we light the way

@Godbrand

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Edith had given herself a few days to rest before traveling again. Although her beesting hadn't been significant—and it had been removed relatively easily by @Rafferty—she aired on the side of caution in fear of irritating it more. She decided to travel east today to stretch her legs; she'd always ventured north and west in the past and didn't know what lay to the east. 

She came across what she assumed to be an abandoned claim when she came across Winterheart Forest. There was a common pack scent among the tangle of ancient conifer trees, but it was faded, and the area felt abandoned and empty. She spent some time snooping around before she moved on; now that it was empty, it was just another wooded area. 

The conifer trees soon gave way to evergreens. It'd been a subtle transition, but the change in scent was a welcomed change. After wandering through the woods a little further, Edith came across Little Balm Lake. She strode slowly into the clearing, eyes bouncing about the area and ears swiveling to catch any sound that could reveal any hidden individual's presence, and paused a few steps in, wanting to make sure that the coast was clear.

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He was out and about.

Temperate a relatively new place to the man, he crossed the waters from the Plains and wandered further in. He would be a very piss poor hunter if he didn't manage to bring something down - the woodland was lush with prey scent. While too far to drag back to Greenwood, Bran decided to hunt anyway. He could use the practice.

However, he picked up the stronger smell of another predator. A wolf. Choosing to investigate, he spots a yearling of brown hue crossing into the woodland. Seeing as she was a stranger, and not aware of him - he decided to greet her. What sort of conversation they could have was not known... He did not have Lady Kore's charisma. Nor anyone else's.

But he felt it rude to ignore the girl. She could easily pick up his scent, come closer and see him there anyway. "Greetings," he began, a respectable distance from her. Bran turned his neck slowly to look through his half-lids. He licked his lips thoughtfully, quietly, before adding the words "you would not be interested in hunting together, would you?" It was... time. Time to socialize a bit. Sometimes, even he felt a bit lonely.

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"Greetings," a stranger called. 

Edith turned towards the voice and found him after a moment of searching. There was a likeness that connected them that she noticed right off the bat, and she felt at ease in his presence. She relaxed and shook out her coat to lessen the tension.

"Hello," she said in return. She took a step closer, taking him in from a distance with an admiring eye. "I would—I could go for a meal." It'd been a few hours since she'd last ate and she could go for something to tide her over until the morning. "Do you have a preference for what we hunt?"

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He would be lying if he hadn't already spotted a few choice specimens. "I saw a bighorn sheep herd back the way I had come" He informed the girl, angling his body to the east and giving a nod "mostly young females with children, though a few were old." He didn't have to tell her what that meant. The older members of a herd were prime targets for predators. However, he let her decide as he had been the one to ask.

"But if you found something else, I am not averse to hunting it." With wild sheep, Bran had to remember they could climb fairly easily. If these were the mountains, their prey would easily be lost but this was a flatter surface. With plenty of foliage to hinder both them and their prey. Though they were more agile than the sheep, who crashed and went wild at the first sign of trouble. He had no way of knowing of the brunette's aversion to hunting deer though.

But he hadn't spotted any that were easier to take down. Mostly with young, and he left them alone.

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Edith didn't mind hunting sheep. They were a fun challenge, and she relished the chase and the killing. "Nothing caught my attention," she said with a shrug; bighorn sheep was on the menu. "How far away were they?" she asked. She didn't mind going far if it meant that she'd get a good meal out of it. 

"And how slow were those elders?" Her mind was already at work, devising a plan for their hunt. "Did any of them seem sickly?"

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"Not far."

Bran turned on the spot, flicking a tail for the other to follow. They were near the upper part of the Lake, last he saw, because they stopped to observe and drink. The girl had questions, but he didn't mind. They were straight to the point, and they didn't involve asking anything about him in particular.

So, they more or less walked and talked. "One did" he replied quietly "seem injured. I saw her with a limp, an elder." His ears piqued when they closed in on the herd, but Bran kept to the shadows and foliage as they watched. Sure enough, a small herd of sheep. The elders were off to the side.

He pinpointed the injured one. She had a gash above her leg. Perhaps a failure of climbing. Well, if she could not climb they were in luck. If she tried and fumbled, she'd make easier work for them. Bran deferred to the girl's judgment now. He turned to look at her, waiting for orders. He did not mind them.

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She followed him, listening to everything she needed to know regarding their hunt. They had a clear target—who was easy to identify due to their injury—and the only thing missing was a plan. That was where she would come in. "We need to find a way to separate it from the rest of them," she thought out loud. There were many ways in which they could do this, but they had to be wary of the rest of the sheep. She wasn't sure how much they were willing to sacrifice to save the elder. 

