. And so he saw her off, following her out beyond the borders of the plateau as their conversation dwindled.