Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
The sun was rising as Beren passed out of the mountains and down into the treeline, heralded by a smell of snow and an icy wind. The world, it seemed, was urging him on to travel, as if it didn't work right unless he was in his place. Wandering. The male raised his muzzle to the rise of the sun, studying the orange snow-clouds on the horizon. By noon, he thought to himself, it would be as if he was at home again. He would welcome it; despite himself, Beren was homesick more and more often as the year grew older. In the mountains of the north, among the high cliffs and the valleys, where the ravens were honored no less than his own kind - in the North, the snow never melted, and the wind always smelled of the winter. One could travel for weeks, even in summer, and the trees would be green and the ground white and cold. He'd grown up amongst a forest much like this, in sight of mountains and far away from both heat and other wolves. If Beren were to ever be inclined to live somewhere, it would be here. It would be home, if he could, but the wolf wasn't a fool - the gods had let him find this strange island, but there was no reason for them to let him back to Russia. Here, though, had everything a wolf needed to live, and was just large enough for him to explore it thoroughly before he died..which wouldn't be too long now, if the world had its way. And then, perhaps, to Russia, and the vast deserts of the west, and even farther, to another land of which Beren had heard - a land where the streets were gold, and the leaves never fell. For it was said (and Beren had never quite believed it himself, nice as it was) that the soul was immortal, and that after his death, no ocean or mountain or even the stars themselves could hold one back from their travels.
But that was then, and it was now, and Beren had a forest before him, unexplored. The aging wolf scrambled to his feet - he'd been lying down, taking a rest in the early dawn - and passed beneath the trees. The woods were silent as the birds and small creatures discovered his presence, save for a slight noise in the leaves overhead from the wind. A little snow had landed on the ground below, but not enough to cover scents, and it was then that Beren discovered the track of another wolf. He'd been followed. No, impossible. The wolf growled slightly to himself, sharply irritated. There was no way anyone could have followed him, through the vast mountains and down here to the trees. He'd been very careful, these past few days, to watch his back - he had, after all, crossed a territory some few days before, and it was better to be cautious than sorry. It would be a strange and dedicated pursuer to track him all this distance. Perhaps it was another loner passing along his trail by chance. Nevertheless, best to avoid the situation entirely. Beren turned, heading farther west into the trees, off the path he'd originally planned to follow. He crossed over his path a few times and struck off into the depths of the trees.
It was not so long before he discovered a lake or similar, and stopped. There was the wolf, or another wolf, who he'd somehow managed to find despite himself. They likely could not see him yet, hidden in the brush as he still was, but it wouldn't be long. If he ran now he might remain undetected. But then.. Beren shook his head, annoyed by his own thoughts. Perhaps the gods that brought him here meant for him to find this stranger, and doubtless had orchestrated his odd path for the purpose of making him an ally, or perhaps an enemy - who knew? He froze for a moment, undecided, and forced himself to step out of the trees into plain sight. His voice was hoarse from disuse, and he had to concentrate momentarily to speak in the common tounge, rather than in his native speech. "A blessing upon you, stranger, fair skies, following wind, and may ravens to lead you to your prey." Obsequiously polite for a chance passing, but if this was a pack wolf, Beren could afford to be friendly. He paused, ready to take off again if required, and waited for some kind of response from the stranger..
The black arctic wolf blinked the sleep from his eyes and gave a huge yawn. He must have fallen asleep on the soft sand last evening and slept all the way through the night. It was a little chilly this morning, but he was used to that having spent so long living by the lake. Being an arctic also helped, he supposed.
Astra was nestled up against him, her white feathers contrasting with his fluffy black fur. Her hatchlings had grown up and left the nest, so she had come to live with him and Curse. The bird and the bear had had a rough start, but had eventually accustomed to each other’s company and could even be considered friends now.
Curse was probably out fishing; that was what he spent a lot of his time doing now that he had awakened from hibernation. Lynker had tried to go into hibernation too, but his body simply would not allow it. He had been forced to hunt for himself – something he very rarely did. Astra had been a good helper, often telling him where he could find the herds and even sharing a few rodents she’d caught when he failed. Food… The thought made his tummy rumble. He would have to go out hunting again soon.
But Lynker did not want to wake the bird from her peaceful slumber, so he was stuck here for the moment. He contented himself by observing his surroundings. The view never ceased to amaze him. Barely a ripple disturbed the mirror-like surface of the lake, which reflected the clear morning sky up above. A forest of tall green trees bordered the water, and the mountains beyond shone white with snow. It was so serene in the quietness of the morning, and that was why he loved it here. This was his home and he would never give it up to anyone.
The bird’s head suddenly shot up to peer over his shoulder, awakened by some noise only a bird of prey would be able to hear. Her small body froze and she spoke in a hushed frightened voice. “Lynker… Lynker, there’s someone behind you”
Startled, the wolf scrambled to his paws and in the process showered the gyrfalcon with sand. She gave a harsrh squawk of protest and fluttered up into the branches of a nearby tree where she perched, glaring down at him. Lynker didn't pay her much notice; she wasn’t really angry at him and he had more important things to deal with.
He narrowed hazel eyes at the other wolf as he tried to determine whether it was aggressive. His fur had fluffed up to make him look much bigger than he really was (as the runt of his litter, that was still small), and his paws were planted in a ready stance. After a moment, he saw that the wolf was not about to attack, so he allowed himself to relax his posture slightly. What had gotten into him lately? Normally he wasn’t this defensive. It must have been that idiotic Nur-Rama, and the pack of wolves she’d brought with her. That had really scared him – the idea that he would be pushed out of his home by a group of random strangers.
“Good day to you too, sir” He returned the wolf’s greeting with a polite nod. Lynker’s accent was heavy, like the stranger’s, but his was that of a bear. He had spent most of his life growing up with Curse and his family, so it really wasn’t much of a surprise that he had aquired some bear-like traits. "What brings you to these parts? I hope you do know that Nyspoli's Pool is my territory"
Beren barely managed to keep himself from raising an eyebrow. This entire lake belonged to an undersized black wolf and a bird? Not only was this generally irregular..one wolf hardly needed all this space to provide enough food for himself..but Beren rather doubted that this somewhat rude stranger had any ability to defend the entire place by himself. However, it was not Beren's job to start fights with random young males, had they ever so many white birds living with them. No doubt there were plenty of other wolves with families who would break this odd person out of his happy land. Beren had as little need of a giant lake to himself as this other wolf did. "Hm, my apologies, I seem to have missed your territory-markers," he said instead, not impolitely. "I wish you the greatest luck with your..endevour, it must be difficult to defend such a large space on one's own." He shifted his paws, ensuring that no part of his stance could be considered offensive. One would assume that anyone who owned an entire territory to himself was probably crazy, and the last thing Beren needed was for someone to take an interest in attacking him. Surely he would win a fight, even if he had to kill the bird too, but he'd be sore for weeks afterwards. He was never built for fighting. A calm smile flickered across his lips, amused as he was by the younger wolf's cheek. Back in the old days, this would never have happened; this was indeed a strange land. "My name is Beren. I am simply passing through, there is no need to worry." The younger wolf undoubtedly was one to assume that everyone who passed through was leading an invasion force. Beren could hardly blame him, given the size of 'his' territory and the fact that he seemed to be an undersize loner with only a largeish hawk for company. "I am a Gypsy, and mean no harm to anyone." And that, at least, was completely true. Beren had no enemies in this world, and didn't plan to acquire any.
