The night sky shimmered with quiet beauty above her, a tapestry of light that never failed to soothe her soul. Devika doubted she’d ever tire of it. In the absence of others, the stars had always been her silent companions, ever constant, ever shining. They drifted across the heavens like ancient sentinels, always within reach of her gaze.

She sat motionless beneath the towering pines, her soft blue eyes fixed upward. And yet… something was wrong.

These stars, why did they seem so unfamiliar?

Their patterns were strange, unfamiliar constellations etched across the dark. A quiet dread stirred in her chest, settling low in her gut like a stone in still water. The sky she had known, trusted, had changed.

Lowering her gaze, she took in her surroundings with new wariness. The trees stood tall and quiet around her, cloaked in snow and shadow. Rising slowly, she moved among them, silent, deliberate. She was a part of this forest as much as the wind or the snow-draped branches.

Her steps made no sound, blending with the hush of winter’s breath. In that familiar silence, the unease began to fade, soothed by the rhythm of the forest she thought she knew so well.

Although he just joined the Kingdom of Avon, it was part of his mission to explore and find new wolves. The Starwoven were to join the first group they can find that will accept them and have not encountered another Starwoven. He happened upon Avon, and will return to the blushed meadow soon enough. There was much to learn here, and knowing the lay of the land for a certain distance from the pack was an important part of storytelling. Mapping out the world mapped out the stories.

But it was the night sky that troubled the man the most. The Starwoven used the stars to record their stories, and these stars were not the stars of the homeland. They were similar in many regards, but there were so many notable differences. It was what gave away that he was indeed Starcast..but in the stories told by the elders, never once were the stars changed so much by a Starcast wolf.

So he wandered, remembering the lay of the land with incredible detail. His sense of direction was stellar, and noting of landmarks impeccable. He felt the most comfort with the stars above him, even if they were not his stars. The trees of the forest of this area would hide much of the story of the sky behind their branches. Each forest had their own names, and he wondered what to call this patch. As he pushed forth with his large, foreboding body (though his aura gave much the opposite), his molten eyes caught sight of movement It is dark, but he can tell it is someone of white and mottled colors. Another wolf. He straightens himself out and clears his throat, his posture prim and proper.

”Peace upon you, wanderer. This one bears no fang beneath the stars, only words, if you would hear them.” he calls out, his voice deep but quite soothing in nature, carried on the cool wind towards the stranger moving ahead. He hoped that they would stop and speak with him, as he would not dare follow and make anyone uneasy.

Dappled ears flicked at the voice that broke the forest’s hush. Ice-blue eyes swept the clearing, landing on a large male among the trees. Most might have found his stature imposing, but Devika felt only intrigue. His speech pattern was odd, unfamiliar to her even after all her travels. Fascinating.

The Painted Ghost moved silently through the undergrowth, weaving closer to the stranger. She stopped at a respectful distance, raising her tail, not in submission, nor in challenge, but simply open to the encounter. Tilting her head, she studied him, prodding him with a curious, steady gaze.

Moments like this made her wonder how different things would be if she could speak. If she could share her questions, her thoughts… But the thought passed quickly. She had long since accepted the limits of her silence.

Lowering herself into a sit, she lifted a paw in a small, deliberate gesture, inviting him to continue. She was certain he carried knowledge she wished to absorb. His presence was calm, his words echoing in her mind even after they fell quiet.

Would he speak again, she wondered, or would he think her silence a mockery? It wouldn’t be the first time others had mistaken her muteness for insolence. A frustrating reality she had learned to endure.

There is an eagerness in his face. It is a genuine desire to meet someone new in the land that was suddenly cast to not too long ago. He knew that his physical form was naturally large and muscular, which did not give off a friendly vibe in its stature. He always wondered if that was one of the reasons he was not chosen yet for the The Lunaventure. He was unsure if the night helped or hindered in his appearance, he would still look large, but the details were lost in the shadow.

