Paws of Autumn swept across the landscape. Yellow eyes darted from one corner to the next. Upon his back a few hides he had hunted. As whole pieces as claws and teeth could make. Only temporary things. But they brought comfort and he knew how to make them last a little if you were careful. They could be cleaned and sun dried. The ragged edges bit off.

He stood overlooking meadows and mountains. He had not been far into this territory and already he was awe stricken. It was beautiful and bountiful. And he was pleased. It would be nice to meet others. To learn of packs in the area. To settle.

skill: hunter

Mythris' curse had spread Elysium thin and far; with some of their members going to Avon for safety, clean water, and plentiful prey. Whereas she, her mothers, and some others had ended up staying in the Respite. Everyone there had lost weight, their skin stretching over the canvases of their ribs, burns leeching across their ankles from the poisoned water, among other ailments. Things were growing dangerous. They'd even lost two of their own; Fleetwood and Nemean, a devastating blow.

It'd driven her towards the Golden Glade, where the prey that resided there were now growing thin due to the destitution of the land. It was unclear how long the golden grass would stay golden, if the fields would remain plentiful or fester with rot like the nearby rivers.

Low in the tall wisps of grass, Aelia crouched, widened lunar eyes peeking, the tips of her blonde ears waving white little flags as she focused. Nearby, a brown hare crept. If she hadn't been so desperate, she would have stopped to consider this animal's life — remembering back to the time she met Sycamore — a rabbit who'd given her a new perspective on her victims' lives. Yet, right now, her stomach growled greedily, and her body reacted before her mind. Like a comet across the sky, she jetted across the grass, quicker than the rabbit could react (probably also affected by the weariness of the plague), and her teeth sank into the beast before he could utter a word to stop her.

A noise in the distance made her head snap up, the hare in her maw, clamped between her teeth; dead. She wished for it to be a sluggish herd of any cervine creature, but was met with another wolf whose fur reminded her of what autumn looked like in the Respite; shades of brown and burnt umber, black contouring his pelt. For a second, she wonders if this might become a challenge for food — but she noted the hides draped across his back, hiding away the top of his pelt. It didn't look like he needed any help finding places to hunt.

Lykaon was coming in blind to a world he knew nothing about. As such he did not know anything of a plague, or of sickness or sadness or death. Other than the normal things. But the world seemed stretched thin here in the fields. There was not as much prey as he normally would have seen. He was debating on leaving. When a noise caught his attention.

It was with surprise and a gentle kinship he watched the other wolf hunting. Hunting that was something he could do. Loved to do. It was like breathing. There was something to be said about it. He locked his legs in case she missed, but she caught the hare. And did not need the Autumn boy's help.

She looked like golden blossoms in field. The star that shaped her head, was bright in the gleam of her fur. She looked thin, and waifish. As if she had gone too long without food or proper nutrition and drink. Yellow eyes took it all in. And he dipped his head.

Uh Hello. I'm Lykaon Ardeth.

skill: orator

Aelia held onto her catch possessively, as if the man would try to come and take it from her. Sure, she was tired, but she could put up a fight if it came to that — right? The exhaustion had her thinking differently, as well as the hunger that chewed at the wall of her stomach, the binding against her ribs. Her mouth started to salivate at the warmth in her mouth. It had been a while since she'd eaten.

'Uh hello.' There is no malice, no indications of him threatening to jump forward and take the rabbit from her. If anything, he was civil. Something that had worn away with her thought process. He introduced himself. Aelia finally had enough sense to let the rabbit drop down in front of her, placing a paw protectively atop it. Lykaon Ardeth, hello. She greeted, Aelia Callosum, of Elysium. Information she granted along with her name, as she usually did. Anyone this way of the Highlands most likely knew who Elysium were — unless they were new.

You'll have to forgive me. Ever since this plague has fallen over the River, my manners have evaded me, along with the prey. She noted, nodding down towards the rabbit, one of the few that rustled in the golden grasses still.

Lykaon didn't shift his position or ghost forward as he often would. The wariness came off her in waves. He wasn't looking to be on the wrong end of someone's teeth or claws. Not so new into the gate so to speak.

Pleasure to meet you. Miss. Aelia.

The name was a little foreign on his tongue, but he did his best. He was a simple wolf really. The next words though and he blinked. Ahe shared with him as if he should know it and he didn't.

He cleared his throat a little embarrassed. You'll have to forgive me. I just go to the area. Is Elysium a pack perhaps? Or a home?

Ears fell to his head. And he straightened a little. You're forgiven, but uh a plague?

He now began to look around him in Ernest, yellow eyes taking in the lands. Her own emaciated figure. His gut clenched.

skill: orator

The Daystar straightened a tiny bit when he voiced her name, a little unsure, but he got it right, which was all she could ask for, really. Her head bowed in acknowledgement, meeting his yellow eyes, his question hanging in the air. A pack, yes. And a home. Many find refuge with us. Even through the hard times, even when they shouldn't have. Her heart is still sore from the loss of two of their own because of this damned plague.

Lykaon's body language shifted when she mentioned the plague. Ah, more of the puzzle pieces started to fit together. Yes... the plague... Her eyes glinted, studying him, his fit stature and healthy form — where the other territories not suffering like they were? Or was he not only new to the Highlands, but Mythris as a whole? Lykaon, how long have you been here? She made a wide gesture with her paw, finally allowing it to leave the prey below her. Have you heard the Dream Visitor speak?

There was hesitancy to his voice, but she did not reprimand so he must have gotten it right. Or at least semi correct.

Lykaon nodded. He understood. Sometimes foundlings came. His father had not been kind to any males, usually unless one of his daughters took a shine.

He shifted thinking. A day or two. he couldn't rightly remember and he didnt know how long he had been in this place before he found another.

He shook his head. who is the dream visitor?