For a long time Ysmir was certain that the buffalo knolls was the largest stretching expanse of land he had ever seen. Now that he had crossed over Fireside’s borders he wasn’t so sure these plains weren’t never ending. The quiet boy loped through the snow, his gyrfalcon soared above his head. Ysmir was very nearly able to see as far as the bird with how flat the terrain was. So caught up in his surroundings the young Finnvi didn’t even spare a thought to where he was. Very nearly a year old he felt like he was gaining his independence. While loyal and supportive of his family he also felt strongly individualistic. Ysmir was always different from his siblings, if not only because of his silence.

The sky was gray and reary, ready to let more snow fall at a moment's notice. The majority of Ysmir’s life was lived through this ice age winter. Sometimes he forgot what life was like without snow. This experience in the snow made the boy a natural at navigating the cold treacherous ground he tread. The little arctic fox he called companion taught him well, and even while she remained in the den he used that knowledge. Ysmir wore his leather bracers, he felt like he was finally growing into them. The added protection from the cold did him well as he and Barenziah journeyed on their own.

He’d have to be more careful sneaking back into the pack than he had sneaking out. There were always scouts and patrols going on, more attention was paid to what was going on without instead of within. Ysmir shook his head slightly as the thought crossed his mind, there was only room for the moment. A determined grin caught his features and the boy put on a burst of speed, he raced through the dry snow. He left trails of the white powder behind him and kicked his heels as youthful energy propelled him forward.

When he wasn't scrounging for food or walking, Iarlaith was sleeping. Of course, a damnably long winter (where the hell was spring) certainly didn't help the malaise he suffered under. He'd stumbled across this place last night.

It felt old. Mysterious. A bit scary.

Which meant it was perfect.

Other wolves tended to avoid places like this, as far as he knew, and that meant no one would be bothering him any time soon. He'd nestled his way between a piece of some sort of metal—oblong and slightly concave—and the snowy earth. His back was covered, just the ends of his paws and the tip of his fluffy tail poking out as he snored softly. He didn't sleep half as often as he would have liked, and that was a shame. And when he did sleep, he didn't sleep even a fraction as deeply as he used to.

And boy, was that an ever-loving nuisance.

Because he definitely thought he heard the scraping of paws a minute ago, and now he wasn't going to be able to sleep because he was too busy worrying about whatever the hell it was! Better not be that Big Bastard again. His nose crinkled in the shadows where his face was hidden. He'd pull his paws in, but he was pretty sure more of him wouldn't fit under his makeshift (and literal) shield unless he actually got out and dug into the frozen earth. Which he really didn't feel like doing. So… better check.

He bent at the middle, hind legs shifting back under him (and under his cover), so the end of his pointed muzzle could poke out. One glistening, orange eye peeked at the barren landscape. It narrowed, shifting back and forth, searching. "Hmph."

As Ysmir raced forward Barenziah dipped, dived, and dove in an almost dance like manner above him. The younglings raced through the snow covered field in those early hours like they had no other care in the world. Ysmir had always been closer to his instincts, perhaps having to do with his inability to really communicate audibly. There was an odd sense about this place, maybe the unnatural metal shrapnel that littered the landscape or maybe Ysmir was more in tune with his surroundings. Nature grew up around the abandoned objects but they wouldn’t be truly reclaimed. The spirit of what was done here would forever live on, the boy could feel it.

The spirit of warriors before him ran through his veins, he could feel the kindred spirit even now. Generations later. Dark paws carried him forward, his long gait carrying him effortlessly over the plains. His speed only matched by the raptor above him. He grinned up at the bird as dual toned eyes glittered in the snow reflected light. He raced, unknowingly, towards the pan who peeked out into the snow.

Ysmir barreled towards him, and unknowingly, used the shelter like a springboard. Ysmir became just as airborne as his feathered companion, and for a moment he could kiss the sky. The almost yearling soared right over the strangers head and rained snow heavily upon him.

Nothing. Iarlaith huffed to himself, determining he should merely withdraw into his cozy hideaway again and go back to his nap. It was dreary and gross and he didn't really feel like thinking about life. No sooner had he laid his head back down, however, than did he hear it again. This time, he was sure.

Racing pawsteps.

