His first day in Alacritis had been nothing short of eventful, but since then little had happened. True, he'd been here only a couple of days, but in that small expanse of time he had scarcely seen another soul. There were territory markers in the areas he'd been about, but he hadn't risked passing over their boundaries. He still didn't know how the mood of the land was, although if his spar had been anything to go by, they were ornery. Could have just been a northern thing. Autumn set the trees on fire, though here in the east there didn't seem to be a lot of snow. The eastern regions appeared to be more like a tropic than anything temperate, and he didn't quite know how he felt about it. True the lands were okay to look at, but other than that, he hadn't formed an opinion. Making his way toward the smell of salt, he assumed an ocean was nearby. Normally he didn't care much for oceans, because the salt content weighed down his fur and made him feel scratchy, and the sand was a nuisance all around. But it sounded like a good place to exercise his leg. In the days since the spar he had been ambling about with a pretty limp, reduced to easy prey or scraps, since he couldn't very well hunt. It wasn't showing physically, but he could feel the pangs of hunger steadily strumming in his belly. Sure enough, a few slow miles later, a wide expanse of blue opened up before his eyes. The bay was nice and secluded, and at the moment it appeared empty. He picked his way down onto the sand carefully, wincing with every step he took. But he knew there was therapy in the action. Much of his time had been spent in deserts, and warriors would take to the sands when they had to recover from injuries, strengthening the injured bones. But for now, physical therapy was far from the first thing in his mind. If he could get down to the wet sand, where it was much more firm, he'd be able to walk, and it looked like there was something washed up on the shore. Easy pickings, and he wouldn't have to worry about hunting. Much of it was picked away by the gulls, but he saw enough tell tale red remaining to look forward to it. His feet hit the packed down sand, and a sigh of relief breezed through his lips. Bringing his left foreleg to his chest, Alta?r hopped over to the carcass, sniffing it suspiciously. He couldn't tell what it was. It didn't look big enough to be a whale, more like a big fish. He had actually never seen either animal, only knew that whales wee supposedly massive sea dwelling behemoths with mouths the size of caves. But hey, food was food. He crouched down carefully over the remains, fangs cutting into yielding flesh as he began to take his fill.

Walk | Talk | Think

Things among the Snow Rogues had quieted down considerably, but within Mercianne's den they were a riot of activity. Six little sets of rambunctious paws wandered in and out of their home, six sets of hungry stomachs were in constant need of filling, and six fragile spirits were in constant need of her care. Of course, each of them was much stronger than she let herself believe; they were proving to her with each passing day that they were independent and brave, bold and ready to take whatever the world had to offer them. Only she seemed to be the one having difficulty coping with their new found independence now that they were free to leave the den.

Another large step was made in their favor this day. Not only had they been given free roam outside of their den - under the stipulation that they would not go far from the cove where they lived - but she had also left the area, leaving her children in the watchful care of those who remained of the rogue pack. Surely they thought themselves entirely free, their options limitless now that their mother was gone, but she hoped their good consciences, inherited from both herself and their father, would guide them rightfully. Not only was it a test of her trust in them, it was a test of trust in herself to have raised them well.

Even so, they were still heavily on her mind, their adorable little faces clouding her vision as she wandered south, past even the point where she had met the kind stranger, Knight Cloud, who had assisted her with a hunt and quickly taken an unexpected interest in her family. She had not seen him for some time, wondered occasionally what he might have been up to, but for the most part she was kept busy. Watching, intervening, assisting, worrying, consoling, leading. All of it was her life as a mother, and though she did not regret a second of it now that she found herself without them, not immediately needing to be mindful of half a dozen lives that depended on her, she felt oddly lost.

What did she do with her free time before? Where would she go merely for the fun of going there? It seemed like such a long time ago that she had been independent herself, only needing to be mindful of returning to her pack and presently missing mate by nightfall. Did she have a life before children? Yes. She had been a healer. She had been a friend to her leaders, a confidant to her absent mate. She had been trying to perfect her craft, or at least get as close to perfect as could be done. Just a little she missed that time, if only for the freedom that she had no idea would disappear so quickly when she gained a family. But feeling ungrateful for the lives she had been blessed with, the timid creature set aside those nostalgic thoughts and instead tried to focus in on the present.

She had free time again, and needed a way to spend it.

Perhaps it was an unconscious tug that she had felt toward the salty air of the coast, finding in it a familiarity tied in with the cove where she now resided. Whatever the case, Merci found herself drawn toward it, hearing before she could see it the rumble of the surf, the rush of the wind, and the occasional call of a gull. Her fluffy tail wagged behind her as she smiled, brown eyes already straining to peer through the dense growth where she could see the blue of the water and the glint of light reflecting off of its uneven surface as swells rolled about out past the shoreline. It seemed so calm, so isolated, so different from the cove back home, that by the time she reached the edge of the foliage and wandered out into view she was feeling comfortable and relaxed.

