Petrichor

 In the hollow of a tree the yearling woke from a nightmare. 

 The ancient oak had long ago been cleaved by some great schism, a trunk split and dying slow. In the rough-hewn corner of the opening was a spiderweb, the tendrils glinted like spun sugar, guiding raindrops through a maze of silk. 

 In front of him, somewhere in the pitch, a creature moved. “Hey! Who's there?”

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It had only been a few days since the favoured trio of Elkshire had departed onto their new discoveries. Taking a general northwards direction. Every so often they'd take to their own course, scouting different zones and places to gather as much information and markers as they could. Being three, they could cover ground alot quicker, and they were all in tune with one another's movements by now. 

As Warwick had a nose to the damp soil, collecting all particles of details here, he was unaware of the sleeping lad in the trees yawning chest. Their sudden voice caused the umber prince to jump on the spot, with the hairs along his neck and spine bristling in an instinctual reflex.

Holy High Elk!, he whipped round to face the talking tree, and he peered through the rain-pecked web to search for the beady sleepy eyes within. 'Is that how you greet anyone who dares walk past your.... home?', there was a tinge of judgement in his tone, but only because of the pain he felt in his pride to have been caught off guard.

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 “It is when they're traipsing around in the rain at night.” Rafferty retorted back to the critical swath of dark. Getting up, he crept to the edge of the hollow, his eyes adjusting to the dim. 

 A wolf. Brown and smelling of deer. “Fuck - not you again.”

 He sniffed harder, concentrating.

 Oh. 

 “Shit, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

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The voice continued from the deteriorating trunk, and Warwick would not be the daft curious pup he once was and dive snout first into the unknown chasm. Therefore he just rose a brow and was about to walk onwards, to leave the stranger in his cocoon and continue with his nights work he had set out to do. 

But a paw stopped mid-air when they made the accusation and the duke looked round at the similarly dark-pelted wolf that now stood at the mouth of the hollow. His mind ran through a list of names, one that would connect with the voice and now face that caught his attention, but none came to mind, he did not know who this young loner was. A correction then followed suit from the tired voice, and the prince spun around to face them again. 

He couldn't help but let a small laugh spill from his maw, 'It doesn't sound like whoever you thought I was, was of fond memory'.

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 “You can say that again.” But even as he agreed, the youth would privately cop to a level of comfort and familiarity where Edith was concerned. 

 This dude was new. And a dude - that much he was aware of now that he'd woken up properly. 

 Rafferty rose, edging out of the hollowed tree. His nose twitched, confused at how familiar the stranger smelled. “Are you from around here?”

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As the lad made himself more visible, so did the unavoidable scar upon their sealed eye. Warwick couldn't help but stare a little and hoped the rain and night blurred this out slightly. He pointed his head, 'Were they the same pleasant person to have done that to you?', admittedly it was quite the blunt assumption, and dare tread upon a personal boundary, but the duke couldn't help but want to point out the elephant in the room and he perhaps wouldn't be the last.

Warwick straightened himself, poised to reflect his own pride in his home, 'Not quite. Elkshire is home for me, in The Elks Crown, south of here'. He wouldn't parrot the same question, since it was clear Warwick was the one intruding on their home.

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 Rafferty's ears swiveled back at the stranger's question. 

 “No, they didn't.” And the one who did would never get what he had coming. 

 “Elkshire.” The youth repeated the name, sniffing again. His eyesight was failing him. Already weakened to half-strength, the darkness seeped into the hollow spaces making the world bleed black.

 “Is that near Nightwalkers? You smell like someone I know.”

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Warwick wouldn't push after that, almost tasting the sour sinister meaning in the man's words. A story not perhaps one at present. 

The duke couldn't help but feel his pride being gnawed at when the lack of knowledge of his own pack came to light and the one he rather resented was one better recognised or respected.

The darkness which consumed the two of them would mask the frown of his feelings on his face, but would far from sugar-coat the bitterness in his muttered reply. 'My father's pack is nearby to us, yes'.