Not big. Fast. Trouble? Not sure, but he'd find out. With a soft groan he pulled himself back around, muzzle peering out uneasily again… just in time for something to clang! so loud on the shield over his back he flinched, the shield wobbled (okay, maybe sleeping under it hadn't been a good idea), and snow rained down… right onto his exposed snout.

"What the hell!?" The words left his maw before he could think about it, nose wrinkling in a scowl to end all scowls as the culprit came down—with remarkable grace, he thought—on the other side.

Iarlaith sneezed. Snow flew from his muzzle. Agh, why does this always happen?

The dark-coated stranger was big. And annoying. And had definitely disturbed Iarlaith's beauty rest. Can't a guy get a moment's peace?! Darting out from under his cover, fur bristling, he barked a short, "Hey! What's the big idea?!" before coming to a stop, paws planted as he gave his head a good shake to dislodge the remainder of the snow.

Ysmir was airborne and with his joyous grin Barenziah called out a shrill cry of freedom and joy. His body sailed through the air, but all too soon the almost yearling was earth bound once more. At the same time a voice rose up and caught him completely by surprise. Usually he was better about being aware of his surroundings, he also had at least two extra sharp eyes looking out for him but neither bird nor wolf had caught sight of the man before he was crawling up out of the snow from behind him. With fur bristling and agitation strewn over his face the stranger was swift to confront boy and bird.

The young Finnvi might have had some words to give back but especially in the moment he wasn’t about to squeak out anything. Blue and silver eyes were opened wide in surprise, and he hadn’t hid his reaction to suddenly having another wolf behind him. Ysmir took a couple of steps back, usually a confident young lad but he was uncertain of his own actions here. That last step before he leapt had been awfully strange, had this man been beneath?

Ysmir shook his head bashfully, there was no big idea. He’d believed himself alone out here with his feathered friend. The boy shrugged then, he wouldn’t take another step back. If the stranger wanted a fight then the boy wouldn’t back down, but he truly meant no harm. The gyrfalcon that had been circling above easily landed on Ysmir’s hips and her intense stare was much more accusing compared to the innocent expression on the boy’s face.

An ear flicked—once, twice—while Iarlaith considered. See, thing was… he definitely thought it was a lanky adult until the very-definitely-not-even-a-yearling turned around. Sure, the kid was tall, but now that he was still, it was impossible for Iarlaith to miss. The lanky proportions of a young wolf, the wide, startled eyes of someone who'd never learned to guard their face like Iarlaith had…

Well. Shit.

Not that it made any difference. The kid was still rude, launching off of his shelter like that! But the kid was still just that—a kid—and Iarlaith wasn't about to go crazy on some pup who, clearly, hadn't anticipated his springboard containing an adult wolf. Yeah, Iarlaith definitely couldn't fault him for that.

The bird, on the other paw, was a far more interesting addition. Iarlaith's eyes narrowed on the attitude-with-feathers. Its keen expression (not that he was well-versed in reading the expressions on birds) made him a little more uneasy. Still, he offered a smirk. What? He wasn't going to do anything…

Besides, that little blighter could be trouble, if it was inclined to be. Hell, it even perched on the kid like some sort of pet.

Iarlaith's fur smoothed, and with a soft huff, the man rolled his orange eyes, and plopped in front of his shelter. Gracelessly. As usual.

So. What was the big idea? Iarlaith's brow rose, silently questioning the youth before him, then not-so-silently: "Out for a joy-run, eh?" He actually chuckled, eyes switching between the pair, "Or is waking strangers up just a thing for you?"

Ysmir wasn’t eager to get into a fight suddenly out here, maybe he should have been better prepared on his first adventure into the wilds. He hadn’t even worn his bracers, but if the man was a real threat the gyrfalcon would swiftly search for help and backup. Ysmir was devoted to his family as he was to them, and even if he was in the wrong to be out here they wouldn’t question him until after the threat had passed.

The stranger did eventually settle, especially after Barenziah took to his back and added her own serious gaze to his own. However close in age they might be, the raptor was wise beyond her years. The man didn’t seem to feel threatened either, not that Ysmir had any inclination to fight him if there wasn’t any need. He’d have enjoyed learning from the experience.

