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He came across a dimly lit grove.

Granted, there were groves all over Temperate. Compared to the sparse pieces of foliage in the Plains, Temperate was stocked full of glades, groves, and forests. No, he was more interested in the oddity before him. All sorts of flowers. In peak bloom. It was becoming bitterly cold at night, hence his somewhat surprised expression that these plants were in good condition.

None of his family to knowledge had a penance for flowers, herbs, and plants. His mother stomped on them more times than he could remember. Sweating out infection most of the time, Bran hadn't really trusted most so-called healers in the past. He preferred to let his body do the work instead of risking a stranger shoving leafy greens down his throat. Or burning his skin with a poultice.

He approached, viewing the circular patch of flowers with interest. He went in an arch, refusing to step on them. Stopping before a bright flower known as a marigold, he sniffed. It smelt pleasant enough. There were common ones too; buttercups and tulips. He knew the buttercup trick as a child. Pups holding their chins under a buttercup and squealing as their chin turned yellow.

His eyes gazed over, lips twitching. Was he amused?

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Many new scents lingered within the woods he was birthed in, something he had become accustomed to living under his mother's care. She seemed to accept anyone so long as they didn't bite, something he had grown distaste for over time. In his opinion, many lounged about and were soft. Ignorant. Blinded. They were not followers. Not of the High Elk. Just lost souls misguided by a woman who couldn't care to correct them, so long as they looked up upon her crown. For one, however, it seemed she may have actually recruited some capable wolves. Maybe she had listened to him after all.

The man in question was ominous and large, but overall stood in the glory of the High Elk. He wondered idly if he had been brought here by his god to clear the haze and light a path to better lands, but he doubted his mother informed him of the flaws that traced his fur. He couldn't say if it was his fault or another's for the black blotches, but he supposed until he knew better, he would have to keep...a somewhat open mind. Calhoun had been wrong about white pelts. He would hate to do the same to those bearing black. “New I take it?”

His question was answered plainly by the scents mingling on the man's pelt, but how else would he break the silence? Cal sat at the edge of the clearing atop a smoothed rock, his tail thumping lightly against the stone in an almost cat like manner. “What skills do you bring to serve in His name?” The words were posed in a manner where he could assess the stranger himself. If he was truly worthy of living here in one of His sanctuaries.

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"Yes."

Bran lifted his gaze from the circle of foliage, finding a russet-brown young man upon a boulder. He did not speak outside of this, content to neutrally look on as the boy began to speak again. Yes, he was new. Others would know this, so he did not become bothered by the question. It would be asked... many more times. He had accepted this already, in Greenwood and in Elkshire.

"I bring forth physical skills; such as hunting, patrolling, and defense" Bran continued neutrally "it is up to Him if my path diverts elsewhere under His guidance." If the High Elk wanted him to do something else, a sign would be given surely. Edith proclaimed he was blessed, but only egotistic wolves believe them to be solely special. He did not think

- or believe -

he was anything but a skald. The High Elk did not speak only to him, if and when He did. Bran was a tool to be used by gods of any kind. He just happened to be brought into the fold of the High Elk before anyone else took a whack at him. "My name is Godbrand" he uttered after a silence, his head dipping politely to the other wolf "just 'Bran' will do."

His full name was a mouthful.

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He was met with a quick and concise answer, even if silence filled holes where the boy expected him to elaborate. Overall, though, he was impressed. Calhoun gave a short hmm under his breath as his head tilted to the side. The man's figure certainly fit his claim, and it was about time Elkshire saw paws like his. Not only did he bring needed skills, but he did not seem to shirk the High Elk's call like others might. “Godbrand...”

The name was muttered on his lips in full as he committed it to memory. He didn't mind speaking the whole length, it wasn't longer than his own, after all. “It's about time we saw some wolves of your talent.” Only He knew how many paws they would need to properly feed the pack come winter and properly defend his mother's extremely large claim. He had only learned recently how far Elkshire spanned with his travels to the mountains. “I like you.” The words were said in a lighter tone as he shifted to stand and hop down from his perch.

