the sea does not forget.
even after two weeks, its scent still clung to her like a bruise beneath the skin—salt and rot, blood and silt. silatuyok walked the northern ridges with her hip stiff, half-healed, the fur stripped in a ragged crescent that had not grown back. pain was not new. but shame? shame was a fresh thing, sore in the chest, like she’d swallowed a jagged rock and left it to sit behind her heart.
wind brushed her pale cheek and she did not flinch. she moved with caution now— no longer the gull who swept low to taste the foam, but the kestrel, still and sharp-eyed. every sound in the grass made her ears twist. every scent made her throat tighten. she did not trust the valley, nor her place in it.
and yet she stayed. because she had not died. and because surviving was a language her bones had always spoken.
beneath the dappled light of spruce branches, silatuyok lowered herself near the cold stream, gingerly, weight shifting off her hip. she breathed in. and again. one paw reached forward, testing the water. she wanted to cleanse, wanted to forget, but the memory lived under her skin.

Skill: Ranger[1/5]

---

The day was young. Lugh had only just left the burrow with his mother—fur still plastered to his lithe, growing frame, tussled by sleep. The boy chuffed quietly, turning his head to lap his tongue over his pelt to wrestle his coat back into a presentable state.

Whatever grogginess weighed down upon his eyelids was lifted the moment he felt the crisp air; it was approaching summer, yet the north was never truly hot. The dawns were still frigid, only accentuated by the coolness of the dew that clung to the grass.

It was a normal day. Clouds hung in the sky, leaving the lush colors of Avon's meadows dreary and muted. A warm exhalation left Lugh's dark lips, curling in the brisk air. Everything was quiet. Annoyingly quiet. Uninteresting.

Quiet, maybe, but there were still scents that permeated through the air—that was interesting enough...at least, for now.

The fiery red boy pranced over the grass, nose twitching like a rabbit's. He'd grown used to the smells of the forest. The critters who rustled about in the forest, occasionally, the larger prey who would saunter past quietly. Lugh's jaws itched with the desire to chase—to track them down and catch them himself...

He was certainly not old enough for that yet. His legs were still thin, lacking muscle. His jaws had yet to harbor the strength to latch onto the hefty limb of an ungulate.

Lugh settled to meander along the treeline. The sun was rising in the east. It'd be more visible, then, perhaps he could hunt something smaller—

That was when the scent finally reached his senses; something unfamiliar. Something unknown. Someone unknown.

A stranger.

The boy's ears flicked forward, angled over his slim visage. Who on earth would be so brave to wander into a pack's territory?

He followed the scent, body low, withers jutting from his long spine. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

A body of white bedecked with an overcoat of browns and blacks like a frost-laden forest. Lugh halted, his tail held high. H-halt. He barked. ...who are ye?

Lugh's lips pursed. Perhaps... not as eloquently spoken as his siblings would've done it—yet, it was seemingly the best that would come from a young boy like him. You're in th' land that belongs t'Avon. His stance was confident yet wary, growing musculature tense beneath the cloak of fire-red fur.

silatuyok had been still for some time, her breath quiet beneath the hush of wind. the meadow, though foreign, was kind beneath her worn paws— its soft grass bent but did not break, its scent clung like warmth to her fur. she had wandered far, seeking no den, no claim— only quiet. only peace.
when the boy approached, his voice did not startle her. it trembled, yes, but not out of fear. it was a tremor of duty, of youth learning what it meant to stand tall. her ears turned toward him, but she did not rise. she remained where she was—curled like snowdrift against the green, a slope of pale fur streaked with the earth’s own hues.
his tail flagged. his voice cracked. he bore his flame like it would keep him safe.
silatuyok’s eyes, pale and soft as misted dawn, found his.
you are brave, she said, her words thick with accent, the common tongue like river stones in her mouth.
she shifted only to lower her head in deference, the old way— chin to chest, a gesture of peace between strangers.
i do not come to take. a pause, as her nose lifted to taste the wind, only to pass. to look. to remember.
her voice grew quiet, gentle like wind through cedar trees. i am silatuyok. plains-walker. i is no enemy to avon.

Skill: —[1/5]

---

Nobility in his eyes, he continued to stare—yet, the domineering front could only remain for so long.

'You are brave,' Lugh's tail swept once. No one had ever called him that before—in fact, usually, it was quite the opposite. He was shy. Skittish. Only a few weeks ago, he'd be hiding behind Ma's legs.

...when did that change?

'I do not come to take.' The stranger's words snapped him out of his reverie, his ears perked at her words. 'Only to pass. To look. To remember.' Remember? Remember what? He chirped up, head tilting to the side, scowling in confusion.

'I am Silatuyok. Plains-walker. I is no enemy to Avon.' Silatuyok. Silatuyok. The name was a mouthful. Lugh canted his head back upright before he spoke once again. S-Si... Silatuyok, he parroted, tongue twisting in odd angles that it never had before.

Have ye been here before? For a few fleeting moments, he paused; he always had the habit of asking questions with far too little context. The boy released a pensive breath before speaking up again. This... world, I mean. Not here here.

