There ain't no place for the wicked...

Vulture had found herself in these strange lands for nearly a month now. Days had passed sluggishly, and her healing mind had slowly started to come back to her. She had quickly discovered that seeing new plants she had once studied extensively seemed to "unlock" their use to her. That was a main draw for her to leave the easy living she had experienced while staying in the place she later learned was called Ullacraig Run. Well, that and her newfound acquaintance had decided he no longer wished to lurk around the edges of Vanderfell territory. Calling Clay an acquaintance was one of the many ways she poorly still tried keeping her distance from the male. As much as she loathed to admit it, his determination and bullheadedness reminded her of her own in a comforting manor. It saddened her to think she could have more connection with this wolf whom she had only loosely known for a month than any of her own family.

Her large paws traversed the mountainside with a practiced cadence. The last few weeks her, Clay, and the newcomer Misericordia had traveled a great distance from the site she had awoken at. Through treacherous lands and territories, they formed a bond that could only be made through blood. Vulture had gained a few new scars, and several new stories to one day scare pups with. This latest swath of land the pack had found had little to no wolf presence. Tilting her nose towards the sky she drew in a deep breath. Game smelled fairly plentiful here. Even with the tinge of bear stink, she figured this would be as good a place as any to settle for a rest. They were all running on little sleep, as the last few days had been through particularly hostile lands. She threw her head to the side, making eye contact with Clay and his companion. “This place smells alright to stay a while. I may be able to find some herbs to help build our stamina back up, but I will need some time,” Vulture spoke formally, her words punctuated by drawing another deep breath. Yes this place would definitely do. A cacophony of herbal scents flitted past her nares causing her pupils to dilate. In truth, she suspected this place was what heaven would smell like. Minus the bears. “Yes this place is just as lovely as you made it sound Clay. Perhaps a bit too lovely,” Vulture's words were skeptical. By nature she was a pessimist, and after all the shit they had gone through to get here she couldn't help waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this place wouldn't be so easy, right?  

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He walked, walked, walked. He walked so much that he had forgotten that he was even walking, and it had become instinct, a force of habit he came lost in. His paws no longer ached, his joints no longer burned with the weight of their endless travels from Ullarcraig. Clay had finally come to the bitter decision; he was worlds apart from his blood family, and he had forged new bonds before his own eyes, before he'd even realized. 

Yet... they were very, very questionable bonds. Bonds that often had him wanting to rip his own fur out. But these lands... they held promise. There was life in the soil and something about the fog that lingered above the cold cliffs spoke to him. They spoke of home. Clay was a temperamental little man, but he was no fool. 

Ahead of Vulture he walked, leading her slowly down into the green, misty lands. Rolling hills and vast trails led windingly through sharp, miniature mountains. And most prominently, a large and sprawling lake. He saw the way her eyes lit up with something unspoken and he knew then he'd made the right choice. 

“You w-worry too much.” His voice was muffled behind the antler he towed between his teeth, eyes glazing calmly as he looked towards the woman. Miseri was nowhere to be seen; he had veered off a ways back, but no doubt, the man was lurking somewhere. “T-this will be home.”

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She couldn't contain the snarky laugh that rushed from her lungs. “I seem to recall my wariness saving your hide. If not for me, you'd likely be up to your neck in quicksand,” Vulture stated cockily, her chest puffed in a show of grandeur. It was a bit hyperbolic, but it was still hard for her to let go of her skepticism. To let go of her control over her life. Even if she would be giving that control over to a wolf who had in return saved her own hide. Clay had earned her trust, and for that she would forever be indebted to him. Even if she at times wished to throttle the male. She often had to separate from the pair of males just to allow herself a small respite.

Her own hangups had trouble keeping her from admiring this place. It was truly a sight to behold, what with the clear lake below them framed by the craggy peaks. “If you think this place should be home, then I will follow,” Vulture said in a rare show of respect. She dared to make eye contact to keep the moment from becoming too touching. Clearing her throat, she glanced around the paths before them. “Should we follow the paths to see where they lead? Maybe one of the branches leads to a den,” She inquired trying to make out the ends of the paths in the distance. Some ended abruptly leading to seemingly nothing. Others ran right off the edge of the plateau with no warning, and still some reached out further than her eye could see. Surely one would point them in the right direction. She trusted Clay would pick the right path.    

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Clay listened attentively to Vulture as she spoke, offering her a brief roll of his eyes at her jestful poke at him. She was not wrong. He couldn't help but think. Think, think, think; it was often all he found himself doing anymore. Consumed by his thoughts and plagued by what if's and how come's.

He pulled his head back and situated the antler so that it could rest between his shoulders and back, the crook of the set coming to saddle tightly against him. When he looked back to Vulture, he saw the sudden intensity in her face and he heard it in her words. He swallowed stiffly, jaws parting in a silent revelation. Only now did it dawn on him that she looked to him as more than a companion, but... a leader? His chin lifted upwards, and he almost spoke in rebuttal. But nothing came out. His brows instantly furrowed darkly above his emerald eyes which seemed to glower with a sudden... ambition.

But he didn't speak, only exchanged a silent, knowing look with the healer. There were no words that he felt could be spoken. At the invitation to scout for den sites, the wolf lifted his head and gave her a brisk nod, setting off at an ample pace down one of many winding, fresh trails.

“Shall we?” He murmured distantly, giving a toss of his large head.

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Clay still seemed lost in his own head more often than not these days. Now though, instead of the hollow harrowing look he had when Vulture had first met him she could see something more. It was especially apparent since arriving to these lands he had said were so wonderous. His eyes truly held life here. They reminded her of her sister's if she looked too long. Thankfully, that was the only similarity they had or else Vulture would not be able to stay with the male. His propensity towards silence was the main reason she found his company so enjoyable. It was more comfortable that way. 

As Clay started to walk away towards one of the paths, she eyed the set of antlers he had touted along with him. Several times during their journey she had wondered why he insisted on carrying the large objects, but instead of just asking the male she chose to keep it a mystery. With a mystery to solve, she had something to focus on during their travels rather than the droll nothingness that accompanied travel. Even now, she found she couldn't bring herself to ask. It was too fun to think of all the possibilities. Her main theory was that it tied in with his past in some way. Perhaps he hoards because he lacked in his developmental years. Much of his life was a mystery to her though, so these were all speculations at best.

His words shook her from thoughts. “I think we shall,” Vulture replied before trotting leisurely to catch up with the gray wolf ahead of her. The trail they were on wrapped around a bend, its destination obscured by a large outcrop of dark stones. Her curiosity urged her forward. She had pulled ahead of Clay slightly, her need to know everything urging her forward. Just as she rounded the sharp corner, a mountain goat bleated to her right before bounding away up the sharp cliff faces. Vulture jumped up, arching her back in an almost cat-like way from the jump scare she had just received. A string of curses left the female, all thrown viciously to the ungulate now tens of meters away. “The first thing I eat in these lands had best be one of those bastards,” Vulture spat. Her commotion, and anger, had distracted her from what had truly been hidden behind the bend.        

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