Thought that I'd feel better

She had let the godless woman within the home of Elkshire, an insurance she would have a meal — and the hope for loyalty. Yet the forest was voided of her presence, and the scent trail leading all the way out of the forest, but her scent seem to have disappeared from a before rainfall.. She wondered if the other went back to the Winterheart forest, for she did not return. It displeased, Celnes, to offer such luxuries of comfort and not even a goodbye.

But in the end, the Queen would cut her losses.

When that trail ended up cold, she found a different one on a different day. It seemed like she could smell the boars roaming away from the elk forest. Did one perhaps upset the herd or wander out? She could see vaguely through the muddy snow of noticeable prints, meaning the one that left was also a rather heft fellow. She wouldn't be able to hunt it alone, and yet curiosity came the better of her on where exactly it was going. 

She prowled through the tall grass, keeping low to the ground while a watchful eye toward it's sight. Her nose twitching toward it's scent as she gradually followed it's trail, leading all the way to the edge of the range..

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It was a good day to relax, like any day. String between two branches was a hammock made of leather of some sort, possibly a cured stomach or other animal product.

Comfortably, swinging in the breeze, Danni the little racoon stared at the clouds, dreaming of his own brilliance, while playing with a piece of straw in his mouth.

It was good to be lazy, the idea of planting stuff, and making fish traps, gave the sweet sweet luxury of free time.

It was nice up in the tree, though he could hear something rustle in the grass below.
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By coincidence, did she look up at one of the scattering trees through the plain. The sun shinning down and it provided a moments of shade, though a light curiously casting through. Yet, something caught her eye, that she wasn't sure what to make of it. Celnes knew by heart that was in-fact a raccoon.

But it was on something, it looked like a hide of some animal and yet strangely enough attached to the branches. She didn't know what to call it besides it looking like a hanging branch. She kept tilting her head, trying to figure out what exactly she was seeing. Straight confusion was upon her face.

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Peeking over the side of his hammock, the racoon's beady eyes caught site of the wolf down below.  Slumping over the side,  "Well, hey there." he said with a hand gesture, the piece of grass between his fingers. 

He was safe where he was, so he could just relax.  Wolves usually couldn't climb to well.  Besides, he could relax and be entertained at the same time
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"You speak my tongue?" Even if she could climb, Celnes didn't have an interest to hunt a raccoon. She was far more interested in the fauna that could talk though, and felt in some way.. They were holy — untouchable beings, something like the High Elk guided to her in some way, as it seemed the temperate had a knack for finding creatures who spoke of the same language.

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Peh 'her tongue' it was surprising she could even manage words.  "Why yes I do!", he responded, slipping his stone knife to his side.  Daydreaming about stabbing her in the face if she dared to climb into his domain.  

"What brings you out here this fine day?",  he continued.  Quite literally looking down at the wolf.
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"How fascinating." How many more of these fauna would Celnes meet that spoke wolf-tongue? There was elk, deer, then there was a cat, even a bear.. And now even a raccoon, with a carefree and almost mischievous look that seemed to be looking for trouble — also had such divine power. It was a true wonder though if the High Elk brought such coincidences, or this world itself had something within it's sleeves. It was magical, otherwordly, much unlike her homeland and even the one after that.. Unsettling, at times.

Her gaze then drifted around, a smell so low, yet drifting due to previous rain, "I was tracking an acquaintance.. It seemed like she left and hasn't come back." To the forest did the direction lay ; but evidence of someone moving toward. Wet footsteps through the murky fields, as Celnes bent down and observed those very paws, and shifting of grass weaving toward that direction. It came from her forest and cross, yet no signs of turning elsewhere, or coming back, as far as she can see.

"A shame."

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"Sorry, haven't see anyone out here.", he said, stuffing three berries into his face, with the hammock swinging back and forth in the breeze.  "Even though I see a lot from up here..."

In the midst of massurating the berries, "Wait who even are you again?", wiping purple goop from his tiny muzzle.
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She sighed lightly, for not even a raccoon had spotted her. Minthe was an auburn wolf, hard to miss within the open land of the fields. Mixed with the golden flora, she was a sore-thumb that had not been spotted. Yet Celnes could tell she did go this way by the tracks and the subtle scent out of the forest.. Did she leave before he settled into the trees? Or somehow diverged elsewhere? There was a lot of suspicions toward The Pantheon, but in the end all was basic assumptions and vague leads to so.

"Ah, I am Celnes Deorwine, of Elkshire." To fauna of these lands, rankings of wolves probably mattered little. But it wasn't as if she lied of her appearance, just lacked of ranking until said otherwise, "a pleasure," the Queen said, sitting down. She was getting awfully used to looking up at others within the trees. But this fellow held some interesting objects.

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So it seemed like there would be no face stabbing today, the wolf didn't seem to want to climb. Upon side eyeing the lowly ground walker when she took interest in his things, he swung his little legs out of the hammock to look at the woman more formally.

A pleasure to meet him, "yes it is." , he said ambiguously. His black beady eyes met her stare upon his things. The little racoon raised an eyebrow, did she even know what this stuff was?
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Ah. This was an arrogant raccoon. A silence fell between as nothing more was provided, "and your name?" she so asked as he didn't give one. Surely his kind has names as well, as she noticed even elk and cats have their own. Though if he didn't, it would perhaps bring more questions. Yet something told the Queen he wouldn't so willingly give his name, or even so, try to play a game on the matter.

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He had just met this ground walker, perhaps they could help each other in some way though, he had used many fake names before. It made it easier to to outrun you own mischief. But for whatever reason, Danni liked this woman, something about how she carried herself highly, yet wasn't too demanding.  "You can call me D for now" 

Providing her a codename of sorts was a step up, it was actually part of his name. Weaving his obsidian knife through his fingers, "Would you care to tell me about yourself?" 
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"How mysterious," she said with a slight chuckle. She knew wolves who would try and hide their identity, but didn't see a reason a raccoon. There was of course the thought, if it meant he was working for someone ; but surely this one was a bit too wild, and too blunt to be under any wolves reign. She could only think another wolf would want to spy on her, feeling other fauna wouldn't care too much of the business that they would do. 

Him and his strange tools as well, it reminded her of the occasional gadgets she'd find in Elkshire land. They were hidden away, buried within moss and vines, or sometimes by pure chance within the ground itself.. Did he find one somewhere else? "What would you like to know?" Celnes inquired, as she threw the thoughts aside and wondered with a raised brow.

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"Well, what'cha do for a living?", twirling his knife. "Everyone has gotta find a way to eat?" 

Normally he didn't usually get this far in conversation with wolves, generally they would be snarling up his tree by now, or off chasing something else, idiots that knew of nothing higher than themselves.  But, this one seemed a bit different, more intelligent, tactical in the way she spoke.   This one had the little devil's interest.
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She beckoned her paw to the forest behind, "I live within Elkshire," she gazed to it's shadowed trees and flickered her ears. The slight sound of leaves and grass crunching within the distance, though no wolf on the mound she could only smell some elk prowling about. Were they curious she wondered? They did speak to her, not those who were born within The Elk's Crown, only the stragglers, ever did.

"Much of my efforts were placed into it, hailing on it's throne." Her roots placed, children roaming and if one day she were to perish, at the very least she would hope they would continue it on. But she didn't wish to die any soon, not before her conquers were wider then the time being. Woodlands and the Range were already trouble to keep — and she wasn't satisfied with how unstable they were.

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