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To his light surprise, the young man used his full name. Bran blinked once, backing a bit away as the lad descended. Giving him room. Now that he was level, unused to the Elkshirian scents so far, there was... A hint of something else. As if the lad shared blood with Elkshire and another, lesser family. His nose twitched but he said nothing. It was quite rude and not part of their conversation currently. Queen Celnes could have fostered a litter with an outsider.

She was allowed to, as a woman.

"Does Elkshire lack physical talents right now?" Bran was not accusing but curious "perhaps I can teach those willing to learn a bit" He trailed off a bit, frowning slightly. Greenwood had been more or less the same, though. The packs here seemed to lack avid patrollers and fighters. Let alone hunters. Speaking of hunting. "though if I am hunting, I know I am not to touch the deer and elk." He didn't know what else there was though.

He sniffed idly. "Do you know what sort of prey can be commonly found here?" I like you said the boy, which was a good sign. The others were quaint and kind enough too. "You seem to be versed in the customs of the High Elk and Elkshire" Bran gave honestly. He was not fishing nor complimenting. A statement. A fact "I would not be averse to learning more than I know."

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He stepped back as Cal hopped down. It was to be respectful of his space, of course, but he couldn't help but feel as if he had gained some kind of influence over the other. Perhaps that was simply a boyish delusion, but the thought amused him all the same. Greed was not exactly new to his blood. His father and mother were perhaps the worst offenders, but it was something he had rarely indulged in. As far as he had ever considered, he worked for the High Elk and his family. So long as he followed the word of their savior, he would be able to provide for his family, but in the end that was all he truly cared about as well.

Did Elkshire lack physical talent? Yes, and he'd argue it was less of a present standing and more of a constant. As far as he was aware, since he was born, Elkshire had little guards. The turnout rate was high and with each new promise the pack was left grasping as each disappeared with time. Perhaps that too was the High Elk's will, given how little faith was truly present within the pack. “Elkshire has always been lacking.” Something he wouldn't admit so boldly had he been outside the claim, but this man was more promising than the rest. He could only hope he would not disappoint, as all the rest had. “If you can convince the others to train, then you would be doing us a service. The only Bearbuck to stay as long as I can remember is @Remus. He trained my siblings and I when we were younger, but his focus moved on to the next.”

Rather or not his efforts were worthwhile, he couldn't say, but what good were they if the only defenders were children and yearlings. He believed himself to be capable, but his travels had swiftly showed him just how much he still had to learn. “I fear I miss a bit of what happens here, though. I live with my father half the time to further my training, since the only mentor here prioritizes the young.” Truthfully, he wondered how many here would even recognize him as one of the queen's children. Many new scents now lingered in the woods, and it was hard to say how many remained that he did know. “I wouldn't oppose a lesson or two of my own, however. I've found my father's lessons...dramatic in comparison to the ones I had here.” One fighting style of many and he would be a fool to give up the opportunity to learn another.

Calhoun would merely nod, confirming the obvious. He wouldn't comment that deer actually were not under His protection, but few seemed to acknowledge that truth. His mother had done an excellent job spreading her own version of the faith they were meant to diligently uphold. “Hunting is my passion. We've had wild boars wander through semi-often. Enough to feed us on top of whatever small kill we can wrangle. The river also provides fish if you are fond of that taste.” They were fine in his opinion, but he did prefer the meat of boar when possible. “Turkeys also do well for a bird. They're fatter than the average so they can only fly short distances. So long as you keep them out of the trees, they're sitting ducks.”

