I am on a curiosity voyage.

Hoping for a Vanderfell wolf so Winter can join! @Ira

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It'd been several months since he'd last seen his sister, so Winter figured it safe to assume that she'd chosen to go along her own path without him. His effort to find her bore no fruit and not a soul he'd asked had seen no one matching her description; it hurt, to have been so callously abandoned.

So on he carried, picking his way across unfamiliar terrain on his own. It wasn't ideal, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd worked through much of his fat reserves in the absence of a hunting partner and while he was in no way scrawny, Winter was significantly leaner than before as he found himself in lands beneath the clouded mountains.

He could smell the strong aroma of a claim, and tread carefully. Finding a group to settle with would be in his best interest and, being the social butterfly that he was, Winter was eager to reacquaint himself with his own species.

He just had to find them first.


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Or they could find him.

Winter wouldn't have to search long as the roan queen caught sight of another from her perch. She had thought to try her luck fishing once more, though instead of wading into the water she watched from a small rocky overhang, eyes focused on finding a pattern to the silver creature's swim. It was a distinct greyscale body that popped off the wooden browns of the trees that made her look.

A tall man from the looks of it, and one warier of the markers she had placed nearby. For a moment she squinted, curious if he was knowingly trying to hunt their food, though after some time he seemed to just step carefully almost as if he was searching for something. Deciding it would be better to point him away than let him roam about freely should he dare close in on their borders, the high queen rose from her spot and moved quietly through the woods.

As the roan woman approached from behind, she chuffed, head raised enough to show her dominance, but not enough to be hostile. “Traveler, you wander close. Is there something I can assist you with?”

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Something fluttered past his face, and Winter blinked in surprise. He paused to turn toward it, to follow with his earthen gaze, and found the pale, beating wings of a butterfly. It settled briefly on a long stalk of grass and, at the sight of vivid orange that tipped ivory, he hovered his muzzle over it to investigate.

It fluttered off again almost instantly, and the young ranger jarked his head to the side as it swept past a whisker. He made no move to pursue the little creature again, instead turning his attention ahead to continue along the path he'd chosen, when he noted the arrival of a stranger.

Oh, the joy he felt to look upon another wolf again! Winter beamed at the cool-furred female and wagged his tail with enthusiasm, crouching low in acknowledgement of her dominant posture. He let her come to him, as close as she wanted to, to test the scent he carried and study as she saw fit; he would drop to his belly if she willed it of him.

“Привет — Hello!” Winter announced cheerfully, excitedly in his father's tongue, before he smoothly translated: “hi! I'm Winter, I just... do you live here? I'm looking for a pack to join.”


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As Ira neared it soon became clear that it was not a man, but a boy. He was curious in nature, eyes following the wings of a butterfly before it fluttered off and her presence became known. The first word spoken sounded like garbled words, though she faintly recalled something familiar coming from the wolves of Elysium. Another language most likely, but at least he too spoke English. With good manners he was quick to drop to the ground, patient as she approached though not at all afraid that he might be too close to a claim.

And then it all made sense. He wanted to be found, and he wanted to join. The High Queen raised a brow as she studied him carefully before speaking, “I do. These woods are where I hunt, and the peaks are my home.” It would be better to get that out of the way should he not be fit for Vanderfell's lifestyle. “You wish to join, but do you have no qualms of what kind of pack it is you join?” Not every pack was the same. If he decided he was not fond of their mountains or rules then there was no point feeding him just for the boy to take off.

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She spoke of the spires where she made her home, and the woods around them where she hunted. Winter's earthen gaze drifted briefly around at the rugged tree trunks and verdant foliage, brimming with life. He fancied himself running through the wildflowers and splashing in the shallows of the stream he could hear close by, maybe finding all the best spots for chasing the birds and snapping at insects.

Yep, he figured this place would suit him just fine!

Truthfully, he hadn't considered that packs came in "types". Winter's enthusiasm dissipated a little as the roan wolfess regained his focus, and he canted his boxy muzzle in quiet contemplation. This was a trick question, surely. “Uhhhh,” his tail stilled, and he did not rise to his paws - knowing he would likely tower over his newest acquaintance. “I guess not? What... kind of pack is yours?”


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With realization his enthusiasm would die down, the question at hand of what pack might be best for him now at his lips. At least now he was asking the questions he needed, “Vanderfell Woods, we have all gathered to better ourselves and enjoy a bountiful life of rewards for our hard work. In some ways, we may be considered a family pack, though our blood does not match.” Something that did not need to be said, but truthfully it was important to her.

“That being said, everyone must have at least one skill to bring, or at the very least be willing to learn. What skills might you possess?” The roan woman tilted her head ever so slightly as she leaned down to inspect his fur. He seemed tall, though muscle would need some work if he was to take up any form of fighting. The lack of scars told her that he may have never even been in a fight...but perhaps those long legs were better off for scouting.

