happenstance crossing

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It was a one-eighty from where her intentions were initially leading her but Antornuat was a wolf who knew when to take a hint and the encounter with that pale female that left her now with a sore awareness even wolves were prone to behave no better than a territorial bear in rut—so was the life of wandering, not equipped with any arsenal of jaws on her side when things went awry with another, she learned to take life's lumps and proceed with haste in her step to avoid the unsavory. 

Antornuat heeded this tree-rich area with a bit more caution than the last, though little was still unimpressive, she anticipated on slipping away with no more ruckus than that of the sound of her paws breaking foliage.

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She approached through the forest, something settling within her spirit that felt.. Off, to say the least. Unrested that she was, Celnes took to the borders to relinquish this anxious feeling in her steps, like an impending doom she couldn't settle about. She thought to pray to the High Elk, but they have never answered her prayers before, even within desperation of desire — there was always a silence, despite seemingly her kin always read something one way or another. All, starting to take more paths, that were not to her liking. Raised eight only for them to be.. Less then disappointing.

She was bitter.

"Oh my, it seems someone is wandering a bit too far into Elkshire claim," the Queen raised her head and tail as she looked upon this light figure between the trees. A behemoth within height that she was, a covering that reminded her much of what owls portray — tackling in golds and whites.. She didn't smell someone that was around here, but nonetheless, this woman stepped too close into Elkshire to her liking.

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It was the soft snap of a branch that turned Antornuat around, rough ears flicked up to sit high on her head as wildfire eyes found the oak-coated sight of a wolf who matched her stature, an undeniably strong presence anyone wiser—or at least anyone less socially inept—would look at and know to quicken their pace, utter something polite and short and carry on but she was none unlike the birds she mimicked, curiosity pulling her to a pause with one paw lifted in what could be seen as contemplation. 

Another fanciful word for a pack, Elkshire, at least this wolf was not so quick to bare her teeth in the name of it. 

"It wouldn't be on purpose I assure you," she said, deadpan and flat-faced, entirely unassuming though certainly respectful albeit unintentionally. "I do prefer your approach to it than some others I've met... Some beast of a wolf rolled me for a similar happening."

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"You never know who are plain-walkers these days.. So many who appear and disappear." She would rather risk a minor aggression then to chase out potential members. Celnes was confident within her rule of Elkshire, for if she were to howl — then surely many would flock to her need, or otherwise.. There was always someone, encroaching within the backdrop. She peered over her shoulder curiously to see if there was any, but at the moment was lacking. Perhaps she would need to find some royal guards. @Adrastos seemed promising, and she would tell over due to time.

"Trouble you say?" she hummed lightly, "my dear the temperate is quite dangerous. I would dare say Elkshire is perhaps, the most tamed." There was a slight chuckle within her voice in so — but in truth Celnes didn't really know much about Labyrinthian and their secrecy, but she did know of Nightwalkers and their more hostile nature. A pride, that perhaps out of all — she held the most regal pack. Whether true or false, Celnes thought otherwise.

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Antornuat's head quirked to the side in subtle questioning. "I don't know about plain-walker, I'm merely lone, passing through," she said, flicking her short, tufted tail as she carefully sized up the other. It appeared the stranger was anticipating some arrival of another and the prospect brought a chill of unease to her gut—the stranger was only decent so far, she needn't let her guard down. 

"As I've learned," she commented, shaking the tension from her body with a snort as her muscles recalled the close encounter with the pale one. "Elkshire... The pack you're of, I suppose?" Packs scarcely intrigued her, such woeful things tethered to places like this when paws were meant to wander but as Antornuat let out a breath and felt that soreness spread a little more, exhaustion and hunger from her utterly pitiful attempts had begun to wound around her and while she'd had periods of poor luck, they'd never lasted so long as this. Antornuat could only hope this slim weakness wouldn't show, wondering if this stranger would change her mind and snuff Antornuat out like so. "I wouldn't be able to concur or not but I can presume it's the most palatable... Between that beast's and those gazers, I'd dare even say it's a relief."

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"Many who come here, are from elsewhere. A memory of what once was, death or otherwise.. Reborn here — those are plain-walkers. You will find not many are born within these lands." As an ear flickered, she grazed a paw behind it, twirling the furs and brushing past through her crescent-smile. At the point being, Celnes did not believe any who claimed they had been born around or otherwise — she was confident that most simply didn't realize, what had occurred to them. For.. The 'border' was awfully, suspicious.

She couldn't tread beyond it.

"Indeed, I am of Elkshire. I am Celnes Deorwine, it is safe in my forest." Yet to crown her own ranking, but the term of 'my' seemed enough to let a hint what was known. Royalty, as she was, for the Queen was never not at the bays of the forest.

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"Quite the observation, makes you wonder, doesn't it? What put the lot of us plain-walkers all here," she said, not entirely aware of how she happened to be in this place though her vagabond nature didn't allow her to think long and hard about it, some things weren't for her to understand and rarely did she try to involve herself in more than she had to—such things were messy, staying on the move didn't blend well with messy.

But as the stranger went on, Antornuat tutted an acknowledgment. "Your forest, you lead the Elkshire?" she said, seeking to confirm the implied; the word safe burned on the air like an ember, and her stomach twisted in some revolt to her recent and unwilling fast. "Antornuat," she offered in return, dipping her head the slightest in some faint re-greeting, contemplatively continuing, "Safe for your own alone or passers through as well?"

Mhm. Maybe it was out of need...

...perhaps she was intrigued.