"We'll need to be exact with our timing," she said, remembering what her father had taught her about boars, "and find a way to trip it up." Bighorn sheep were notorious for their eyesight and cunning nature. They were much smarter than the prey Edith usually hunted. She searched where the sheep ate from their vantage point, searching for any advantage they might gain from the landscape. It appeared the herd had traveled down from a rocky incline, and could easily retreat up the hill and into the forest. 

"You'll chase them to the hill," she instructed. "I'll be hiding at the base; there's no way that elder will make it far." 

"You'll distract it and keep it occupied while I come from behind and break its leg." From there it'd be much easier to kill it.

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"Very well."

He agreed swiftly to the plan, finding no fault with it. After a glance at the vantage they had with the sheep, he slipped quietly away toward them. His steps were soft and silent, making sure to circle to the edge of the herd and not fully behind it. He wanted some to believe they could make it out alive, thin the herd, and focus on any stragglers.

Pinning himself to the earth, he shuffled closer. Once acceptable, he let out a low woof. The sheep looked up, alert. He focused on the grazing elder still, who was content to allow the rest of the sheep to alert her to any trouble. A few seconds passed before he lunged. The prey seemed to be too lazy - watchful, but lazy. They didn't even drift away from the lake.

But all it took was the emergence of a predator to startle them. He made no effort to conceal himself as he bit the haunches of the herd, shepherding them to the hill that the girl spoke of. Some did flee, mostly mothers and children. It was too much for a single wolf to control, but Bran did his best. The elder struggled to keep up, however.

He focused on her and her alone. The rest were there to let her believe safety was in numbers. Aiming a snap at the hind of one sheep, they veered and crashed into the elder. She tripped and bellowed, falling before the hill as the others jumped and climbed. Bran growled, signaling the girl as he leapt onto the elder sheep's back end. Dragging her to the earth.

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Godbrand was obedient, and Edith nodded approvingly as she watched him slink away. She kept her eyes on him as she ventured off to her post and held her position until it was time for her to join the fray. She admired him in the meanwhile—he was a handsome and amiable man—and watched in silent awe as he managed the herd on his own. Edith knew this was no easy task, and she was surprised that Godbrand handled it so well. 

She leaped into action when he signaled her with a growl. She had been hiding in some underbrush next to the base of the hill and shot from her hiding spot like a bat out of hell. They weren't far from where she had waited, and she quickly cleared the distance between them. Edith knew that she had her work cut out for her; the ram thrashed wildly despite her age and her window of opportunity was limited. She forcefully shoved the bighorn ram's head onto the ground, held her down, and angled her just right so the throat was exposed. Once everything was set in place, Edith bit down hard and ended the prey's life. The death wasn't instantaneous, as the prey fought until the very end, and she held on until the body stilled. 

"I thank The High Elk for this successful hunt," she prayed, backing away from the body with her head bowed. Edith then turned her attention to Godbrand and licked her chops. 

"You were impressive."

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The hunt was over, even if it hadn't taken seconds. By the time he grabbed the sheep and wrangled it to the earth, he knew the elder one was done for. There was no time or reason to doubt the girl's abilities. Despite her age, she showed she could be relied on when things became messy. He had a moment to recall his mother teaching him to hunt, and failing. She was a small woman, and he had been a tall yearling. It had been just an adjustment of skill and height. Her advice had been sound.

The girl thanked a deity for this success, causing him to look up and release the rump of the sheep. Now it was still; there was no need to grip it. Though curious about this, Bran hadn't seen much religious belief in Canis outside of a few sparse moments, he focused on her compliment. "As were you" he rumbled, having not the capacity to take thanks or comments very well. He oft directed it back, especially with cooperating in tasks "I am Godbrand - Bran is fine." He added, realizing they hadn't been introduced.

"Pardon my ignorance; who is the High Elk?" and "do you require a tithe to gift your deity?" Sacrifice, blessing, offering. It was all the same in the end. The important thing is, he did not touch the body until he was certain she didn't need to offer anything. It was just polite in the presence of the devout.

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”Bran,” she repeated, favoring the short-form of his name. ”I’m Edith. Princess of Elkshire.” She would always carry her title with pride. ”Are you from around here?” Her nose twitched. ”I don’t think I recognize the pack-scent you carry.” She could at least determine that he was apart of a group. There was a plethora of different wolf-smells that contributed to his musk.

”The High Elk is the creator of our world and my family follows His way. He is everything, but mostly he tells us what is right and what is wrong, and tells us whether or not we are on the right path.”

