Skill:

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Lugh
Near the Northern border of Blushed Meadows!

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The world was changing, and so was Rune.

It was not an uncommon occurrence for the fra Stjernene to seek adventure and novelty, and Rune was no different. Her family had drifted to and from the island, some coming back, and others ... well, others were lost, if only for a temporary time. And Rune believed that — she believed that loss and death were only temporary. Even in her young age, she seemed to understand that certain beings needed to ... leave.

Her mother, for example.

A goddess reclaimed.

But that had left many of them without direction and purpose, and perhaps that was part of the reason Rune searched. For what, she did not know. Perhaps it was just her teenage age and her penchant for mischief. But she could tell herself it was for something more profound, couldn't she?

The lanky teen pushed forward, having been traveling South for a few days on her own now. Her stomach ached from hunger, and while her mind sought to chase the mysteries of the higher plane, her physical body coiled and curled against itself ... telling her ...

... she needed to eat.

The girl would sigh, lifting her head and flaring her nostrils in the breeze as she sorted gently through the scents. If she focused hard enough, perhaps she could find a rabbit ... or maybe something of higher value, if she was lucky.

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Skill: Ranger [1/5]

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With every passing day, Lugh grew bolder—particularly after the discovery he and Shiloh had made of a rune within the meadows. Deep inside, he craved that thrill; even the pain of razor-sharp rain was worth it if it meant he could chase that snowbank once more.

It wasn't his first time stepping past the pack's borders, nor would it be his last—it was, however, his first time this far north. The lush meadows faded into frost-laden woodlands. For a moment, he paused. It was almost intimidating how the trees cast deep, dark shadows on the ground. Only now did he realize just how familiar he'd gotten with vast fields.

He could've sworn he heard something in the branches up ahead. A shudder ran down his spine—gods, he wasn't a little baby anymore. It was just some trees—how scary could it be!? An angered huff left Lugh's lungs as he stubbornly pressed on. He could easily turn and go home. That'd be far more comforting—but he wouldn't abandon this crusade for the sake of irrational fears. It was a battle against his instincts and his spite—he would not let his fear win.

The fiery boy emerged from the underbrush and paused. There stood a girl—taller than he, with fur an odd mix of nightfallen blue and warm browns. So he wasn't just hearing things. His lips thinned awkwardly, and he took a short step back.

Hey, wh... he paused, not exactly sure what to say. What're ye doin' here? He cleared his throat, glancing around the woods. He couldn't see anybody else... he couldn't smell anyone else, either. Was she alone? Who're you?

He cleared his throat, remembering something about manners—something Fable had said about making others feel welcome. I-I'm just askin' 'cause my pack is just south o' here. I'm not tryin' t'make ye feel unwelcome or anythin', promise. He stammered, glancing back at the treeline. Hell, he should've just gone home when he could.

Skill:

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As she searched, she smelled nothing of prey nearby ... just the stale scent of some rabbits that had flittered through the meadow earlier that day. The Nordic woman would blink slowly, ears flicking slightly, before she steeled herself with determination. Food would come to her, she was certain; she just needed to be patient enough. Besides, perhaps if there was no food, that meant there was something — or someone — else in this field for her to find, instead.

Sooner than she would realize.

The rustle of the undergrowth caused her head to swivel, her larger body turning to square toward his. Despite her size, there was a delicate softness in the way she carried herself, and there was certainly no intent at intimidation of the other. Her lips smoothed into a smile as she cupped her ears toward the fire-coated youth. She could sense something on him — trepidation, perhaps? Or was it caution?

He would ask her a few questions, building upon his query with each new flow of thoughts and words.

Rune blinked.

She was accustomed to the more stoic mannerisms of the Northern wolves, not the soft, floral accents that would wrap around such simple questions. Rune would take a slow step closer (mirroring his step back), nostrils flaring as she inhaled the scents that lingered on his skin. The movement was a bit forward, perhaps, but there was no malice in her actions — simply curiosity. Her faðir had told her the wolves to the South were ... friends.

She would lift her head back and smile. Heil vinr (Hello friend). My name is Rune, from Skjǫldrheim. Her dual-toned eyes would roam over him, admiring the color of his coat. She was also far more accustomed to the cooler blues and grays of her family. My faðir visited here earlier this year. I wanted to see it, too, she admitted, waving her tail behind her as she smiled wider.