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"At some point you forget about it.. Strangeness is a norm, but after nearly a year and more, you settle — many of us have been here short of two years." She had often thought of why and the hows ; and yet remained as they were. Abnormalities on occasion would happen but nothing that ever seemed to cause a neverending storm of changes — well, if you didn't count those who rebirthed. Although she was one of the individuals who died, and returned from that same death.

"I am the Queen of Elkshire," a proud smile with her head held high at a prime of royalty, "Matriarch of the Deorwine family," was also another she held supreme. Her roots have been spread, and no matter what would be: blood was shared, "it would depend on the passer. Friend, or foe?" a mischievous smile played onto her lips, for who was to say, this owl-wolf was not an enemy?

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"Forget indeed... I don't consider endeavors of such magnitude to be of my control anyhow, mustn't ponder it when there are more vital things to," food was on her lips though she wouldn't utter it—finding that to be something precious to keep secret lest this Elkshire wolf find that to be something worth manipulating, or perhaps target as a weakness worth twisting the pale wolf's need for. With a flick of her tail, Antornuat listened attentively as Celnes uttered her title like it was significant to a lone wolf with not a tie to be found. Antornuat wasn't utterly pitiful when it came to social graces, though, and if it kept her hide intact and unscathed by ferocity; well, she'd fold to norms she didn't follow. Dipping her head in proper greeting, she went on, "Pleasure to make the acquaintance of a Queen."

For once, her flat tone served her, implying respect deeply threaded as she spoke. "Friend where I am concerned, I leave the picking of unnecessary spats to whelps... and I'd loathe to make a sore impression with a wolf of your regard."

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"A pleasure, Antornuat." Celnes was growing fond of this wolf, and a desire to hoard into the flock that was of Elkshire. But she shouldn't be too hasty, for this wolf vaguely reminded her of another with a similar fire-burst personality, but just as she came, she spat out venom — and cursed at her and the pack. Unknowingly as well, had indirectly killed her son. But that was a story that the Queen of Elkshire would never know, but she knew those of such sharp personalities, were harder to tame and keep. So far, it had been proven over.. And over.

"We do not attack those who show no hostility ; for everyone gets lost," and everyone, was but another tempting to recruit into Elkshire, "especially to those who show a friendlier side to us." She may be of the lighter tones, colors and whites that weren't the most.. Loved, by the Deorwines, but Celnes was always one who preferred use and personality over what said-religion spoke of coloring.

"I dare ask, what are your plans from here on out?"

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Perhaps there were things at play that Antornuat couldn't quite understand, unintentionally muddled by a fog of the mind where hunger and a distinct lack of rest now, swaying her to aid her cramping gut and ease weary bones for the travel she had in store for them—but that didn't come to her as something to admit to Celnes, a wolf who boldly displayed titles and revered them, the life of a drifter wasn't one even the most tamely tethered wolves could understand... maybe, just maybe, if Antornuat was any better off; she'd of spoken her true intentions, it never mattered before, and without hostility between them now it may have tapered out just fine. 

But the pale wolf was an animal at her core, one which enjoyed the comforts she'd been able to store before reaching this land, and she yearned for a fill of food. If she played it right, Antornuat could hopefully get some sort of permission—pah!—to hunt on these grounds, maybe even get a night or two's rest on the outskirts where no wandering brute could come for seconds of her haunches. "Lost as I am, I dare admit I feel a bit found," she said, offering the faintest flicker of a smile on a maw that didn't wear one often; Antornuat, as wise as she thought she was, even knowing the intention of most pack wolves, had yet to consider a wolf who held herself in such high regard would have her sights set on some vagabond with a clever tongue that bled perceived sincerity and honesty. "Plans... Oh, I don't have any of significance, putting distance between me and that beast was it until now. A bit aimless but I'm certain I'll find something of a path soon enough."

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"Perhaps it was fate you were led here." Celnes toyed with mild amusement on her voice, her crescent smile and eyes gazing at them with but a fondness, "a path can be offered," she said with a hum. A hypothetical paw to be stretched out as she sitting on her hunches, feeling that the cards at ploy were just right. Lately the forest was vibrant, although once her kids were reigning true, slowly was being filled more and more.. Some perhaps a bit too young, but were fresh adults to make that of the generation ; and she would count herself still as young as she was. Wasn't she coming upon.. Five? The Queen knew not her age rewinded, and she was in-fact but a bit younger.

"Elkshire is open to any looking for a home to call their own."

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"A path? Mhm... Is that so?" said Antornuat, short tail flicking, an emphasis to her thoughts—without being wholly selfish, the following proposition within the simple statement of Celnes meant there would be sustenance provided even if only briefly, a place to rest... and she couldn't think of her own comforts any longer, could she? She had the boy, her boy some would say, and loathe, he was growing well under her care but this drought period was nothing short of trying to undo their combined efforts.

The pale wolf sighed, humming something low as she began, "There's a pup I've got on my paws—would this home extend to him as well?"

And once Antornuat had recovered herself, perhaps she could abandon the boy with the pack; sever each tie trying to tether her down in one fell swoop.

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A smile of a kindness, a mother? Though Matriarch that she was to the Deorwine Clan — Celnes has proved she was the best within those inner turmoil's, and more of a facade as she kept her reign as a Queen. Luring to any to these crowns, for the more there was ; the safer was Elkshire, and the prosperity that it was. So much to conquer and claim, yet so little to do and not enough power to wield so. Well.. At least she acquired a new alliance, and Celnes would need to visit the one within the plains to inquire that.

"Elkshire was a variety of children, such as my own," her grin widened, "your child will find companionship wit them — they are still quite young."

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