A smile crept along his maw as Godbrand stated the obvious. He was well versed in his family's faith. More so than most. “That would be because I am. I've learned all I can from my family and memorized the teachings that go back to our origins. I have no issue teaching you what I know if you are truly interested. It would do you well if you plan to stay here. My mother accepts more than she should, knowing the sins some carry to our borders. Misfortunes have come our way from the lack or misguided faith.” He'd let notes of his mother's betrayal slip through, even if he would not name her as the one leading them all astray. As far as everyone knew, all she had done wrong was accept those who should have been turned away, but of course most did not see it that way. They were ignorant to the true teachings. “I suppose it would do well to know what you are aware of so far, aside from our hunting practices.”

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Bran was, of course, a listener. He took each word the boy told him with a subtle and gentle grain of salt. These were the words and opinions of the youth, despite them being truthful and direct. He didn't even give a name, so Bran had to mentally keep calling him 'boy'. It was somewhat annoying, but it was forgiven. In the chaos of meeting a new face, names could be forgotten about. Bran also didn't directly ask for the boy's name either. A mistake on his part too. Lacking, the boy said, Elkshire had always been. He hummed a bit at that, wondering if he had finally come to a place that had need of his skills.

"I am currently unranked, so I doubt I could lord a title over them and persuade them easily" Bran admitted with a furrow of his brow "but I will set up a few hunts and see who joins me" And he will begin to practice his physical skills in a public manner, seeing who and what would come to his proverbial door. Fighting skills, he assumed, were important in Elkshire. The cache was not so woefully neglected, from what he had seen so far "I will perhaps seek out Remus and ask him if anyone else has an interest in practicing and training. He may know more." It was a bit disappointing to hear that the one mentor willing to teach... Well, didn't really show interest in a wider training regime. That was part of mentoring. Unbias teachings.

The boy mentioned he wouldn't mind a lesson or two, remarking he liked hunting but had an interest in fighting skills. "I would be honored to teach what I know." While the boy also said something interesting about living with his father in another pack, Bran considered that none of his business. So it stood to reason that Edith and others had non-Elkshirian blood as well. Not that it would make Bran any less courteous to them. The boy also went on, freely, adding that his mother 'allowed a lot'. Bran arched a brow, saying nothing at first. Was Queen Celnes more accepting than others of her faith? "You mention sins" he replied at last "I have not been privy to others speaking of such to me yet." Edith only mentioned brown fur was a blessing, and that he was blessed because of it.

The boy finished by wanting to know what Bran knew so far.

"Not much" Since the lad was so open and honest, he felt it was prudent to do the same "I am aware my fur is a blessing of the High Elk, and that the High Elk is the deity of this world. No others exist, or else they are falsely worshipped" By heathens, no doubt "to hunt His kin is cause for banishment. It is the only sin I am aware of" He shifted somewhat, as if visibly embarrassed "outside of physical requirements, I enjoy hearing hymns and poems and lore and reciting them. My people call this role skald. The position honors and spreads word of religious belief in a subtle, understanding way. Enough so they can easily charm the masses."

He paused.

"I lack the charisma to do that, but I am not averse to learning any hymns the High Elk has given us. Perhaps I may find new apostles on my wanderings to bring back to Elkshire" The boy could easily see Bran was stiff as a board; dancing and performing were beyond his talents. But he could at least recite to others what he was aware of. Edith had readily accepted him into the pack due to his interest. "though I admit I will be selective about potential recruiting..."

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“Even without a title, you will likely be placed on equal footing, if not higher. The rest have done nothing to stand above you, so teach what you will. If I am in the area, I will gladly come for a hunt.” Honestly, he never saw anyone do much in terms of earning their place aside from filling the caches which....at least they did that much. Teodora of course was spared his judgement for the burdens his mother placed on her as were his siblings who shouldn't be expected of much given their upbringing. Some were more driven to provide such as himself, Warwick, or Edith, but others...mhn.

Idly, he'd wonder what his sister of greenwood had made of herself. She ran off to belong somewhere, as if she didn't belong here, but was she at least doing something with her new found life in a pack abroad? He, too, had left, but only to further his skills in the name of Elkshire. The same could be said of Aldritch...he felt he never belonged because of their mother's sin and felt forced to find a life of his own serving beneath the High Elk. If only he knew the sins that painted his pelt were not his own.

