Skill:

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Just outside of DB, all welcome!

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The air grew colder with each passing day. The snow would decorate the sky, dancing flakes cascading through the breeze in intricate patterns as the wind took hold. The prey would steadily grow scarcer, and the summer blossoms would quietly shrivel up. But that wasn't what worried him. It was the lingering ache of decay — he could feel it, the way it twined with the very roots of their world. Quieter now, but only slightly ... only slightly ... as it allowed the tender grip of winter to take hold.

This world was in pain.

But ... so was his stomach.
And it would remind him with a rough rumble.

A soft sigh escaped the boy's lips as he meandered, drawing himself just outside the border of the pack that currently housed his family. He would try his best to ignore the strangeness of Mythris for now, if only for a few moments, so that he could hunt. He wanted to fill his belly and perhaps bring home some leftovers for his mother and sisters.

And so he would wander, nose to the earth, filtering through the menagerie of scents to try to sort out where he could find a snack.

It wasn't often he wandered so far away from his mother, but perhaps now that he had grown in size, that meant his bravery would grow as well. After all, he couldn't be a mewling babe for the rest of his life, not when there was so much danger in the world. Hawthorn wanted to be more than that — to do more than that.

But that was for another day.

Today, he would start with a rabbit.

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The world was indeed changing, faster then N​ó​ttin would have liked. The plague was still out there, though seemed to be taking a break from terrorizing everyone to the full degree it had been. AT least that's how it seemed, and yet he couldn't help that something might be awaiting them all at the end of this. Something was lurking beneath the surface, and it was becoming almost too much to bare. The suspense was killing him, so he decided to take a little trip outside of the pack borders. The Pillar had taken a quick route around the borders, patrolling the areas just outside their territory. It would be a good idea at least for the long term, to keep an eye out for any more strangers that might come looking for Freya.

Instantly the thought of that half breed came to mind, that straggly looking creature that had the guts to come here. What if he made it back and told them what he had found? N​ó​ttin knew that something had to be done, but without further information of this pack, there wasn't much other then prepare for what might come knocking at their doorstep. The scent of one of Freya's children allowed him to become distracted. The sable wolf went walking in his direction, following the trail until he could see a dark figure in the distance.

A woof sounded from him in a friendly greeting, hoping that some company might not be deterred. What was the young lad up to? Perhaps still trying to figure out his place within his new home. It was certainly a lot to adjust to for the young family. That much was certain. But how much Freya and her children had been subjected to couldn't' be sure. N​ó​ttin decided to tread the possible topic with caution, but moving forward to greet him otherwise. Let's just see how far he can get in the beginning for starters.

Skill:

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The boy's nose was busy, the exhale of his breathing sending small whirls of snow up around the edges of his face. The cold stung his eyes, but there was something freeing about it. In a way, he felt he was like a snowflake, so gently tossed through life and landing in his new home with a spiral outside of his control.

After a few moments, his slender frame slowed, his pace stopping entirely as he allowed himself the grace to inhale... exhale ... inhale ...

And he would watch the snow flutter,
and glitter,
and dance.

And then he heard a wuff, and his frame instinctively and visibly stiffened. A shock was sent through his system, reverberating against his neurons as all the fur along his flanks lifted, his sympathetic system stimulated. A pair of eyes, dilated, would lift from their childish activity as the boy scanned the horizon, akin to the way a deer would. Like prey.

That was when he saw the vaguely familiar shape of the Dawnbreak leader — wasn't this the man who had offered them solace here? Maybe, just maybe, the larger male was out for a stroll. And Hawthorn would relax, if only slightly, offering a sheepish smile to the leader. The boy's tail would dip, wagging low between his ankles as he submissively flattened his ears in greeting. Oh, um, hello, he would chirp, uncertain of how else to interact.

He wasn't very good at this.

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The yearling looked fear stricken as he turned to face N​ó​ttin. The Pillar wouldn't allow him to sink any lower though, approaching with a soft smile and a friendly wag of his tail. Hello there. I'm sorry if I startled you. His voice was warm and inviting as he made his careful approach. You remind me so much of your mother, Freya. Hawthorne was it? I'm afraid I'm still getting used to all of your names, my apologies.