He was questioned then, now that he’d cooled off he seemed to have a sense of humor about him. There was a vague similarity between himself and some of the family on his father’s side. Ysmir shrugged again, obviously bashful about the real answer. He was indeed out for a joy run, without his parents and without supervision. The whit bird on his hips seemed to answer for him with a shrill but short call. She flapped her wings as though disturbed by the stranger’s light teasing.

Ysmir himself looked a little bashful, the Finnvi were not to be cowed and he’d never seen his mother apologize for anything so why did he feel so bad for disturbing this man that, in the scheme of things, shouldn’t have meant anything to him?

The boy was big. Not necessarily leggy either; if he wasn't done growing—and Iarlaith suspected he wasn't—he'd be a giant of a wolf. They grow 'em big 'round these parts, he snorted, shook himself when he received little more than a bashful stare from the yearling and a quick whistle from the bird. "Not sure what you're on about, darling," he addressed the gyrfalcon with a cheeky smile, as if he'd understood her (he hadn't), then back to the boy.

Pulling himself to his paws again with a quiet huff, and quietly noting his back end was still sore from that encounter with the Big Bastard, he took a few steps forward. His head tilted, tail sweeping a haphazard wave as his eyes flicked over the boy again. The kid looked unsure. Or caught. He didn't see any other adults around, no chaperone but the winged one. He grinned, eyes narrowing. "You're not supposed to be out here, are you?" He tutted softly.

Of course, Iarlaith didn't actually know that; it was an educated guess. The boy seemed sheepish, though that could just as well be that Iarlaith had startled him, too. "Ah, not that it's any of my business, anyway," he continued, nose twitching.

The man was only slightly disturbed by the raptor as her harsh voice chastised the dark furred male. The white bird ruffled her feathers in obvious nuisance as the stranger addressed her, however she remained mostly quiet after he acknowledged her. Ysmir didn’t shift as Iarlaith moved a little closer and gave him a critical eye. It seemed like the stranger had mostly forgiven the boy for his transgression and the star speckled boy allied himself to regain his confident stance. Head up, attention forward as he stood proudly with his impressive bird on his dark hips.

At least until the dark furred man spoke again, his power of observation was uncanny. Immediately the boy’s head fell slightly. He tried to hide his shame in his actions, he had indeed come out without permission or letting anyone know his intentions. Not that he had planned to come in contact with anyone while he was out here but when did anyone ever plan an emergency or disaster?

Right after Iarlaith subtly assured him that there would be no tattle tailing. However much Fireside was more likely to deliver retribution than reward for bringing home a wayward boy like Ysmir. The young Finnvi shrugged again and recovered as he tried to fully rid himself of the cowardice he continued to show. This wasn’t who he was supposed to be, his parents taught him to be strong and unapologetic for his actions. His pride was worth more than the weird feelings he’d gathered after disturbing the stranger.

Ysmir shook his head in agreement with the stranger, his current position outside pack lands wasn’t any of his business. The boy’s tail flagged slightly, he’d hid any other nervousness except the way his striped and speckled tail swayed at his hips.

The thing with yearlings, of course, was that their presence usually indicated adults nearby. A pack, perhaps? Or was the, ahem, poor child lost and on his own? Nah. Definitely not that. He looked like he'd been chastised by Iarlaith's comment, and that was proof enough Iarlaith was right. If anything, it amused him to no end; it was definitely the sort of thing he might have—that is, had—done when he was a young wolf.

There was something else, though, that caught Iarlaith's attention. The boy's silence. Not a peep out of him. No sorries or how-do-you-do's, just a look that suggested, "Yeah, I've been caught, so what?" and even that was utterly silent. Didn't mean the boy wasn't nervous, and if Iarlaith noticed the silence, he certainly noticed the uneasy twitch of a tail.

Eyes lidded, he flicked an ear dismissively as he turned, all unconcerned grace as he paced slowly in front of his makeshift shelter. "Look, I don't really care. You don't cause trouble for me, I don't cause trouble for you…" He heaved a put-upon sigh, eyes rolling as he looked over his shoulder at the overgrown child… then his lip quirked, a toothy half-smile. "…but you did wake me up. You got anything to say about that?" He came to a stop as his brows rose. Pointedly.