“If Remus returns to his post as more than just a royal teacher, I am sure more of Elkshire would flourish. His practices are stern, but they show results.” Of course, to another, his teachings may very well be seen as abuse, but how was he to know when his only two experiences were abuse and further abuse? Starving children so that they would be motivated to fight and forced to grapple under beastly instincts. It was unbecoming to be seen in such a way...if you were not one who went for the prize, while hunger did not claim your mind.

Unfortunately, it would become painfully obvious what his mother now taught to newcomers, which would be absolutely nothing. It was no wonder they had undevout followers roaming their woods. Godbrand wasn't even certain what would be considered a sin in His gaze, save for hunting the apostles. It was...a start, but one that would easily lead him astray. “That is...unfortunate to hear.” Of course, others than his mother were allowed to accept members into the pack, but he could find no blame on Edith or Warwick. They both were just as devout as he, even if Warwick still struggled to accept the truth placed before him. The only one Calhoun could blame was his mother.

“Your fur is, for the most part, blessed. I can not say you are wiped clean of uncertainty, but you stand on grounds higher than sinners. The black that weaves your colors is an omen to my family. We do not know what it means, so we take caution. From my experience...I believe it shows potential. Misguided or led astray, but here you are in the full glory of His light.” A smile lit his lips, spoken like a true cult leader. Not that he knew what a cult was, mind you. “You are lost, but you can be found. Just know others may keep their distance because they do not know what to make of you. So long as you are devout, however, you will be fine.” Words he would always believe in, even for those whose sins painted the entirety of their pelt. The High Elk would save them all.

“You would be correct about the High Elk. He is our watcher and protector, so long as we protect His own. The browns of our pelt signify His glory and acceptance into His light. Sins come in many forms, though at a base, anything that goes against the High Elk's word may be considered sinful. Those who sin are stripped of His light as a warning and a punishment. White is the mark they bear, something you will find many have here.” Some of his siblings even had more white than the outsiders unceremoniously invited into their safe haven, but it was no fault of their own. “I should make one misunderstanding clear. White is not the mark of a sinner themselves. It is the punishment and warning of their parent's actions. For that reason, they might be saved should they be brought into His light.” He wouldn't point out the siblings he shared with white when he had said enough. Godbrand seemed smart, and he would piece two and two together on his own. Perhaps he would even see to not trust his mother's words so directly.

“I'm afraid I am ill versed in the...hymn and dance department.” He'd likely look like a fool with flailing limbs had he tried, but it seemed he and the dark man shared that. Funny how they had barely met for a minute, and Godbrand could be more of a father than his own. “That being said, if you learn or make your own from the teachings of the High Elk, I am sure they would do well come the Wintertide Jubilee It is the one time we are allowed to feast on the flesh of elk. He allows it to prepare us for winter and shows sacrifice for the sacrifice we give him.” They were wolves and needed nourishment. Forgoing elk, and in his mother's case, deer, was a major part of their diet. It was only fair that they be allowed to sin freely once a year. “We hold a whole festival for the event. They are meant to be happy times before things get hard.”

Already, Godbrand showed much more potential than past recruits, and he couldn't help but feel he may be right about black pelts. Maybe they weren't so bad, so long as they could be led back from their misguided path.  If he wished to selectively recruit, Calhoun would by all means have no complaints. Someone had to be the bad guy, and it seemed his mother refused to do what was necessary unless it benefited her soley. “That would be much appreciated, Godbrand. Ah—” It seemed to only hit him then that this whole time he had been using the man's name but never once offered his own. He supposed he was used to others not asking or already aware of his title. Blinking the mild embarrassment and realization away, he'd clear his throat, “My apologizes. You may call me Calhoun.” The name reserved for his family and the disciples of the High Elk only. It was early, and perhaps he would be burned with disappointment, but he really did like Godbrand. “Prince of the first brood, though that was likely obvious by now. Prince Calhoun or Calhoun will do.”