Who're you? she would mirror him softly, a bit of play lacing into her voice. And then she paused a moment, contemplating. I do not feel unwelcome. Should I?

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Skill: Ranger [2/5]

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He reared back, yet she pressed forward—a subtle action, yet he did not miss it. His eyes flickered down to the taller girl's paws for a split second before he looked up once again. ' Skjǫldrheim...' Where had he heard that name...? A small scowl dipped into his features for a heartbeat in contemplation—

Ah, of course!!! Beltane!

'I do not feel unwelcome. Should I?' The boy winced. No, no, not at all! Please, anyone...uhh, everyone is welcome here. Lugh quickly rambled. I—err... yeah. I met some o' ye packmates. Lively bunch. His words were deliberately vague—he hadn't exactly enjoyed meeting Sverke. Still, this one seemed quite a bit different. The other northerner had not greeted them with a smile, nor any simple introduction. It felt far more... cynical. I... my name's Lugh, he paused, tongue awkwardly slipping over his lips. I'm a part o' Avon. Nobody really important, though. Not yet, anyway.

I was just... lookin' around th' borders to see if anyone was around. He laughed quietly. Todays th' first time I've ever actually found someone out here, though. He turned back towards his territory and beckoned her in with a small whisk of his tail. There's not really much t'do here now that th' festival's finished, but I can show ye 'round anyway, if ye want.

That was perhaps the one thing he could do for her, at least—all that Lugh could hunt were the little vermin who scuffled about the forest floor, nothing grand nor worthy of being given the title of a 'gift'. The sharp hooves on deer were still scary, even if he'd grown durable enough to withstand their kicks. I hope tha's good enough? He asked with a small curl of his lips.

Skill:

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The teenager was patient, ultimately deciding against pointing out the pained expression of her new companion. She was, admittedly, a bit confused as to how everyone could be welcome, but she was more interested in the mannerisms of the Southern boy. Everyone? she'd settle upon, repeating the word with a small tilt of her head. Even illgjarn dýrs (evil beasts)? A brow would raise, but she hoped it was clear she was still kidding. Though she supposed it was hard to sound 'kidding' with a Nordic inflection.

Lugh, from Avon, she would summarize quickly, flicking her ears forward. "Nobody really important, though," he'd conclude, and she would tilt her head a bit. Rune was far more accustomed to wolves with ... what was it? Higher self-esteem? Perhaps a self-worth that spanned many lifetimes and eons? You met my family then, she'd continue with a little laugh, perhaps starting to feel a bit of pity for the younger boy if he'd happened to run into her more bull-headed brothers. Lively is one way to describe them.

Lugh would act on his offer of being welcoming, finally inviting Rune in for a bit of a tour. She'd smile again, a flash of white teeth. Ja. Of course it is good enough, she'd agree merrily, taking up stride to follow the smaller lad. As they walked, her gaze would spread across the deep, ruby field. It was far more colorful than much she'd seen further North. She wondered what these flowers were used for. She wondered where they stored their food and where they denned.

After a few strides, she'd begin to float a bit further away from her tour guide, stopping to lower her nose into a patch of ichor-hued florals. She would inhale the sweet scent before lifting her head back upward. Idly, she'd pass her paw over the blooms, speaking toward the flowers but addressing Lugh from a distance.

You say you're not important, but do you wish to be? There was no malice or mockery in her words, only curiosity. Rune wondered what was so good about it — being important. It seemed to often lead to trouble ... and ... disappearance. Like her siblings. Like her mother. And her cousins, too.

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Rune Discovery:  「 Failure 」

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Patience is a virtue often carried in the winds of frustration. Yet it is not these two, through the eyes of Mythris, that fall prey to the disappointment that the world had expected. Their amicable conversation carried softened voices through the trees, bolstered by the wind, as it rushed past their sides in an attempt to listen deeper.

Their talk of warm greetings and importance, two beings so different and worlds apart, had been enough to hold the poison the world wrought at bay.

There is no dream visitor to guide their exploratory paws in a direction they seek, yet neither is there the force of hunger devouring their heels in which they thread.

The world is silent, kept afloat by the stories and words they share from one ear to the next.

It is not a rune they will find, but maybe their conversation will become a far more valuable tool than any glowing stone could offer them.