An awkward smile grew on his lips, hoping that the young lad wouldn't take any ill will towards him for such a thing. It was probably still very hard for Freya's kids to adjust here, especially after all they had been through. How are you fairing here? I hope the others of the pack have been kind. If not, he would have a very harsh speaking to with all of them. Such was the fellow soft hearted male, keen on being at least a good role model for the yearlings if they so allowed him. No one would harm them again, not on his watch.

Skill:

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Nóttin approached gently, a softness in his step and a gentility in the wag of that dark plume. Hawthorn would soften slightly, allowing his head to lift just a bit to look upward toward the larger male, half-grateful and half-chagrined. Oh, how embarrassing !

Oh, I'm okay, don't worry, the lad would start, licking his lips before he forgot his manners. Oh, no! He needed to be polite! Oh no! Hawthorn's teeth would grind. And with a blink, the boy would add: I mean, don't worry, uh ...sir? He had to be polite, right? This man had taken them in, after their months of wandering, lost from their home ... lost ... lost ...

Hawthorn tried with obvious intent to relax his frame.
And then Nóttin spoke of Freya — his mother.

The boy felt cold, just for a moment. He felt as free as a snowflake once more, jittery with a subtle excitement.  Yes, that's right. I am Hawthorn. With that, the boy would soften with a newfound naivety and endearment. There was a glimmer of warmth in those emerald eyes. You really know ... my mom? His tail quivered, bewildered. Enraptured, but trying to contain it.

He had to be subtle.

Nóttin would press a little further, a bit of protectiveness entering that rough voice that Harthorn did not quite comprehend. But the intensity of it was evident. And Hawnthorn should have been so enraptured.

But the boy just felt, if anything, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable again, diverting his juvenile gaze in misunderstanding. Oh, I don't ... talk to anyone ... It was genuine ... but soft ...

... and quickly, he added: Uh, sir.
The boy would look up with a soft, awkward grin.

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Hawthorn tried to be a brave young man, a little smile daring to show itself from his cautious and shy face. No need for formalities. It's quite alright. Just Nóttin is alright. A smile of his own grew wide, the larger male now approaching and standing nearly beside him. Talk of Freya caught the boy's attention, allowing an in so to speak for the Pillar to possibly gain some trust. Oh yes, we grew up together in a land far away from here. Long before we both came to Mythris. She was just as shy then as she is now, but still had that sweet demeanor to her. I saw it again when I found her during the tournament at Northfall.

He wondered just how much Freya had told her children, keeping that thought to himself as he continued to gain the boy's trust. Hawthorn continued to show his softer, less confident side. He really was like his mother. That's nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't for a long time either. I was nervous when I was much younger. I struggled a lot in certain situations. I see potential in you though, make no mistake. The world is your oyster. All you have to do is grab it. Nóttin hoped that his words reached the shy yearling, wanting nothing more then to see his confidence in himself grow.

Skill:

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Nóttin was soft in a way that Hawthorn was receptive to. There was a gentility and kindness behind the Northern man's tone that seemed to melt a bit of the boy's social anxiety. Still, Hawthorn wanted nothing more than to make a good impression — it was imperative that he remained in the good graces of the leaders of this pack. They'd done his family a favor, afterall, taking them in when their home had become compromised.

Though the details of that were ... fuzzy at best.

Alright si— he caught himself Nóttin! The correction was quick, his tail waving gently beneath him as he looked upward toward the older male with a respectful smile.

And when Nóttin began to speak of his mother, there was a warmth that crossed his features, the stories spinning, enticing him to listen with a respectful silence. Hawthorn ate it up, respectfully silent as Nóttin regaled the tales of his past. Hawthorn had had no idea that his mother had known so many wolves! It made sense, he supposed, but ... Wow, he'd comment, green eyes glittering a bit as he attempted to contain his newfound excitement.

Did you know my dad, too? There was a gentle innocence there, and he was in those moments just a naive, hopeful boy. A boy hoping to learn more about a lineage that was all but a blur and a series of rose-colored stories told by his mother.

You think ... I have potential? Bewilderment persisted behind those leafy-green eyes, and Hawnthorn would look sheepishly toward his paws. I was ... gonna hunt some lunch for ... for mom. He didn't look up yet, perhaps still a bit embarrassed to admit what he was doing out here. Would ... you wanna help me? For some reason, he felt comfortable.

From beneath his eyelashes, he'd peer up at the ebon-clad male.

Still just a hopeful boy.

