knock knock come and meet,

Swarming to the valley, she tip-toed beyond the flower beds, carefully avoiding their trampling. They were too pretty to be within her way, a waste to be crushed ; dazzled in the wildflowers of white.. Didn't that suit Highvallians quite nicely, "My dearest family!" so Manon would raise her voice, but upmost careful to not yell, that wasn't very lady-like. Very ugly.

"A lovely home that has been founded, surely the Gods have blessed."

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He woke with a start.

This was not his comfortable bed.

This was not his perfectly-chilled den with high ceilings and exquisite decor.

What was going on?

Rising upon cautious paws, he surveyed the bounty of nature and gentle rolling slopes nestled within the protective embrace of high mountains. His nose twitched, the scent of flowers triggering his allergies. Well - maybe he'd had too much at the feast yesterday, or stayed up too late, or some such nonsense - for surely there was no other explanation to his waking up in broad daylight in a field like some country bumpkin.

It was unheard of.

Absurd.

“Manon,” he called suddenly, spying a familiar figure. “What brings me - you - us - here? I find my memory hazy, and I am also unfamiliar with this stretch of... quaintness.”

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The birds were singing, the sky was bright and clear, surely it must be the blessing of the heavens to shine upon Highvalley of this day. Blessed be the family, for they all were coming to and arriving together, and even those who once served so ; what a great honor to be bestowed upon this blessed day, "oh dearest Gwenaël!" oh did the splendor of the AuClair's awake, but not of the finest lady spectable, but instead of the dearest and highest looks of another cousin. What branch was he from again? He carried fine silvers and whites like any other, touched in a peach and grape galore.

It not mattered though, Manon thought, as she then happily swung over with a musical touch to her voice, "My! It's our newest home, Highvalley. Is it not just beautiful? Even our other kin lay within these mountains." A paw to her chest as if she was orchestrating the finest of speeches, and glory to the household that they hailed from. The smell of the Highbloods were strong, every hour it felt closer and closer to achieving truth within these peaks ;

wasn't it nice he could join them.

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Heaving a gentle, beleaguered sigh, he rolled his shoulders lightly, casting a wary eye toward the mountains that loomed overhead. It was charming, admittedly; the rolling open green filled with smatterings of pink and lavender flowers blowing idly in the gentle breeze, nestled safely within the land's embrace. At first he thought this some peculiar dream, but as he flexed his paws and felt the earth beneath them, he decided it wasn't.

Besides, his dreams usually had an entourage of fine women peeling his rabbits for him.

“Our new home?” Gwenaël said, aghast. Not that he found Highvalley to be unpleasant, but - his den! His furs! Their sweeping panoramas, the well-worn pathways his family had trod for generations -

“Who else is here? What is this sorcery? This must be a trick, a prank - we cannot have just up and left in a single sleep! What of our old home? Oh, my things - I had so many beautiful things -” the Highblood lamented, raising his head to the sky in a low keen. He didn't want a new home, gods damn it all.

Swallowing painfully, Gwenaël squared his shoulders, trying to look nonplussed. He had to pull himself together - Manon should not witness him so bereft. Emotions of such a nature were beneath their kind, after all.

“What of our servants?”

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Percival emerged from the treeline, glimmering silver coat pristine as it shimmered in the light. The High King looked absolutely regal in the sunlight. Manon and...Gwenaël. Percival thought he had lost his mind once and for all, but it seemed he was in a treat for some surprises. Before he spoke, cleared his throat, and made himself known, he picked up on the last piece of his cousin's apathy towards the new lands. 

"Oh Gwenaël—" Percival would begin, his words speaking in a husky, long drawl as he approached his Highkin. "You will choose new ones, I assure you." A sly smile found its way to his face as he gave his cousin a mid-way bow, expecting the same in return. 

He'd return a short gesture to Manon, as well, then turned back to his he-wolf kin. "Manon is right— it seems we have all but fallen from the sky in this valley. One similar close to home, mind you." He knew that it was not ideal— their situation— but it was better than being thrown in a well-washed desert of all things. Their countless monuments of history would've waned, too, but Percival remembered them all. Their founding patriarchs, especially. 

"Our kin have followed, too."

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"My cousin! I, of course, will help you on this quest of re-acquiring furs. My, we surely will find the most exquisite in the land!" A paw to her chest for this exclamation, a slight 'ohoho' laughter to follow. The dearest was always wanting the finest of it all, his room decorated it only beauty and comfort that she dare to say would match to the highest Highblood, but all at the cost of a servants word. But pray tell, to come along and gather her own! "surely the servants, that we do have," she said, "will help."

Then the High King approached, and Manon nodded her head as so. All seemingly fallen, away from the land they so new, and yet were as quickly to claim so. A very typical approach to the Highvalley wolves, they always knew what they wanted, and would do nothing to get it. But ah, that did result in some.. Unseemingly drama, and gossip to litter the land that all, especially Manon, greatly enjoyed.

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At the approach of their King, Gwenaël would offer a customary dip of his head before allowing his eyes to rest upon him in turn. He seemed well; not a blemish, not a scratch, transported into this mystic place exactly as he had appeared before. Whatever sorcery brought them here, it must have worked instantaneously.

“Well met, my Lord,” he said by way of greeting. As horrible as the situation was, he felt relieved to see their patriarch with them in the thick of it, as the clan would surely benefit from his guidance as they navigated these strange new waters. “Ah... yes, I know; it's just sentimentality and all. I was rather fond of my bearskin, but I suppose it doesn't matter now.”

Gwenaël relaxed visibly as Percival informed him of the arrival of the rest of their kin. If this was a punishment after all, then at least they were in it together - misery loves company, so to speak. He gave Manon a strained smile, still sorrowful over the loss of his treasures, but he appreciated that she was trying.

“Well, I suppose I ought to take a tour of the new grounds. Anything I should be aware of before venturing into depths unknown? Gods, are there natives here? I never thought to ask.”

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