Artok moved about this new territory. The dawn broke along the cloudy sky. The warm rays glancing along the white of his pelt in mix matched stripes. And in broken intervals as the clouds shifted.

A tilt of ear forward. A golden gaze. Cut through the early light. He stretched the ruined muscles in his shoulder grimacing as he did so.

skill: herbalist

Ezra was on another hunt this day. No longer living in the tundra, he could not supply himself with an abundance of lichen, nor the berries or purple flowers he would soak in water in order to relieve his "pain". These same plants of pasque and monkshood were not this far south, he came to realize. However, with it being far less bitter cold for so long, he had a hope that while he might have to change up his supply, it might be available for far longer.

Though as one might have thought, it was not a hunt for herbs he sought today. Instead, he hunted down the trail of a new man in town (well there was many newbies with the merger and all). One older, one with a heavily defined limp, as himself. Ezra was curious. How well had this man survived with his ailment? How did he get it? What did he do to relieve it? Would Ezra too, one day look so worn and broken?

He had been creepily stalking the man without addressing him for days now until finally... How long have you been like this? Ezra spat out flatly as he drew nearer, a bloodied gaze studying the man's shoulder.

The young wolf had been following him, but hadn't approached. Artok was feeling generous, call it good will for being offered a space. But his patience was beginning to flag. He hated being stalked like an animal. It reminded him too much of Tuwawi. A blink as her name and face surfaced.

Artok turned lifted his lip slightly, showing a tooth.

Are you always this rude or am I just f***ing lucky?

Artok turned further towards the youth wariness, but also pride in his golden gaze. He may look broken, defeated, but he wasn't. He had persevered too long with too much. He kept his ruined side away from the youth and he waited.

skill: sadist

The grown man's patience had come to an end, whipping his skull around on the youth with a quivered lip and snappy remark.

I'm always this rude. He spoke flat, though a corner of his mouth turned up just in the slightest. His tail waving slowly behind him and his head lowered to level with his spine. Your not special.

After this, Ezra fell into silence. His stance made as though he was readying himself for the older wolf to snap again, perhaps this time with a bite. Yet Ezra's body nearly quivered with a want, ready for a mother fucker to give him a reason. Any reason.

Artok stared him down. Golden eyes bespoke of more years than his body carried. But he remembered he had been old once. Had already lived a lifetime. Even if it made no sense.

Artok smirked. Rude but honest.

Artok's eyes narrowed as he snorted. Little secret kid. No one is.

That was a bold faced lie. He remembered a she wolf red eyes kind heart. She'd been special. Lovely. But it was fleeting. Memory gone in seconds.


Who marked you? he motioned at the youths leg.

Depth laid in the man's gaze. While he was older then Ezra by years, he was by no means old. Yet the look - if Ezra could describe it, it reminded him of Journey. A woman who had said she had lived many lives and her wisdom of each had come along with her.

Ezra did not hold the same gaze. But he knew pain and he knew death. Far too much of it in his yearling life. More then anything now he just wanted to join those in Valhalla he had lost. But he couldn't die like a bitch. He needed to in battle. So until then...

I'd rather the truth, then the lie. They could both agree on that. Ezra lifts his head as the conversation turns. His weak foreleg shifting under him. I fell off a cliff as a child. And by the looks of it, a far less interesting story than his own damage.

Adlartok didn't know what he was plagued with memories of a time that was long gone. Or why he felt older than his years. But he did and he was and he couldn't explain it. And sometimes things just couldn't be explained. Why had his mother left him? Why had Tuwawi attacked him. All questions with no concrete answers.

Artok nodded his head. That sucks.

Artok shifted and turned. A truth for a truth I guess. A she wolf attacked me when I was not much older than oh about 6 months old. Decided she hated the fact I wasn't her child and permanently maimed me.

skill: herbalist

Ezra grunts at the man's first short sentence. His shoulders doing a bit of a roll as he lifted on his front toes to give a sort of 'shrug'. Best a wolf could, at least.

So his story was a bit better then 'I got fucked up by my own home mountain'. He had been in a fight. Well, probably not much of one, given his age at the time against a full grown adult.

That sucks. He parrot back. Ezra didnt ask, but assumed the man was a basterd child. Maybe a woman scorned from a cheated mate. Freya had promised to kill all Ragnar's latest litter not by her, too. Whatever happen to Frode anyway? Maybe she did end up getting one of them.

You know much about herbs then, for the pain? Ezra didn't like asking for help, but his addiction for things that would just make everything go away drove him. He didnt know the plants down here like he did in the tundra.