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Vanderfell Woods. It sounded strong, and he liked the way it sounded as he rolled the words from his tongue - testing them for himself in the faintly Russian accent he bore. He smiled again, warm in the chocolate oh his bright eyes, and he welcomed her to sniff at his pelt with a submissive sweep of his tufted ears.

“My матушка — mother would be mortified if I didn't boast about how committed she was in training my siblings and I to be the best hunters,” a beat of awkward laughter then, his discomfort obvious; he was not vain creature, and struggled to praise himself. If he were to be totally honest with this potential new comrade, he would need to tell her how remarkably lazy he could be. Winter was a joker, a fool, but not dumb enough to spill his greatest flaws. “I haven't joined a pack since leaving my family, so... I'm sorry, I guess I'm not too great at selling myself. But I am willing to learn?”


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Her ear flicked at his attempt to say the name, the syllables heavy with his accent, but close enough. She was almost positive now that he spoke the same language as Valeska and her people. “Hunters are always valuable, even if every wolf should be able to hunt. An open mind is good. We will test those skills of yours later.” Drawing her head back, she stood up straight with a slight tilt of her head.

“Where is your family? Are they here?” The last thing she needed was an angry mother on her tail, though he looked old enough to make his own decisions about life. Chances were they had been separated when they arrived here like everyone else, though if his family was also looking for a pack she wouldn't be opposed to members with a tie to stay. “Why caused you to leave your birth pack?”

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Every wolf should know how to hunt, but not every wolf could be as successful in each attempt. Dawn had insisted on extensive training fir her brood, had pushed them beyond their limits. While Winter was not particularly enthusiastic about chasing and killing his own prey, he was a patient and careful stalker. Oh, if only farting and annoying others were coveted skills - he'd be an expert!

“No, they are not,” he responded, a touch of sorrow to his tone; Juniper should've been there. “My sister and I left to see more of the world, but we were separated a few months ago. I don't...” his expression shifted, and a thoughtful frown tugged each corner of his maw downward, “I don't think she wants to be found.”

Juni had always been far more independent than Winter could ever hope to be, and he liked to think that she was happier without him weighing her down. Had it not been for his bold sibling, he'd probably still be living a quiet, dull existence beneath their parents' rule. He was young, not willing to admit defeat by returning to his family home, so forging his own path forward was the only way.


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Ira gave a short hum, her eyes glancing to the mountain peaks. Perhaps it was for the best that they had split then, she had done the same after all but it didn't mean she loved her sister any less. “A wolf can grow a lot on their own, or in the company of strangers. She may have sought development she could not attain with her family. I think you will find the same.” The roan queen turned, her tail flicking for the boy to follow.

They had quite the climb if she was to show him around the territory before nightfall. “Come, find your home. I will tell you of our laws and the land.” Should he have no complaints then they would travel side by side where the mountain allowed it while Ira shared common knowledge of the pack.

-exit here- ?

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If Juniper had wanted to be alone, it would've been better for her to have told him. The young ranger glanced away, down at his long legs stretched out before him, and stifled a sigh of disappointment. Что есть, то есть — It is what it is, he reminded himself, though it was not enough for him to forget the ache of being left behind.

The blue-furred wolfess shifted then, moved to turn away, and his attention snapped back to her. His ears sprung forward and he gathered to his paws at last. She beckoned him to follow with words and Winter, with a surge of excited energy, bounded eagerly forward to catch up.

“What should I call you?” Winter asked, with a big stupid grin on his face; that had worked out easier than he'd thought it would.


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He seemed down with her words, but he was still young. Losing family could be hard as not all family was worth keeping. The ones you label yourself mean more than a last name ever could. If it was in the stars, he would see her again. Motioning for the boy to follow seemed to bring him back, a happy step in his paws as he bounded over to follow.

Her ear flicked back as he asked for her name, a subtle smile on her lips. Now he was learning to ask the right questions. She had purposely held off on introducing herself, though he guessed she may have been the alpha before that was revealed as well. “You may call me Ira. As you may have gathered, I am the alpha here, though my real title is High Queen.”

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Wanna wrap up in your next post? :)

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Ira carried herself in the way that an Alpha ought to: with confidence and an air of quiet pride, but void of arrogance. He liked her immediately and it showed in the beat of his tail, his willingness to follow almost blindly.

“Ah, my liege,” the jokester beamed at her with her confirmation of title, dark eyes alight with joy, “it is a pleasure to serve you.”

He would hunt for her, Winter decided, when the High Queen released him from his tour of the territory. When that time came, the young hunter went with a spring in his stride, down into the lowlands in search of a meal fit for a Queen.


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“Ma'am is suitable as well.” He may have been joking, but Ira still found the use of titles important. She carried on without missing a beat as Winter followed along. For only ever living under one pack's rule he listened well, and even with his joking undertones, had a good level of respect. In some ways, the boy reminded her of Hieronymous. Surely the painted man would get a kick out of whatever adventure he could rope him into. As she finished her tour he would excuse himself to which she too would depart to set off for the borders.

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