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Hawthorn looked upon him with great wonder. A softness growing with more confidence as he regained himself. It was a clear show of whose child he was. The elder smiled upon him, his tail still waving back and forth for a moment longer. Yes, your mother is quite the jewel. One my dearest friends, she is like a sister to me. I'm glad that she was able to find her way here and bring all of you with her. She has told me a bit about you and your siblings, so I was excited to meet you. N​ó​ttin was now thinking of having kids again, now realizing just how much the prospect of being a father now pleased him. Hawthorn made him truly realize this in a matter of minutes. It was a breathtaking revelation.

A more uncomfortable question made its way from Hawthorn's lips, almost tempting a grimace from N​ó​ttin's face. But he kept it well under control to the best of his ability, hoping that the child did not see it. I do not know your father unfortunately. But your mother briefly mentioned him. She didn't say much in the grand scheme of things when it came to him. A truth that he was trying to hide from the boy for his own good. The Pillar didn't know how much Hawthorn knew of his father, nor did he know what possible abuses the children might have endured while they were with The Saints.


He cleared his mind though of the terrible thoughts, choosing to instead focus on what lied ahead of them: a future. Of course, Hawthorn. You can do anything you set your mind to. N​ó​ttin smiled brightly again, happy that he was able to light up this boy's world even for a short time. A hunt sounds like a good plan to me. I can help you find something good for her. Shall I lead the way? Or did you want a shot at tracking? Anything to support any talents the boy might possess. Anything for a hopeful boy before his elders.

Skill:

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Nóttin had only good things to say about his mother, which caused the teen to glow with a bit of pride and warmth. Of course Hawthorn knew just how precious his mother was, but there was something special about knowing that there were others who could see that, too. It was really kind of you to take us in ... the boy would tell him, voice a bit stronger but still soft with a sheepishness and lack of confidence.

I'd like to think he's kind, like her, he would add, perhaps a bit more under his breath as his green gaze diverted toward his busy paws. With an idle talon, he would trace circles in the snow, his tail slumping a bit behind his back. In Hawthorn's mind, that was the only option ... for he did not yet understand the truth behind his lineage.

And all Hawthorn could do was trust Freya.

And he did.
He trusted her implicitly.

I do hope the rest of my family can come here, too. Your home is really is beautiful. That emerald gaze would lift, a small smile pulling at the edges of his dark lips as he allowed himself to look at Nóttin once more.

After a few moments, the pair would begin to move, and Hawthorn would idly begin thinking of how to hunt in such a cold, unforgiving landscape. Afterall, he stood out like a sore thumb against the rolling, snowcapped tundra. His ebony coat did not really suit the Arctic. I'll try tracking ... he said with a bit of hesitation, putting his nose to the ground and closing his eyes for a brief moment.

OOC tracking roll = 7/20

All he could smell was the barest hints, something stale and nothing warm. The air was cold in his nose, stinging halfway up his snout as he inhaled a pathetic puff of the white flakes. Ugh, he mumbled, sniffing around a bit more as he felt the tendrils of embarrassment lick at his heels. He was going to make a fool of himself in front of Nóttin ... and he didn't need anything else for Belladonna to make fun of him for.

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There really was so much of Freya in him. It pleased him to know this, but the sheer fact that his father was the monster in the darkness bothered him. The Pillar did not know how to handle the information Freya had given him, and how to navigate it in a world where her children did not know the truth.

It is no trouble at all. You are family here, you belong. You are all welcome here for as long as you so wish it. You do not need to thank me. Just keep your mother and sister safe. N​ó​ttin gave a soft smile in return, joining the young male at his side. A silent nod was all that he could offer to Hawthorn, a gentle gesture of uncertainty but also putting on a brave face for him. Instead he decided to focus on the actual task at hand.

Hawthorn led the way, trying his paw at tracking. He stuck his nose to the cold earth, frozen tundra that seemingly stretched for miles on end. He too gave his own attempt at smelling, finding it hard to pick out anything as of yet. Do not worry, Hawhorn. It is later into the cold months. Sometimes the herds and smaller animals start to disperse farther in search of food. We can try elsewhere or at a later date. Do not get discouraged.

Sometimes it was just hard to pick up any food sources, the winter made things that much harder for the wolves of Dawnbreak, and of Mythris in general. What do you want to do? N​ó​ttin smiled still upon him, patient as he could be in a time like this. But in the back of his mind, he would do well to seek out the advice of others. Perhaps it was time to pay Vidarr a visit.