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He listened.

The boy was obviously passionate about his beliefs, and it was polite to listen with full attention. Bran had asked, after all. Ignoring it because it may or may not cooperate with his personality or own beliefs... It was just rude. He was attempting to make a go of this community; the boy spoke the truth though, about the pelt colors and the significance behind it. He tilted his head in some curiosity at the white pelt explanation. "Offspring of sinners can be redeemed, even though they could be marked with sin themselves" he repeated in his own words, a brief frown and a nod. To show he was listening "how do you tell the sinners that the High Elk punishes apart from the ones that have slipped into this world?" He was not in any way discrediting the boy and his religion; he wanted to do this right. He wanted to make sure he was learning the correct path.

"Those that have no reaching genealogy in this world so far..." He frowned now "but are marked colorless. Are they capable of being redeemed? Or because we could not know their past sins... should they be treated as being cast from His light?" Yet the High Elk could know their sins, even if His light did not reach into another world. But the High Elk was a guiding light as much as a deity. Some took it upon themselves to interpret differently, as the boy's mother was doing for the kingdom. He both understood this and was unbias about it. A community must recruit in different ways to stay afloat. They would risk inbreeding if they did not find others outside of their immediate family. It was a sin in itself, in Bran's eyes. Incest was disgusting and disturbing to him. The festival was a new thing to him, and he gave a thoughtful hum. It'd be good to prepare for it.

Though as a new member, he may withhold himself from feasting on the elk. That seemed a right to earn, not waltz into.

The boy also mentioned in his preaching that his black points may be uncertain to some. Edith had caused him to believe that his entire coat was, but it made no difference in the end. A new member was put through suspicion like any other, blessed or not. Bran always just assumed the color was a darker shade of his russet-brown before now. He was lost, the boy said. He could be found. That held some meaning in his otherwise deadpan golden eyes. "I had an inkling you were of the royalty, Prince Calhoun" he admitted freely "I have met Prince Warwick before, and am allied with Princess Edith" He inclined his head in formal respect of the boy's rank and blood "thank you for elaborating for me, however. I was not aware there was some aversion to ebony... It matters not to me" Beyond his control, to be frank. It would always be a personal sin, a reminder of his father's blood. The absentee man aside... "the whole of Elkshire has treated me well enough despite that."

No one had bothered to tell him. Nor make a remark. "You mentioned your father and another pack. I assume Elkshire is on good terms with them" There was no need to elaborate on that either if Calhoun was allowed to walk around in his mother's kingdom freely "do we have any communities that we are not on good standing with?"

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It came to no surprise that the man had questions. It was natural, just as he had his own throughout his upbringing and even today. To say he had all the answers would be wrong, but that did not mean he was not open to finding out together. “Good question.” This place...this home, was far different from the others his family had previously resided in, or so he was told. They had traveled here yet didn't. How his family arrived was unknown, only that they did, and through faith were guided to the Crown. “I usually play by personality. Most sinners are obvious from how they see the High Elk or how they practice the religion.”

Which in most cases would be not at all. “There are crafty ones, though. Sinners who know what they are and lie through their teeth to try and warp minds or pull others off His path. I usually reserve caution and admittedly assume the worst unless they show desire to improve.” There was no use wasting breath on someone who would only mock them in the end, but those who wished to put in the effort were worth his own. “In most cases, someone stripped entirely has no interest in fixing their path. They fall into paths of shame, hatred, mockery, sometimes all three, but white pelts are not lost forever. Fun fact, my family has been marred before. The story goes that shortly into our coexistence with the elk, there was a wolf who became greedy. He tried to take more than we were given and as a result, he was marked. The first of many to be stripped entirely of His blessing, and his actions would be passed to his kin for generations until they proved their dedication and earned back the High Elk's trust.

