skill: hunter

The Blood Moon had passed in the new week, Dalmatia found herself staying awake late into Sunday night, until dawn breached into Monday morning. It was then that she could rest, then that she could finally let tears of relief flow.

In the coming weeks, Dal would ready herself. It would not be long before she and N​ó​ttin announced their engagement to the whole of Dawnbreak. And she was fidgety, finding ways to distract herself like trailing the rocky path down Frostvang Vale's protective mountains and into the wilds beneath, where she would find plentiful berry bushes among the raging river. It wasn't like there weren't many of them up in the arid, frosty mountainside, but a varying array here that would allow her the benefit of multiple ones, each different enough to provide distinct vitamins. Or at least, Dal hoped so, to justify her coming all the way down here.

Nonetheless, the spotted dove found herself trailing the river, her imperfections of soot-stained spots covered by the elk's pelt she held so close and dear. Around her homeland, she'd learned to shed the pelt, but outside of her home... Well, she needed some sort of security. And what was better than the shell she used to hide in?

Rensley

skill: ghost

---

The dog of Rensley had never seen such an animal before. It kept to the shade at the edge of the riverbank, crouched low beneath snowy foliage. It could no longer phase through the objects, it had learned - it thought it might still have a few sticks stuck throughout its pelt from the attempt.

Not far off, it watched the creature as it walked. At first it had believed it to be a small deer, but then realized it was only wearing the skin of it. The humans did that sometimes - wore fur or pelts, but never had they walked on four legs.

Squinting, the dog peered closer, and realized in mild alarm that it was another canine. Speckled and mostly hidden beneath elk pelt, but canine all the same. How could this be?

Curious but wary, the dog stared, golden eyes round in the shadows.

skill: hunter

The spotted dove moved along the river, blindly, not knowing that she was being followed. For the most part, she was concerned with the problem on her mind: how did she present a whole engagement to their pack? Would her sisters fully approve of her fiancé? Of course, Nóttin was one of the main heads of the pack, but... She valued the opinions of her sisters a whole lot and wanted this to be a peaceful and cheerful event in the midst of such uncertainty.

Fall was starting to loosen the trees of their leaves, shedding them into the river, in which they easily littered and stopped up small pools of water, where fish gathered awaiting swarming bugs to land. The cycle of life was so interesting, and sometimes Dal got caught up in watching it. As she had the bird nest outside her den, watching the hatchlings grow into full-fledged adults that could fly and rid the nearby area of mice, saving her herbs from the little thieves. As the water swirls, leaves are cast along with no real destination; the reflection of red-tipped leaves made her glance upward.

Dal tipped her head back, dropping the hooded pelt to allow her spotted head to rid the shadow cast upon her eyes, now being able to fully set her sights upon the orange-tinted berry, growing out of the little leaves. Her eyebrows raise, curiosity evident, My, what are you little things? She questioned, as she nudged the stalks, branchless, the berries growing almost like the raspberry ones she'd collected in the Vale.

It watched as the canine moved, though it did not seem to be hunting or searching for something to maul. The dog could bite, if needed, but it hoped very much to avoid such an altercation. So it did as it always had, and watched as the beast drew closer.

The canine moved and the covering fell from its head, and it spoke in a distinctly feminine voice, in words the dog understood, at least a little.

Moving a bit closer was a mistake, for it was accustomed to the silence of an incorporeal body. A paw hit a nearby branch and it crunched, and the dog of Rensley froze like the snow surrounding it. An unfamiliar sensation of a heart hammered deep behind the cage of its new ribs.

skill: hunter

With the small nudge to the stalk, Dal inhaled the scent of what really did remind her of raspberries, and notes of apple, very flowery. Around the patch, there had been obvious picking at the berries, most of them nibbled away or stolen, but it was a sign that they were more than likely safe to eat. And with great care, she started to pick one by one, placing the small fruits in a makeshift pouch, using a small pelt to wrap them, and then carrying it along her way.

A minute or two went by without interruption, but it was not to last. In the midst of her sorting through the good and bad ones (ones that had been rotten or nibbled at), there is a crackle of a branch behind her. Dal midpick, a berry in her mouth, snapped her head towards the sound and, in surprise, bit down. It wasn't a bitter taste, no, it was very sweet actually, just a hint of tartness at the end.

With raised eyebrows, the spotted woman found the stranger. A lanky form against the rocky and snowy area, their fur almost blending into the dark, yet an ombre fade swept up the chest and rounded their ears, outlining them. Oh! Hello there. I didn't realize someone else was out here. She shifted, now turned towards the other. Even from a little way away, Dal can spot the scrawny form they sported, knowing too well how the body curved tight around ribs when unfed, and she wonders how long it'd been since the poor thing ate.

Are you from Avon or Northfall? She asked, a small tilt of her head, even though she most likely knew the answer, but didn't want to scare them off.

It had, unsurprisingly, but somehow still surprisingly for it, been spotted. The dog cowered, unused to being perceived in any way, and its eyes darted about for any way out of the situation at hand. But it could not phase through the trees or disappear into thin air, and there was nowhere it could feasibly escape to unseen. Perhaps if it...

And then the canine spoke, and the fears were quelled.

No hostility, snarling or fangs flashing. Only a polite greeting and a question, and one that the dog did not know if it could answer.

It croaked in response, the sound of a voice never used, and instead of speaking simply shook its head. It did not know what an Avon or a Northfall was, but they were foreign words to the creature. It was from Rensley, but it could not tell her that.

skill: heartbroken

Dal waited patiently as the question was prompted; only silence filled the air. Her eyes were examining as much as they could from this distance. But she feared that if she stepped any closer, the wolf might run off. The berry that had tasted so sweet in her mouth now felt more sour on her tongue, knowing that it could be put to better use.

The spotted dove's chin wobbled, just about to offer some of the berries she'd previously picked, but a noise finally came from the other; a raspy wheeze, tone rusted from ages of being put out of use. The sound makes Dal flinch, but not because it makes her feel afraid. No, it reminded her of a time ages ago when she, too, mirrored this poor creature. Nothing but skin and bones, words stuck in her chest because they could never quite rise through her throat. She wondered how long they'd been like this — seven or eight months like she had? Or even longer?

They shook their head, 'no,' indicating that they were not from either place. I see... You are alone then? Without a pack, surely, but maybe... Was there someone around here that they clung to? Or... who clung to them? A wave of anxiety ran through her, wondering if they were trapped like Freya once had been. Perwinkle eyes flicker across the underbrush that they had once emerged from, but then back to them. Then, her anxiety fled from her, as if it weren't there at all, tunnel vision on them.

You must be hungry. I was picking some berries for breakfast, and I definitely don't think I can haul them all back. She hummed, her eyes not leaving the other as she swiftly moved her paw, spilling the small pouch of berries open and pushing the evidence of the pouch away under one of the bushes. If they decided to come over, maybe it'd look like she really couldn't carry them back, that she had no way to.