He felt the anticipation in his bones. The forest was still between them, and his own form was frozen with ears forward in anticipation. The stranger appears to hear him, but no words flow in the air. Yet the stranger moved closer, and he watched carefully to understand their intentions. There did not seem to be any aggression, or particular discomfort, but the silence clung to him desperately. The eyes of the wolf sat upon him, and he felt rather…awkward. Was there something wrong? Did he do something odd? He felt himself gulp as the stranger lowered into a sit.

The stranger made a gesture, but not a sound. A crack could be heard from a bird moving in the distance among the trees, and his ear flickers in response. His molten eyes blink as his mind tried to go over his training. They were taught how to approach so many situations, and yet when they come, it was hard to remember what to do. There was but cool air between them for a moment as his mind tried to consider what the gesture meant. Consent was a key tenant of the Starwoven, so he went with the first step.

”This one means no disrespect. May steps be taken nearer?” he asks, voice somewhat confident and yet hinted with a bit of caution and perhaps a slight waiver of confusion. He did his best to be formal, but he was new to his mission, and experience was lacking. He moved no other muscle but a small wag of his tail, and hope in his eyes.

There was a flicker of confusion in those molten eyes of his, and Devika couldn’t blame him. What was there to say when all you were met with was silence?

Still, she gave a small nod, confirming she was fine with his approach.

Her head tilted slightly in the opposite direction, icy gaze never leaving his face. Even in the darkness, she could see he was handsome, well put together, sturdy, carrying himself with a quiet confidence that was hard to ignore.

She lifted her nose, sifting through the scents that clung to him. There were others on his pelt, though not strongly. He was out here alone, then. Interesting. What business did a pack wolf have wandering so far from his people?

Her ears flickered, curiosity brightening the glint in her cold eyes. Once again, she lifted a paw, gesturing lightly, encouraging him to speak.

She wondered if they would be able to strike up a conversation, one-sided as it would be. He seemed patient enough, and she clung to that small hope, waiting quietly, ready to listen.

There is still nothing but silence in the air. It permeates through everything, and not even the wind stirs. He could hear his own breathing. It was a sound that seemed to take over his ears. Something he is normally not so aware of, but on this night it seemed so loud.

The stranger’s nod seemed to be a gesture of approval. He takes in a breath, a bit deeper than before, before lifting large dark paws to get a more appropriate distance. He was only maybe 5-6 feet away before he stopped, dipping his dark muzzle before settling down onto his own haunches. Her movements encourage his voice.

“This one is fur-named Duskbreaker, named when dusk broke the day. Might this one know what name the stars gifted you?” he asked gently, his own molten eyes looking to hers- a color so opposite of his own. Hers was a color more often seen by his own pack, although his own color was not unheard of either. Her eyes caught the light of night, and they seemed to sparkle a bit. He was able to take in her form and coloration. Hers was a form more unseen amongst his homeland, and he felt almost dazzled by her fur. He dare not stare though, and quickly ensures his eyes lock with hers.

He so desperately wanted to succeed in his mission, to not disappoint. The stranger before him though, he had a feeling she was not going to reply…not with her voice anyway, and he hoped it was not due to any misdeeds of his approach.

Duskbreaker. An interesting name for an intriguing man.

Devika was all too aware of the silence pressing in around them, a silence that had become her lifelong companion. She wanted so badly to speak to him, to engage in this conversation properly. Frustration simmered in her chest.

She studied him, weighing her options. Did the land he came from know the written word? Would he understand if she spelled out her name? Some had called her mad for scratching her scribbles into the dirt; perhaps he would be one of them. But it was worth a try.

With quiet determination, Devika rose and stepped closer to the large male. She positioned herself at his side, facing the same direction he did, then lowered her head to the snow-dusted pine needles. Carefully, she began to drag her paw across the ground, shaping each letter with deliberate precision until her name stood clear against the earth: DEVIKA.

When she finished, she circled back to sit across from him once more. She gestured first to the name in the snow, then to herself, holding his gaze as she waited, hoping he would understand, that the silence would not swallow her attempts.

Another idea flickered. Slowly, Devika raised a paw to her throat, pressing gently before shaking her head. Her ice-blue eyes searched his face, hoping the gesture would make it clear: she was mute, not some cold, disrespectful creature refusing to speak.