”We are blessed in His eyes—those who have brown pelts like you and I are pure and untouched by sin.” How would Bran take in all of this new information? Edith didn’t have a good read on him yet.

”But, no, The High Elk does not require any sacrifices. I’m simply thanking Him for the prime hunting conditions,” she smiled at him, ”And for the help taking down the sheep.”

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[align=justify][small][narrow]"Princess."

He repeats the word, not because it is lacking but because he corrects himself. Wolves could call themselves what they wanted, and he really did not care in the end. Arguing over status and blood was exhausting. Bran's head tipped somewhat though. Edith was not his princess, but she was a princess. At least he could be respectful.

"Your world" he repeats again "your original world or, this one?" He couldn't know Edith had been born here, only assume really [b]"
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"Princess."

He repeats the word, not because it is lacking but because he corrects himself. Wolves could call themselves what they wanted, and he really did not care in the end. Arguing over status and blood was exhausting. Bran's head tipped somewhat though. Edith was not his princess, but she was a princess. At least he could be respectful.

"Your world" he repeats again "your original world or, this one?" He couldn't know Edith had been born here, only to assume really "if it is this one, why does the High Elk allow the heathens to call it Canis?" Bran was a bit confused by this, though it really did not matter in the grand scheme of things "would it not be better to call it something else?"

Canis meant dog, to his knowledge.

That seemed quite insulting to an elk. "I am from Greenwood. We reside in the Plains" he moved on, allowing the exchange of information "hmm" Edith would casually mention thanking Bran again. He dipped his head, probably knowing it was useless to argue with her "I, ah... Thank the High Elk as well. And my hunting partner."

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"Your world," Godbrand asked, "your original world or, this one?"

He was like Rafferty—reborn into this world under mysterious circumstances. "This is the only world I've ever known," Edith answered. "But I've never heard anybody call this place 'Canis'." What a stupid name; her expression soured as she mulled over it for a brief moment. "That's not what it's called here," she said, doubling down. 

Greenwood struck a chord with her, and she thought of Warwick, Calhoun, and Vermillion. "My sister lives there—her name is Vermillion. Do you know here?" She didn't expect him to know her brothers—since she didn't know whether or not they had visited yet—so she focused on her sister instead. 

Once Godbrand had given The High Elk his thanks, Edith tucked into the bighorn sheep and began to tug at its shoulder. It took a few tries, but when she managed to tear it off, she distanced herself and began to eat.

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He gave a nod. So it was as he thought; she had been born here. "I have heard few people call it that" Bran admitted quietly "what do you and yours proclaim it to be?" It was fine to not tell him, but she had off-handily mentioned it was dubbed something else. Called something else. Now he was a bit curious but would accept her not saying it.

"Yes," he also added when Edith spoke of her sister "I have met her" Strange that a wolf didn't live with their birth pack before reaching maturity, especially in the same litter - but he supposed Vermillion had her reasons. It was not for him to say "she is doing well." But Bran could not give anything else to Edith; he didn't know the girl personally. It felt rude to give more.

Edith said no more, content to rip off a leg. He let her do the first pickings before grabbing another. Tearing the leg off after a few yanks, he settled down nearer to the corpse. Just in case any scavengers came knocking prematurely.

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"There isn't one," Edith said with a shrug. She wanted to dispel this 'Canis' bullshit as quickly as possible. 

Godbrand answered her question and gave as little information about Vermillion as possible, and she nodded with disinterest. She hadn't been that interested to find out about her sister, but she had been trying to be better about accepting her family—flaws and all. It was as hard to do as she had expected. 

She ate feverously, not at all caring about how barbaric it looked. What was most important to her was eating it all without losing any of it to scavengers.

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Hmm. "Perhaps the High Elk will gift you and your people with the true name of this world, then." Just a thought. He held no bias or discrimination against them, especially against this High Elk. True, he was a bit curious about the religions in Canis. Or whatever you called it. In the end, it was just another world he'd been privy to allow knowing it existed. But he had to know something fully to either embrace or reject it. Right now, he was being polite.

He would finish his part of the food slower than her. Edith ate with passion or stubbornness - or both. In the end, there was barely anything left for the birds or coyotes. She bid him farewell, and he grunted - because a meaty piece of flesh in his jaws required civil behavior. He wasn't going to spit a goodbye back, throw food everywhere. Disgusting. He added one singular flop of his tail to her walking off though. Bran stuck around for about another hour, eating and cleaning himself.

Then? Back to the Plains, he went.

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