The Ambassador asked of his name, explaining about a woman within her ranks. He took this in, and though it wasn't the most pressing matter, he obliged an answer with a polite smile. We do not have a word for it, in my home, but archaic names are passed through my lineage. Pyralis founded us, Odyssey made us great... and amongst others, there is me. He decided against voicing the names of the tyrant queen who destroyed their reputation, or his mother who aimed to mend it. Vehemens recalled the woman Journey had mentioned, and thought of a man he had heard of before. One cloaked in garnet, with a cape and shining helmet capped with bright red fur. The Red Warrior, he was called, one of the queen's strongest acolytes. This, Vehemens knew from the stories told by the rebel leaders.

Journey's next words had his ears upright, and an unsettling pit weighing heavy in his core. His brow was knit with consternation as he tried to figure it out, it making no sense how he could have awakened here when he had not been asleep, and knew very well that he had used his own four legs to get to the very spot he was sitting.

Magic.

It was whispered of, sometimes, in his home. Something mysterious that would shift through the world like a gust of wind, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared. He hadn't quite believed it himself, assuming most tales were made to keep the little ones from wandering off at night. But what other explanation did he have, that was any better than the one Journey gave him? How else could he justify what happened, from impending war to a clear alpine day in the matter of a few strides? For two wolves, Evergreen and him, arriving here and being unsure how? The elder spoke now, sounding far calmer than Vehemens felt internally. What she prioritized truly perplexed the young man - though he wouldn't allow it to show on his face - and as much as he wished to focus on their current problems, he didn't dare interrupt the older woman. Instead he waited, shoulders stiff, for her to finish. Her words worked well to sober him and his patience, for he was all too familiar with the concern of spies, of protecting one's home. Though he came with no ulterior intent, and he suspected the Ambassador to know that, the elder's meaning rang clear. Staying quiet, Vehemens regarded Journey then with subtle curiosity. Northfall must be a strong community, he assumed, to share about it so freely without concern.

To his relief, the topic returned to their predicament, and this world. A world which was not his own. Evergreen asked the question that had been burning in the back of his mind. Yes- He chimed in at last, I did not come here through tunnel or sleeping. Vehemens paused, considering how much he should share here. Explaining how he arrived may provide clearer answers, he decided. I was leading the charge into a battle, through smoke and ash, when I lost sight and sound of my comrades and the smoke cleared from the forest. Briefly, the man pointed his muzzle to the firs lining the river. His gaze settled back on Journey, his focus narrowly concealing tempered desperation. It is imperative that I return. She had been helpful, and it was a subtle plea that she have yet more answers. He didn't dare consider, yet, that there wasn't a way to return.