It was an question simple enough; an action to confirm—was this woman like him? Like his Ma? With a home and a life before this strange world, Mythris.

no, she said quietly, voice edged with a rasp from salt wind and pain. not from here. not from... her gaze drifted—not to him, but beyond him, to the slope of the hills that reminded her too much of a home that would never be safe again. her side still ached where the man had grabbed her, tore fur from her hip like it was nothing. she had walked inland after that, mouth full of copper, silence in her lungs.
i come from plains, she added, after a long moment.
she didn’t smile. not because she wasn’t kind, but because smiles were something she’d learned to keep guarded, folded away like medicine. silatuyok, she told him, slower now, so he could try again without shame. you said it good.
the boy reminded her of her brother when he was small— full of too many questions and too much heart. i walk alone now. but i look. to learn. to remember who i was before. her voice trailed, and her eyes dropped to the ground, as if it might answer what she could not.
then, quieter, more to herself: the sea took something from me. the man did too. but i am not done walking.

Skill: Counselor[2/5]

---

'No, not from here. Not from...' Lugh patiently waited for the woman to complete her sentence—yet, she never did. 'I come from plains.' The hesitence; it was ever familiar. Lugh's head tilted. You're like me and my Ma, he noted, an observation spoken mainly to himself. We're not from here, either. We just... he swallowed. ...woke up here.

The stiff tail, waving like a banner, lowered down his hocks with ease that was not present before. A sense of vulnerability that he matched as she showed her own anguish. 'I walk alone now. But I look. To learn. To remember who I was before.' Lugh's gaze lowered. To forget oneself—it was a fate far worse than what he faced. Have not only your home, familiarity, ousted from your hold, but to forgotten what should be familiar. 'The sea took something from me. The man did too. But I am not done walking.' Empathy blossomed over his face.

Lugh shuffled on his paws. He wanted to say something... yet, he didn't know what. And so, the words tumbled out of his lips before he could stop them. Ye don't have t'be alone, he paused. What was he trying to say? I-I mean... He turned, looking toward the meadow's horizon. I don't think Fabs would mind... if you stayed. At least for just a little bit. His tail swept to and fro at his feet. Apprehensive, hopeful, only slightly bashful.

The meadows we've claimed—they're not as big as some o' the plains I've seen, he continued, but they're not nothin'. I can show you around, if ye want. Shyly, the boy grinned.

sorry for length :sob: we can start another if youd like

---

silatuyok blinked, her lashes weighted with fatigue. for a long moment, she said nothing—only looked at the boy, truly looked, until her chest softened with something akin to gratitude.
then maybe… i stay, she murmured at last, voice low and edged with sand. only for a little while. to rest. her eyes drifted toward the meadow’s line, where the land opened like a bowl waiting to be filled. your meadows have good bones. kind wind.
a pause, brief, and then: show me.

Skill: Blabbermouth [3/5]

---

It was as though her agreement finally flipped off the initial timidity. The boy bounced with a wag of his tail. Great! He chirped, trotting forward towards the treeline. We can't go near the dens. There are babies there, one of the moms is really protective of 'em. He veered slightly to the left, away from the burrows. And this little section of the woods has a ton of mice and some hares, he continued his tirade as he walked.

He turned his head to look at Silatuyok. A look of feigned stoicism, mimicking his diplomatic sister, was strewn over his face—alas, it did little to conceal the sheer excitement that glimmered in his two-toned eyes. There's lotsa deer, too—but I dunno how t' catch 'em yet. The youth's head turned back with the start of a small frown. He'd been wanting to learn; yet, it felt intimidating. Deer were far taller than him, far stronger, with sharp hooves that could knock out his teeth with ease.

...maybe she knew. A small part of him wanted to ask, to beg her to teach him—no, it's too early for that.

---

nah dw you never have to match my length of posts :3 i can put another one up or we can just continue with this one here! idm either way!

silatuyok followed like cloud follows breeze— quiet, soft of foot, letting the ginger boy’s words fill the air between them. his voice was light, unburdened, and she listened with a patience that had been carved into her from stone and distance.
she did not interrupt. not when he veered away from the dens. not when he spoke of mothers and mice. not even when he mimicked solemnity with a child’s grin hiding beneath it. she let him speak, as the wind let the river sing.
but her dark eyes watched all the same. watched the tilt of his ears. the flick of his tail. the weight of his frown.
you will, she said at last, after a pause had found them. her voice was low, warm as worn leather. learn. when your legs know the ground. when your breath matches the herd’s.
a pause, as her gaze lifted to the trees. they are not just strong. they are watchful.
silatuyok stepped beside him, then, letting her body speak the rest. calm. open. ready.
when you are, we will hunt one.

Skill: Ranger [4/5]

---

The silence lingered—and this time, she was the one who stopped it. Words were spoken with the warmth and firmness of sunbaked soil, raising Lugh's ears, returning the glow of determination to the boy's colorful gaze. 'You will,' his head canted, brows furrowed, 'learn. When your legs know the ground. When your breath matches the herd's.'

With anyone else, he would've retorted—Lugh does know the ground. He's spent countless hours walking, carving out paths with his impressively large, still-growing paws, sauntering along the meandrous contours of the neighboring forests' treelines.

He... thought he knew everything there was to know. Yet, there was sagacity in Silatuyok's gaze that Lugh could not rival if he wished. She did not simply know, she had seen. A spirit who'd wandered the prairies for god knows how long. Certainly, since long before Lugh had existed, even in his mother's womb.

'They are not just strong. They are watchful.' Lugh pursed his lips and dipped his head. She paced, standing in tandem with his stance. Her limbs were planted so firmly, yet her musculature was lax with confidence. He tilted his head, shifting to mimic her actions. 'When you are, we will hunt one.'

He did not question, he did not comment. Instead, he simply turned, looking into the forest with a soft breath, keeping his body alert. Wary, yet not apprehensive. I trust you. He responded quietly.