the initial hangover after the Hallow’s festival had been pure nightmare fuel - an unending thump of pain against their skull that didn’t let up for several hours, no matter how much water they drank - but the resulting days are almost worse. every morning they drag themselves from their den and set out hunting down breakfast or running through drills, working themselves until their muscles ache and their mind is so tired they can scarcely think beyond their desire for a shower. then they fill the remainder of the day anyway they can, with blacksmithing practice or weapon cleaning or another round of relentless drills. it’s a monotonous, mind-numbing sludge of a routine, but it keeps them moving. keeps them from crumbling in a heap and never resurfacing, as they so often longed to do. but they can feel it coming, the inevitable breakdown, a culmination of denial of overexertion. maybe, if they just push themselves that bit further, they can outrun it. this morning, however, they wake extra early prop themselves up against the entrance of the col, watching the dawn rise and bleed across the horizon.

"Speech"

The early bird would get the worm. That was the saying wasn't it? In so many words, Wilder understood it. Had come to understand it through many days and nights of hunting. Both successful and not. And for such a large beast as himself, he figured his hunger would never come to an end. While he could rely on the pack now for sustenance, he also didn't want to be a freeloader. So rising just as the first rays of the sun began to peak over the horizon would be his new alarm. For this purpose, he'd chose a den nearest to the entrance along the southern warrens. A place where he could still see and smell the outdoors while also being more than protected from the elements.

Ensuring that his small fire is completely out, Wilder leaves his new humble above and begins to head north toward the woods. His first stop would be the market to see if anyone had any new sort of trap or tool that would be useful for hunting. As he approaches the main entrance to the market, his vermilion eyes land on a tiny figure that is undoubtedly familiar. Brows lift in shock and curiosity as he ambles up to Spider.

"Ain't you a sight fer sore eyes," Wilder comments, a playful smirk teasing along his charcoal lips. "Ya live 'ere too or jus' visitin'?" he questions moving around to sit near them, his shoulder leaning against the wall. With his chin tilted downward to look upon Spider, Wilder can notice the weariness of Spider's expression. Something was definitely different from when they'd last met, but he couldn't quite put a paw on it.

WILDER

movement draws their attention from the sky, and Spider turns to find a vaguely familiar face gazing back at them. it takes a moment to place him, brows lifting in a single upward sweep. “tree boy,” they remark, lips tugging up briefly on one side. a barely-there flash of a smile. “never thought i’d see you in my neck of the woods.” they look into his eyes and see rain, and wet earth, and the construction of a shelter between two soggy pups. a simpler time, free of the dark thoughts that dog their every step, the oppressive weight that sits, unyielding, across the line of their shoulders. the simplicities of childhood. they can feel it slipping between their toes like sand.

“Bas is my Dad,” Spider informs the boy, rolling their shoulders. a satisfying crack rents the air. “I’m sort of his heir? an approximation of it, anyway - me and Feathers are splitting the title. you met Feathers yet?” they’re confident that if Wilder hasn’t met Wylan yet, they will soon. the winged boy would befriend a dandelion. “don’t worry,” Spider adds, a glint of mischief in their eyes, “i won’t make you bow.”

"Speech"

Wilder gives a chuckle at the nickname Tree Boy. Ah yes, they had spent quite a bit with the trees and building that fort hadn't they? He smirks, giving a nod. "I didn't think I'd ever be north either," he comments, chin turning downward so that he could meet Spider's piercing gaze. Indeed, back then, life had been simpler, more fun. Much had changed and he can see it in the way Spider's gaze bores into his own soul. What had happened during the time since they'd last met?

Ah, Basilisk is their dad? Wilder doesn't quite believe it because Basilisk was massive and Spider, well Spider is tiny, but the striping and personalities matched so it wasn't entirely unbelievable. "Splittin' it eh? Why's that? You ain't got proper claim to the throne?" Wilder questions, another chuckle in his throat as peers quizzically at Spider. "Feathers? No, I ain't meet no one called Feathers yet," he replies, brow scrunching in thought. Why would a wolf be called Feathers?

But Spider is quick to tease, the mischief in their eyes bringing the chuckle back up into his mouth. "Ah, your royal heinous, how courteous of you," he smirks back, purposefully tilting his chin upward as a playful show of defiance toward the heir apparent. "If yer royalty and all that nonsense, what's got ya lookin' so down in the dumps? Ain't that sort of thing something supposed to be fun"?" Wilder questions, head tilting as his own mischievous expression softens into friendly concern.

WILDER

understandably, Wilder has some questions about their title. Spider huffs at his teasing, affecting exaggerated annoyance. “i can’t believe you’d speak to your…” what the hell even are they? “superior like that,” they settle on it. yeah, that sounds suitably imperious. “anyway, Wylan’s got the other half of the throne,” they explain, voice gaining a fond edge as they think of the winged wolf. “he’s Bas’…cousin, i think? he’s who i meant by Feathers. you know, because of the…” they gesture to their shoulders where a pair of wings would be. “i really hope you’ve met him now, otherwise that’s gonna make no sense to you.”

their eyes lose their mischievous light, however, when he inquires about their mood. Spider deflates a little. “alas, not all is bright and shiny in the Armadian kingdom,” they muse, mouth quirking in a wry slant. Spider hesitates, stealing a sideways glance at Wilder. should they tell him about Hazel? true, they don’t know each other very well, but maybe that’s the best audience to settle on; an impartial one. after a moment, they settle on, “do you believe in love, Wilder? like true, forever-and-ever soulmate kind of love?”