Ysmir was definitely not lost, but even if he was barenziah knew exactly where she was in relation to home. He felt like the gyrfalcon never got lost, maybe it was impossible for a bird to get lost. Or maybe she was guided by the gods themselves. Either way she’d never told him, not that he could really ask. He’d never really been able to talk, he could kind of whisper but they were mostly unintelligible. Still learning, the boy was still already better at communicating through gesture and expression than vocally.

In response to Ysmir’s silent reaction to being found out the stranger seemed to dismiss any perceived transgression. He didn’t care and wasn’t about to go on some spur of the moment adventure to seek out the boy’s pack and his parents. After the boy had been put at ease was when Iarl triggered his trap. There was no escaping the stare, nor the unsaid accusation. Why hadn’t he spoken up before.

Ysmir looked away, a tell to his nerves as his mind raced with how he could answer. The boy took in a deep breath and sighed as his dual toned gaze returned to the stranger. He opened his dark jaws as if he were about to speak, wide enough his saber like canines were much more visible. Then, releasing his breath a high pitched whine left him. He didn’t drag the sound out for very long, the strain was too much for longer than a moment, but maybe he’d get the point across well enough with that alone. Or maybe the man would think he was raised by gyrfalcons.

Oh, he got an answer. A high squeak that might've given the bird a run for her efforts. Was it possible for Iarlaith's brows to raise higher? Because they did. They definitely did. It didn't sound comfortable, the noise the kid made. It didn't look comfortable. "All right, all right, I get it, kid. Faulty set of pipes, eh?" Iarlaith winced, the little half-smile turning into a contrite little grin instead. He huffed the previous thought away. No wonder the kid was so quiet. "I was just messing with you, anyway."

This time when Iarlaith settled down on his haunches he stayed seated. His eyes twinkled however, any contrition vanishing under a snide grin. "Well. No wonder the bird was so chatty," his eyes slid to her again as he chuckled amicably. His tail swept languidly behind him, disturbing the snow in a near-perfect arc. For all the boy stood proud, Iarlaith could only imagine what it was like, being silent while your playmates grew up around you. No wolfsong, no playful banter. Just… silence. His lip quirked again, "I guess she has to make up for you."

Ysmir could whisper when forced but that almost hurt more than the whine he just let out. He’d been better at it when he was a younger puppy, or it hadn’t hurt as much he wasn’t sure. The stranger was satisfied though, his words to cease were unneeded as the boy quieted again. He nodded slightly at the assessment. Maybe he was faulty, but he’d never been faulted for it growing up. His intelligence, and his sibling’s interpretation, helped.

Dual toned eyes watched as the man seated himself, relaxing considerably now that he had more of the truth. Ysmir tried not to see any pity, he lacked in one ability but he excelled in others. Like all of life there was some game of give and take, he didn’t feel disabled. His siblings could speak and they could speak for him, Fin was an expert in understanding the boy’s gestures. He could communicate, but not verbally.

Ysmir showed off how loud he could be with a defensive sounding snort at the thought that Barenziah had to compensate for him in any way. Alright except for the getting lost thing, but they didn’t talk about that. His brows furrowed and he shook the gyrfalcon from her perch unceremoniously. He paid in the form of talon through flesh but it was a superficial wound at best. The raptor labored into the sky instead of just hopping to the ground. She didn’t take long to start soaring above them, acting as if she wasn’t keeping a very close eye on the boy.

Ysmir’s attention was fully on Iarlaith now, he stomped his foot challengingly. Those were fighting words and the boy wanted an apology or a spar to back them up.

He snorted. And Iarlaith snorted right back, though softer and more amused as the boy seemed to take offense, at once shaking free his bird-friend and planting himself. Iarlaith knew a challenge when he saw one. He didn't rise. He didn't do anything. His quirky little grin remained plastered on his muzzle, amused, though there was a sharp, telling gleam in his eyes. He wasn't interested in a fight. Didn't mean he'd apologize either. He wasn't sorry, and he didn't care if it rubbed the kid's fur the wrong way.

"Eh… you really wanna fight an old man?" His nose twitched, the half-smile on his face unwavering. He raised one paw, waved it, then settled it over the other. "Look, I'm not much of a fighter–" emphasis on the not much bit "–that was always my brother's area of expertise. And, well, he's not around, as you can see." Besides, Iarlaith preferred to talk his way out of things. "Me? Well, I'm a lazy old lump," he grinned toothily. He spoke in an altogether unhurried fashion, tail still swaying languidly behind him, clearing the snow under his rump.

