Artok woke with the sun as he always did. Golden eyes widening in rugged face. Sunlight dancing along the roped scars that made up the side of muzzle and eyes. The Burn on the patch between his shoulder blades. He remembered it had been bad this wound. And he was forever marked, but damned if he couldn't remember it happening.

He stretched and then slowly began the movements that loosened the shoulder and leg up that he could move. His other limbs and senses making up for the ruined one. And he could use it, his range of motion was just crap.

His hobbled run soon turned into a more graceful limp and he pushed himself hard.

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Adlartok

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Creole had been awake for a while, his mind plagued with thoughts of where Reign had been, his children, Oni and Lithe... Sighing the man stood up and decided to pull his large form from the den he shared with his missing wife... Goodness she liked to wander...

Poking his head into the day the man hopped down the mountain with ease and stopped to watch the lands for a minute. He saw a wolf he didn't recognize limp-loping through the territory and Creole decided to hop down and head in the direction of them.

He neared the other and let out a soft chuff of a greeting as he slowed his pace. Creole was larger than the man but not by much, he stayed stern in his expression as he approached the unknown other. Were they packmates or a lost soul...?

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The fur along his spine rose in seconds when the cloud of frost and fresh snow knew he was being watched. Ears tweaked forward. He adopted a neutral stance, but kept his bad side out of reach.

Something he had learned quickly how to do. He always was wary of others even those in his own pack. And he remembered only that those that were supposed to protect you, could be the ones to wound you.

But he couldn't answer you why, but he supposed it probably had something to do with his life altering scars now, that he couldn't remember how they came to be.

He did not know this wolf, but he smelled like Nyra as Adlartok should as well. Adlartok waited. This man had chuffed first so he had stopped. He'd let him speak first. And then Artok would determine how to answer.

A dip of large head. Golden eyes leaping to others face and down again. Ears twitched.

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Adlartok

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The Dragon stopped a few feet away and allowed the other a moment to take him in, how he smelled, how he looked, his ears twitched as he awaited Creole's words.

Доброе утро (Good morning)... Good morning... He greeted with a warm smile and a wave of his high carried plume, the tendrils waving gracefully as he moved them, his head dipped slowly and raised back to it's high held position. Are you new here...? The Dragon King questioned with a gentle tilt of his head.

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This wolf was a big un. But not much more so than Artok. White like snow, without the gray frost like Artok himself.

A language he didn't know. His ear twitch3d, but it was followed with the one he did. There may have been a time in lifetimes past Artok knew another, but not now. Artok was still wary. But he listened.

I am. Adlartok Arrluk. Arrived yesterday. his voice a little gruff as it always was with strangers.

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Adlartok

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The make twitched his ear again and introduced himself as Adlartok. Creole waved his tail again briefly and dipped his head once more. Welcome Adlartok, I am Creole, one of the Freyr's of Hildibrandr... He smiled, lifting his head and tilting it to the side, his citrine gaze locked onto the other.

Have you woken here in Mythris or have you traveled here? He questioned further, some of the wolves woke up here, some were birthed, some traveled and managed to make there way to Mythris... Creole himself had woken an angry, madness stricken, beast looking for his wife... It took him ages but he finally found her...

Creole twitched his ears in question as he waited for the others answer patiently. His tail relaxed and limp behind him, no need to go up in arms for another pack wolf, not when they hadn't given him any reason to be on guard... Luckily his children were large and could handle themselves if he decided to mention them to the pack stranger.

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At least this white furred beast was a respectful one. For a moment just a beat of one. Artok remembered another who met him at a border. Calicoed and harsh. Had never liked him. Then it was gone as quick as it came. And he was left momentarily confused.

Not sure where I stand yet. But I'm a warrior even if I look like I'm not.

Adlartok was struck dumb for a moment at the next question. He, he couldn't remember. He'd been traveling he thought. But then snap shots of something else had attached to him upon his arrival at the pack borders. And he had felt so very old. Then it had dispersed.

I think he tasted his words. Forming them with thought. It's a little bit of both

Artok wouldn't have cared one whit if this ones children were small or large. He wasn't in the practice of hurting children. He alone knew the havoc and the hell it would reap. After all. He had been a whole child once, until someone decided he needed to be less than.

Skill: Advisor

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Adlartok

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If he had known this one's views on hurting children Creole would have respected him all the more, you never know who and what was out there these days...

You will find your place, the pack can always use more warriors... He smiled, his eyes squinting a little with the effort of his smile. A crinkling at the corners of his eyes like an older man... He really was getting up there wasn't he...

Well... It's good to know you've woken on this side of the dirt... There could always be a worse fate... Creole told the other, giving him a word of advice to his emotions and hoping it might help.

Has Nyra given you a task yet? Is there something maybe I can help with? He offered, finally taking a seat and gracefully setting his rump down to curl his tail slowly around his haunches and set the tip on his toes.

---

Artok was many things. An ass. A jerk. Bitter and broken. Rude and loud. But. But he also still held some sort of something, that protected the innocent. Perhaps not forever, once they grew up and started viewing things a certain way. Well then it wasn't his job to protect them, it was their job to protect themselves.

Artok felt like he remembered feeling old. That he had been old. The weakening of paws. The way his body have given out. And yet how was this possible. He was no more than 3. Still a young man in his prime, despite his limitations.

Death isn't so bad. It's like a nice rest. He spoke the words with a conviction that he wasn't sure where it came from. But it was a truth he would die on a hill for. And if you saved another while dying, all the better for it.

Nyra sounded wrong. The name sounded wrong, but she had introduced her self as such and he would remember it. No she didn't, not yet. Today I was doing what I always do to loosen up this shoulder as best I can.

Skill: Herbalist

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Adlartok

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Creole nodded in understanding and smiled a little. I cannot say I've ever experienced death but I could use a nice rest... He rolled his shoulders a little with a chuckle, citrine eyes gleaming in the sun as bright as lemons, I could offer you some fireweed... It would help if there is any inflammation... The older man offered, hoping maybe he could help the newcomer in some other way.

Would you like company in your journey this morning? Perhaps I could show you some of the hunting grounds... Creole questioned, offering company and information on the territory, wondering if the man would take his offer. Though he was more than happy to be on his way if indeed the man wanted to be alone... He knew what it was like being foreign to a land and its customs... He was a "newborn" once...

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