The sun hadn't yet crested the now-looming peaks of the Frostfang as the Mediator made her way down the mountainside. The sunlight did filter past the Vale's cradle of unforgiving slate, casting the snow in tones of rosy dawn that sparkled in the cool of the morning air as the Black Sun set her paw across foreign borders. She did so without apprehension; even though she was on high alert, she made sure not to show it. The woman's gait was the same surefooted tigress' prowl she had honed since her youth, a byproduct of her lean, muscled frame and the treacherous terrain she considered home.

The Vale had a valley settled within it, but the sheer elevation and jutting peaks that surrounded it made the terrain more dangerous, the land there forested with snow-clad pines almost exclusively. Here, the meadows sprawled out in open expanses covered in thick, unbroken blankets of snow. Deciduous trees mingled with the pines in the dappled groves that trees did grow, and under the snow Solulfur was sure a springtime explosion of color and life was preparing for its debut.

She knew she could have called at the borders, but she was curious about their neighbors and no small amount of suspicious. Solulfur had been raised isolated atop the Jawbone, and she was not taught to be cruel to outsiders, but she was taught that the mountain's resources were to be respected, honored, and guarded for the good of those she called her Isblod. The only outside pack she'd come across before Mythris was the one who'd come to her home on the warpath. Even now, having found not just tentative allies but potential friendships amongst other packs, Solulfur struggled to feel fully comfortable when on another pack's lands, and she guarded her own borders watchfully.

There was a part of her that was, it seemed, always going to be waiting for another war to find and shatter everything she'd built for herself. Solulfur told herself she had no reason to feel so anxious about Avon's close ties to Dawnbreak - she even approved of the decision to raise the Shakti-Vaes children close to their blood, close to the land that was their heritage. And yet, the anxiety did not alleviate itself; the urge to patrol her borders instead of steal sleep when she could persisted.

The Sun-wolf came with her hackles lowered, her mind open; her time with Aurelia, Tiberii, and Solvi had taught her many things and she practiced them now. She knew she could have called at the borders for an Avon wolf willing to escort her, but Solulfur chose not to. She was interested to see who she would encounter first, what their reaction would be - a test, of course, for the Black Sun was as scheming as her mother had taught her to be. In her jaws, she carried a snowshoe hare, velvet and pure white pelt brushing against her nose as she walked. A gift of goodwill, of course. Solulfur would not risk the alliance between the packs, and she intended for this expedition to assuage her irrational, gnawing fears...and help to strengthen and clarify the bond between the packs.

It was her duty, after all, and she still had her eyes set on the Second-class position amongst the Pillar of Wisdom. This, if it went well, was a good step in that direction.

The Dawnbreaker plodded further into the territory, tail waving even with her hips. She was familiar with Fable, and so sought out that scent-trail to follow, eager to greet a familiar and friendly face - although she was mostly taking her time, learning the territory and the scents and wolf-trails zig-zagging through the snow.

---

OPEN for any Avon members! Come say hi :D

Solulfur didn't catch the scent of the Matriarch right away - her nose was filled with the scent of rabbit, death and the mingled scents of Avon faint beneath the tang of blood. She was enjoying her morning walk, though; Avon's land even in winter was beautiful, and an interesting change of pace from the peaks of Solulfur's home base. The fra Nordri had a fierce and personal affection for the Frostfang's alpine forests, crisp snowmelt pools, and challenging stone and ice peaks; but this meadow held a more quiet peace to it, without being the almost unpleasantly open moors to the east.

Something as blush-toned as the dawn sparkling across the snow and lining the tree-trunks began to approach in the distance, and the fra Nordri's keen eye caught it. She was enjoying her walk, but no part of her mind would allow her to forget for a moment that she was amongst foreigner's territory, and that she must remain on alert.

Sol wondered, briefly, when the tumultuous events of her youth would finally cease their hold over her soul, before putting those thoughts out of her mind. It was Fable who'd found her first, it seemed. Solulfur wondered if it was by chance, or if the wolves using the loose borders that marked the space between Avon and Dawnbreak were being more closely monitored than she'd expected. Sol couldn't ask that outright, though, so she put a pin in it and turned her full attention toward the tall, wavy-furred woman. Solulfur dropped the hare at her paws and swished her tail amicably, promptly being struck in the face with a springtime melody of citrus, floral scents that belonged to Avon's leader. One of them, anyway.

It is, indeed. Solulfur replied smoothly. Her memories of Fable were few - a hazy blur of a large, honey-and-lavender smelling whirlwind of drunkenness loudly embracing the Shakti-Vaes sisters at a festival remained, although any clear memories had been blurred by the immediate efforts of Solulfur to give herself alcohol poisoning, or at least the worst hangover she'd ever had - blissfully unaware of the after-effects of such things, and also unaware of her own tolerance or lack thereof.

Are you on a morning patrol, Fable? I would be happy to join you, if you wanted company. Solulfur tilted her head slightly, tapping into that well of charisma she knew she had, but often failed to utilize.

Ominous, intense focus had gotten her further for the most part, but she had seen the effectiveness of her mother's sly mind and silver tongue on many occasions.

Of sorts, Fable replied, indicating a far-off fawn-spotted whelp blazing a trail through the snow-covered meadow. Solulfur huffed out a soft chuckle before she could school her reactions. Pawing at the snow, she swiftly and shallowly buried the rabbit carcass for the next hungry Avon wolf to sniff out and help themselves to, nodding to Fable to lead the way.

She remembered her own parents, aunts, uncle often hovering nearby while Solulfur herself explored the world. They'd never been far, and she'd never queried once in those earliest days that she was surrounded by an unstoppable, if sometimes invisible, shield from any danger or discomfort that might befall her. One only had to look at Sigrid, draconic in her bearing and loyalty, to know that she was wholly safe. Now, a long-forgotten concept Solulfur had only reclaimed the most fragile scraps of. She nodded solemnly to Fable's explanation of what she was doing. Solulfur would help keep watch, so the child could find her footing in the comforting knowledge of her safety, ensured by those stronger than she. May they never have to walk alone, at all. She offered, not unkindly.

Fable began to walk, and Solulfur only had to take a few strides to fall into easy step with the older woman. Her mission remained at the forefront of her mind, but she had already relaxed more than perhaps expected, finding Fable familiar and unobtrusive presence easy enough to relax in, if only a little.

How did things fare in the Vale? Such recent loss, such recent turmoil. Solulfur did not wish to betray the depths of their recent tragedy to a foreign pack's leader. She delivered her report crisply, but with a slight charismatic lilt to take the edge off. The Vale is as strong as ever. We have had a recent promotion, and new additions to our ranks. Winter is as testing as ever, but the mountain provides. The Black Sun paused, and made a perhaps-visible effort to soften, slightly. Taking on the mantle of friend, and slightly setting aside the one of diplomat. Your kin would be glad to see you, and your children, I think. It was only a guess, of course. Solulfur still wasn't sure what the intricacies of that bond between the various facets of the family actually were. But she knew that beneath the hurt incurred between their members, and the distance time and alliances had afforded, at least the four sisters Solulfur knew had large hearts beneath whatever veneer they chose to wear. For Tiberii, it was burning ferocity. For Aurelia, stone-skin. For Dalmatia, she seemed to mask her softness behind hermitude. Euphemia remained the most difficult to get a read on, but seemed kind.

They had all experienced devastating loss. The sight of their kin, the opportunity to connect and share their burdens - perhaps it would do them well, and so Solulfur, ever the meddler, smugly planted the seed of that idea into their conversation.

Tell me of your Meadows - I hope they treat you and yours as well as our peaks.