"Speech"

Wilder is not surprised when Spider admits that not all is bright and shiny in their kingdom. Though he is new and knows not many of the wolves here, from the few he has met, her a tell that something else brews beneath the surface. What pack willingly kept slaves? Could they even be considered slaves? Not like anyone treated them as the slaves other places had.

His brow furrows in question anyway, wondering where Spider was going with this. He settles into his seat, shoulder still leaning against the stone wall of the Col. Might as well get comfy if they were going to chat.

When Spider inquires about love and whether he believes in it, it has him thinking. He looks away from Spider, a hum in his throat as he considers the question. Did he believe in love? No one had really shown him what love was before so he couldn’t really say he knew what love was. His parents had abandoned him at a young age after all.

“Well, no, I don’t think I believe in true and forever and ever love. You may find a soulmate, but when you’re young and kinda dumb, you might not know what exactly ya need in a soulmate. Emotions and hormones and all that jazz,” he raises his paw in a flourish, trying not to be so specific but enough to get the point across. “But maybe when we’re older an’ have experienced life a bit, we might know what we want in a soulmate,” his shoulders shrugs, looking down at Spider to see if this is was the answer they were looking for.

Spider can’t say they’re surprised by Wilder’s answer; he seems like a pretty down to earth guy, no pun intended. and his reasoning is certainly practical, rational. Spider thinks of Bas and Hazel’s relationship, of how they’d idealised it as something to strive for. something to yearn for. they feel foolish for that now, and, (might as well admit it) a little embittered. “that’s…very sensible of you,” they sigh, inclining their head. they mirror Wilder, settling back against the stone and turning their head to face him. “my…parents broke up,” they admit, dragging a paw through the snow. it sounds juvenile, like the problems of a child, and a part of Spider expects Wilder to roll his eyes. he didn’t sign on to be anyone’s therapist, after all. “i know it happens - people drift apart, obviously - but, um…my Mum left right afterward.”

they blow out a breath, watching it mist before them in the chill air. “i guess i’m just rethinkin’ some things. a lot of things.” like how love…probably isn’t worth it. at least not to them, not if it means even an eighth of the heartbreak they’ve been experiencing these past few weeks. they’re perfectly happy to leave that shit alone, thanksverymuch. “sorry,” Spider chuckles, laughing wetly. they scrub furiously at their eyes. “i didn’t mean to chew your ear off.”

"Speech"

Wilder's gaze is trained on Spider, waiting for them patiently to work through their thoughts. It was clear in their stiffened demeanor and stressed expression that there was a lot going on in those inner workings. At first, he doesn't think they'll say anything at all, but when they recline against the cool stone, looking up at him, meeting his gaze, he raises a brow in answer.

"You ain't wrong there," Wilder muses, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He's only trying to help Spider not feel so down in the dumps, but the next statement has his face draining. Oh, that was a lot. Spider is young as well and from what they explain, it was a dramatic breakup. His face scrunches, a frown lacing his lips as his ears tilt backward. "Apologies," he mumbles, reaching a paw up to pat them on the shoulder in a friendly manner. A way of comfort that Wilder thought was sufficient.

"Rethinkin' lots of things, hm? Like what?" He asks, head canting once more, eyes looking upon Spider expectantly. "No need for the sorrys, I'm all ears," Wilder teases, settling into a more comfortable sitting position to prove that he was more than willing to hear it all.

Wilder is kind, and that eases some of the ache in their chest. he doesn’t need to be, of course; Spider themselves would probably be uncertain if a strange wolf started venting to them. but he’s attentive and polite, and for that, they offer a grateful smile. they won’t forget this kindness, they vow. they’ll pay it back. ”just…well, the meaning of love, i suppose,” they snort, quirking an ironic brow. “like, is it worth it, if it destroys families? is it even real, or is it, like, a chemical reaction?” they shake their head, suddenly self-conscious. “whatever. it’s not something i have to worry about.” pushing the cacophony of thoughts away, Spider fixes Wilder with a curious glance. “what about you, tree boy? any secret traumas i can plumb?” they’re only kidding, and anyway, Wilder seems like a more private individual. Spider isn’t usually one to go informing strangers of their trauma either…but these months have been strange, to say the least. “how did you come to be here, amongst us mountain folk?”

He looks up toward the sky with those vermillion eyes to think on what Spider has to say. They aren't wrong necessarily, but he also wonders if they're seeing the bigger picture of it all too. Was love really real or as they said, just a chemical reaction? Something made up in their minds? Honestly, it was rather deeper thoughts than Wilder ever cared to carry on with. He wasn't a man of such conversations. In a sense, he's thankful that Spider changes the topic, poking him about his own trauma and what not, but he still can't help but worry about the kid. To Wilder, Spider would always be the little punky puppy he found waterlogged in the swamp.

"Ain't got much," Wilder offers, looking down at Spider. "I did have a girl in mind, but I ain't much for commitment so I scooted on and haven' looked back," he shrugs his shoulders, brushing off the open admittance that he had probably broken her heart, but he wasn't going to admit it hurt him the same too. "See these scars on my shoulders?" He tilts so that Spider can get a better look at the three jagged pink scars that now run down each shoulders. "Cougar cut me up pretty bad. Kinda gave me that rude awakenin' that I needed help," again, he doesn't want to put pressure on the whole admitting he's weak thing, but he trusts Spider to an extent and hope they could relate in a sense. "So 'ere I am, a newly proclaimed mountain folk," he puffs up his chest, lips widening into a cheeky smile for them.