"What do you figure happens if a lone wolf gets into to much trouble out here?" He waited momentarily, as if for an answer. The boy or the bird. Didn't matter. He knew now not to expect one. He chuckled anyway, shoulders rolling in an easy little shrug. Maybe he should tell the boy about the Big Bastard. Now that was a story. Thing was YUGE. Like, six times Iarlaith's size. That's how he was going to tell it, anyway.

"Speech"

Ysmir couldn’t help it, he rolled his eyes when Iarlaith called himself an old man. He was in the prime of his life, his father Chaos and Grandfather Valentine were like twice the strangers age and neither of them balked at sparring with the yearling boy. The stranger went one, his brother was the fighter. Then he mentioned being a lazy lump and a strained yelp that maybe kind of sorta could have been considered a laugh. Ysmir was laughing because it was true. That didn’t mean he was letting the old man off so easily.

He wished so badly that he could say ‘imagine what would happen to a wolf if they got too lumpy and lazy. They would be able to defend themselves or their dirty words.’ Ysmir was sure if there was a look for that expression it’d be on his face. The boy almost growled as he lowered his head, ill appeased by the stranger’s words. He wanted a real fight!

Ysmir furrowed his brow, the only trouble he saw out here was the disrespect he and his bird were given. Maybe he was being harsh, but it was only because he was starting to like Iarlaith more than he should.

Speaking of his brother, that was a look that would have been right at home on his face. Iarlaith didn't visibly balk so much as an ear twitched and his head rocked back and forth as if it had never bothered him at all. With the same nonchalant attitude he pulled himself back onto his paws. "You don't believe me?" he said as he rose, stretched in just the way he knew would cause his back to pop (it felt nice, but he wouldn't let the kid know that), and his back knee—still just a little stiff from his little, ahem, sparring session the other day to add a few pops of its own. "Listen to that," his smile never left, "I creak more than an old tree. Wouldn't be any fun, fighting me."

By that time, his grin was so wide it swamped his face. He stretched, fore and aft, ignoring how his back popped again.

That look. Just like his kid brother. A little endearing, a little annoying, but never really enough to rankle someone like Iarlaith… and ripe for the teasing. "You see any of those really giant wolves? All grunts and rumbles, don't do a lot of talking? I saw one a couple days ago," he chattered on casually, all the while planting his paws under him, just in case the kid did try anything. "Massive."

…the kid was, comparatively, small fry. But that wasn't what Iarlaith was getting at. It was story time. He hopped back a step, whirled to face his shield, and in one surprisingly agile leap, landed atop it. His paws slid only a little on the cold metal; its old surface was marked and marred by time, the little grooves providing ample grip under his rough paw pads despite the snow.

He turned to face the odd-eyed boy again. "Even standing up here," his voice lowered, "They're bigger." He looked for any indication the kid still wanted to fight. The boy did seem all on edge, and sure, if Iarlaith had to, he'd oblige, but he really didn't want to fight a kid. That'd be asking for trouble he definitely didn't want, or need.

"Speech"

Ysmir didn't believe him, any wolf that allowed age to slow them down was just weak willed. His own family was chalk full of ancient relics that were still fully ranked as warriors. The boy’s sire was himself nearly twice this man’s age. Besides, the fight wasn’t about fun anyway, it was about upholding his own honor. It really felt like the man was trying to weasel his way out of the consequences of his words and Ysmir did not appreciate it one bit. He snorted his displeasure again, but as Iarlaith changed the subject Ysmir knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the man.

The young viking was far from impressed as the man mentioned the massive wolves that had been creeping around with the long winter. He personally hadn’t seen them, and peered at Iar with a look of obvious disbelief. Unamused. Ysmir lived around giant wolves his whole life, Iar was probably just exaggerating to get his mind off the insult. His expression didn’t change, even as Iarlaith ascended the shield and proclaimed again the height of these beasts.

He’d gained a bit of his confidence after being confronted about being out here alone. His inner Finnvi truly showing itself as he placed his own dark paw on the ledge of the shield Iar had jumped to as he extended his long sharp claws before pressing his weight on the metal. Ysmir made an expression as if to say ‘so what’ where was Iarlaith going with all of this?