I can't say for certain what it looks like since it is mostly tales at this point, but it's believed that with each generation of improvement, less white appeared on the offspring's pelts until they were cleansed. How the offspring of a sinner are treated...depends on the individual.” Something he was still deciding where he stood personally as his own littermates had been tarnished whereas he had not been. It wasn't their fault, of course, and he knew how devout some of them were. They had only been dealt a lesser hand, and in the end, it made all the difference. “Some place the sins on the offspring as well, since it is their job to right the wrongs of their ancestors. Others are more forgiving, so long as the marked show their dedication. The High Elk has not seemed to have voiced an opinion on which is right, so perhaps he does not care.”

“The flaw with Elkshire is there seems to be little care in reforming those who carry sins. Too many are forgiving and if nothing is done then the pack will only be marked further until we all have strayed from His light. For that reason, I appreciate your interest. I can only hope it will inspire others before it is too late.” At some point, his gaze had wandered to the surrounding woods as he spoke, though hearing the other two that made the trio named drew back his stare. Ever since their return, they had crossed paths less, which was to be expected but disappointing that they hadn't had time to discuss the newcomers. “It's not mentioned much anymore. My mother places more importance on white, yet does nothing about it at the same time.” Frankly, he wasn't sure who of Elkshire actually believed in their deity. Perhaps that would be his next task... “As I said though, it's only caution for a pelt like yours. That doesn't make you any less if you follow His word. I am glad you have not been troubled.”

As for other questions...the standing between his mother and father was...interesting to say the least. He wasn't sure how that union had come to be, but he could only assume it was in hopes of a blessed litter. Vengeance had given him plenty of half siblings, so he likely held no grievances in coupling. “The Nightwalkers are our allies. They claim a forest north of here, maybe a day away if you are quick. Our only enemies have been traitors, but we have not seen or heard of them since their departure. I can only assume they were met by the High Elk for their crimes, whatever punishment he may have decided best for them.”

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Honestly, it was a lot to take in but he placed it within his mind as Calhoun explained. The words the boy spoke were opinionated but also sincere. Bran was thankful it was up to the individual to decide if anyone was worth saving, and he was not going to stick his neck out for a pale-coated individual anyway. It was not against their coat hue but because Bran did not trust others openly. Who knew what another's intentions were? If he put his neck on the line, that could reflect badly on him. He would spread the word of the High Elk to those interested, but he was no manic believer. He had nothing against those who carried stigmata. They had not done anything wrong to him personally, despite their unfavorable lack of coloring.

He would even treat those with favorable pelts the same.

He also felt it was a wolf's nature to hunt all prey, but it took a discerning eye to stop at the High Elk and His kin. Most wolves, brown or not, would hunt them. Bran assumed those that could withhold themselves were capable of receiving His light. Brown or white, they were to be specially selected. "I thank you for answering my questions, Prince Calhoun" he began after a soft think and pause "I've no other ones currently, though if I do, I will seek others out." He wondered why the boy seemed to regard his mother lowly; was it a difference of beliefs or something deeper? In the end, it was none of his business. He let it go. And while curious to know how Elkshire punished sinful beings...

He also did not want to know unless required of him.

Calhoun remarked on his father's pack, the Nightwalkers, and went on to explain they had no formal enemies. Bran hummed, nodding. It was easier to believe the High Elk punished them, but he had his misgivings about that. Why would a god personally punish them when He had apostles to do that for him? Even without them, it was easier to believe (skeptical and suspicious as he was) they were hiding. Biding their time. He'd have to step up patrolling then. "Then I will treat outsiders with some caution," he uttered "and not open hostility." It was easier, true, but there was no need to potentially break alliances or peace over his own personal annoyance at others. Bran was used to keeping his venom in check anyway.

"If there is nothing else I am strongly urged to learn quickly, we should return to our respective duties" Bran suggested "though it was nice to talk" He admitted this too "I hope we have time again." He lowered his head, giving a subtle bow.

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