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 He could practically hear the prideful trill of Princess and how she spoke of her father's pack as something to be feared. Rafferty's ears pricked, trained in concentration as he drew a line from one dot to the other. 

 “Do you have a sister?”

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Warwick paused for a moment, with only the dull pattering of rain against his coat to fill the silent void. The young gentleman was clearly familiar in some aspects, and he wondered which sister had encountered him. The duke then let out a scoffed laugh, 'I have many, but I can quickly narrow two sisters down that you are most likely to have met outside our claim. Maral and Edith'. Take your pick.

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smol post, trying to get back into my flow again!

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 “I don't know her name.” He said with a hefty shrug. “Been calling her Princess cuz she acts like one.” 

 The majority of his form remained covered, but rain dripped along his head, rivulets catching on the sharp edges of damp fur. 

 “That narrow it down between the two?”

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A thought traced over the forms of both sisters, one being the most silent of the two and the other... pretty much would suit his one-worded description of the second he had in mind. Oh, how he couldn't wait to find his sister and call her by her newfound pet name. 

'Brunette, red eyes, with a scorpians sting in her words?', was the brute paying attention to the colour of her eyes though?

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 Rafferty barked out a laugh. “That's the one. Came across her a couple times - never got around to exchanging names.”

 He decided to fix that, at least partially. “I'm Rafferty. Not really from around here. You a Prince, then?”

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A hint of brotherly protectiveness propelled itself into his body, though he quashed those nerves when he thought Edith is more than capable of looking after herself with other men. Still, his younger sister will forever be his younger sister. 

'Seems you've both made quite the impression on one another if you keeping meeting?', plus the fond name. A sly grin spread on his lips, though surely Rafferty could detect the tone of jest if he could not see this.

'Warwick, prince of Elkshire', he nodded, asserting their assumption of him. 'And my sister Edith is actually a princess'. By nature and by title. 'So where are you from if not here? I'm on my way north, with Edith and my brother, Tabris, by chance do you hail from that direction?'.

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 Two royals, then. Though Rafferty's father had ruled their family pack, it was nothing so grand as all this - a land, a kingdom. Rafferty was no prince, but he wasn't a peasant either.

 “She's not as subtle about it as you.” A polite way of saying his sister sucked. “And nah, I don't...I don't think I come from here. I woke up in this land not long ago. It's...not what I know.”

 He didn't tell the prince how desperate he was to get back.

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Protective as he was of his siblings, there was an air to the man's tone that rang familiar bells in the duke's ears. They seemed to have gotten his sister down to a tee. He wondered how often they had met to have acquired such a good reading of her so quickly. 

He chuckled lightly, 'She's as subtle as a strangled crow in general'. But in the next beat, the prince sympathised with their situation. He was already missing home. To not know what home was, must be a loss that is tough on even the strongest of folk. 'We receive many into our home in a fairly similar situation to yours. You're welcome to seek my mother in Elkshire if you are looking for a home for the time being. You can mention Warwick sent you'. 

Be it he did not yet know the young male, he knew his mother was the most excellent at character judging. And if they were not who they seemed, she would not allow them entry.

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 Rafferty felt himself warm to the Prince, chuckling with him at the expense of dear sister @Edith. 

 At Warwick's invitation, the dark brown yearling inclined his head, pensive. A pack would offer him a home and some semblance of stability when all he'd known for weeks was upheaval. 

 “I think I will. Thank you, Warwick. I hope you have a safe journey.” His tail dared to wag. “Hopefully I'll see you around when you get home.”

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The other took his time to mull over Warwick's invitation. And remained mute as they did, and for a moment he didn't think they would accept or perhaps just brush it off with a respectful thanks. But in the way they mentioned home, he thought he just might. 

With the darkness enveloping the two dark brunettes, it wouldn't take long for Warwick to mingle further into its depths and out of sight when he would walk away. 'I look forward to it', and he hesitated before bidding his goodbye, 'I'll tell Princess you said hi, shall I?'.

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