There was still no sound but that of the trees in the wind, which only blew for but a moment. He looked to her with his eagerness, and no words came. Instead, he could perhaps sense a bit of frustration on her end. He remained without word for now, observing what he could from the woman before him.

She then moves, and he remains still and respectful with great curiosity. She moved to his side, and he looked to her as she did so. He was not used to someone being so close to him, and naturally he was beginning to feel more nervous. Nervous that he was not executing the mission correctly. Nervous that his approach was not correct. Nervous that someone else was so close, but he held it together rather well with it mostly being inner turmoil.

She begins to move her paw against the ground, moving it around to where symbols were shown in the ground. He watched carefully at each and every symbol, but ears fell slightly. He knew not what they meant, but it was a hint. He had heard of such things, but none were brought back to the Starwoven in enough detail that they could use them. She moved back to the other side, gesturing from the symbols to herself. Molten eyes blinked. She then motioned at her neck and shook her head. At least, he feels it confirm a growing suspicion. The woman was mute.

“Forgive this one… these marks are unknown to this one’s eyes. Yet… do they speak your name?” he inquires, looking back down at the symbols on the ground. He looked for a moment, his face wrinkling a bit with intense thought. "You are a Wordless One…One Who Writes The Wind." he said a bit more quietly, eyes still focused on the symbols below. There were some stories of those without words, but without the stars of his sky, the details of their stories were hazy. His ears suddenly perked, and he looked back to the stranger with almost a puppy like excitement - toned down by his desire to be proper and formal.

“A thought comes to this one… might you write this one’s name beneath your own?” he asks, not knowing if it was something possible. Perhaps the symbols are unique to each individual, but he had heard that these symbol systems can work in different ways. One of the ways relates the symbols to sounds, another the symbols strictly mean a single thing. He had to try though, for a name is so important to one’s being.

He confirmed what she had feared: he was not familiar with the written language she knew. It had been worth a try. She nodded at his question, gesturing once more between the markings and herself.

“One Who Writes the Wind.”

She liked how that sounded. His speech patterns fascinated the painted dame, each clipped syllable and strange rhythm another puzzle to unravel. She wondered what kind of place he came from. What were his people like? Were they all as large as him? Did they all speak in that curious way? And why was he here at all? That mystery lingered between them, just as her own name remained a mystery to him.

Then, he made a suggestion.

Devika’s ears flickered as she considered it. After a moment, she stood and padded back to his side. Beneath the marks spelling out her name, she carefully scratched another word into the dirt:

DUSKBREAKER.

She then pointed at the word before turning to press her paw lightly against his chest, making it clear: this was his name.

Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

Turning back to the letters drawn on the ground, she began pointing to the ones they shared. Both names began with “D.” That was convenient, he should be able to make that connection easily. The other matching letters might be more challenging. Maybe the “K,” with its sharp, distinct sound, would stand out to him, but she wasn’t holding her breath for the “E” and “A.”

Still, even if he only remembered her as “D,” it would be a step up from nameless.

He wasn’t sure if it would work, but if she was willing, it was worth a try. If she could use these symbols, and he could say the words, then perhaps there was a way. It may just take a long time to get it figured out.

She moves back to him, and he remains sitting and patient. He watched as she wrote once again with her paw. The symbols did have some of the same ones, but also many different ones. She pointed from the symbols and touched his chest. He froze up a bit, not used to the touch of anyone but his own mother. He felt himself breath sharply inward, but she then continued to match the letters.

He focused again on his mission, molten eyes observing the letters that matched. He thought about it for a moment. He really couldn’t determine where the letters matched up with the sounds. ”Duskbreaker…” he whispers to himself as he looked over the symbols again. His tail wagged a bit uncontrollably as he got another thought.

”If this one speaks his name slowly, might you mark where each sound shifts? Then… perhaps this one can learn how your symbols sing,” he says with a slight grin on his dark maw, hoping that she would understand and agree. He then begins, speaking very slowly, ”Dddduuuusssskkbbbrrreeaaakkkeeerrr.” He watches her, hoping that she was able to point while he spoke, and hoping that he would be able to use this information to better understand her name.