At least until she saw the figure hobbling along down the shoreline.

The dainty white wolf froze in her tracks at the sight of the other, already having assumed to be alone there on the beach. From the look of it, this wolf had already been here before her arrival; they were already much further down the beach than she presently was. It crossed her mind to retreat back into the heavier growth nearby, to hide and perhaps wait him out. Motherhood had intensified the natural caution that she held, particularly toward strangers. Being the sole parent to her children in the absence of their father, she could not risk leaving them orphaned, or putting them in danger by attracting the wrong kind of attention to herself and, by extension, them.

She was just about ready to turn away when she spared another glance toward the stranger and noted the curious motion to their movement. They looked, for all appearances, as if their foreleg was causing them trouble, favoring it while they hopped their way to a half eaten creature that they then proceeded to scavenge from. Or perhaps it was their kill? A sense of purpose that had been absent from her for months stirred as she watched the stranger eat, figures of plants already beginning to emerge from the recesses of her mind. Before she fully knew what she was doing, she was traveling down the beach to join them - him - her head low and tail slightly tucked as the reality that she was actually the one approaching the stranger sunk in. She only hoped the encounter would go well.

Not until she was fairly close did she speak, and that was only after she had slowed to a stop and paused for a moment to stare at him and work up the courage. "Are...are you hurt?" she managed to ask, her gentle voice quiet and concerned though not at all pushing for an answer. Mercianne could tell he was, but it was not in her nature to force treatment on those who would have readily gone without it. Nor did she wish to irritate or potentially anger him, still mindful of the lives that she had left alone back at the cove. "I can help...if you are." She shifted her weight a little upon her forepaws, ears nervously splaying to either side while her dark brown eyes moved from the wolf's injured leg, to his face, and back again, avoiding eye contact and hoping he might at least tolerate her inquiry enough to let her leave if he would deny her assistance entirely.

The taste of the scavenged meat was not nearly as satisfying as fresh kill, but at this point Alta?r had very few options. He couldn't run on this leg, and without being able to run, there was very little he could catch. Maybe a turtle, if he felt like messing with the shell, or fishing if he could find a spot to balance. But being native to desert country, he was a class C fisher or worse and would be hard pressed to gather a decent catch. So even though the texture of the meat was unpleasant and decidedly squishy, it's flavor comparable to a wet rat, Alta?r ate. He would only be reduced to this quality of life for a few weeks, perhaps less depending on how soon he could put any measure of weight on his leg. So absorbed was he in his meal and thoughts that the custard warrior didn't notice the timid female approaching from behind. It was only when the wind shifted and he caught her scent under the thick haze of salt that he reacted. A growl bubbled in his throat, more defensive than anything, warning the other to stay away from his meal. As unpalatable as it was, he was eating it and despite injuries, would defend it. But she spoke, and the caution in her soft voice cut the growl off like a twist of the tap. Turning his head, Alta fixed his gaze on Merci, gaze decidedly impassive despite his initial reaction. Was he hurt? Certainly a silly question, given the way his leg was pulled against his chest protectively. Ah, but perhaps she sought to protect his pride, in case he was the type to have a lot of it. For the moment he said nothing, continuing to size the pallid figure up. She decidedly exuded femininity, her stature submissive and gentle with a certain look in her eyes that made him wonder if she had pups. In some ways, she reminded him of Eloin, his own mother. She always had that slightly distracted look on her face, as though her mind were focusing on a dozen things at once, an undertone of worry constantly present that to this day he never understood. Of course, he was no parent. He couldn't comprehend the constant concern that lingered around the thoughts of one's children. His mother had once told him that the day she had pups, she surrendered all hope of sleeping ever again. He didn't quite get it, even now, but there were a lot of things Alta?r didn't understand, especially those that had a lot of feeling associated with them. ""I suppose I am," he conceded after a moment or two had passed. Licking his lips free of any blood that might have stained them, Alta?r straightened his posture in effort to make himself more presentable. "If you wish to. I'm not one to be so blinded by ego that I would refuse clearly needed aide. " he went silent again, seeming to consider his next words. If she wished to help him, background information would likely help, wouldn't it? "I was in a spar. My opponent's teeth caused the injury. I believe it may be sprained or broken but I am not certain." The report was short and bland, giving no more detail than needed. Taupe capped ears angled back slightly, the though the might be coming across as rude passing through his mind. He just wasn't a wolf of a terrible amount of words, particularly in situations such as this. Injuries were always treated passively by Alta?r, as he believed that a large part of pain was mental. If you let it get it you, allowed it to pain you, then quite simply, it would. "Thank you, Madame."