The night air was cold, the breath fogging from Ronan's lips as he exhaled. What felt like endless nothingness stretched out before him, sand dunes rising and falling like ocean waves. This was what he'd always imagined the end to look like, no sense of being or even landmarks to situate himself- on the edge looking in, he knew few wolves ventured out in this direction for a reason. That it was far safer to skirt around, avoid the literal death trap and extend the journey by a few days or so.

Sand. Coarse and rough and it got everywhere, right between his toes, rubbing against the inside of his claw sheaths. He made a face, pacing along the summit of the dune, greenery behind him and nothingness ahead. At least the sky was nice out here, splashes of colours and shining bright stars- not a view he was familiar with back in the city. Or what was left of the city anyway. Something was wrong with the air back there, foggy and polluted, clear nights a rarity. But here?

Well, he could see the constellations for starters, not that he knew their names.

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It had been a long time since Veigar had gone far from Insomnia's lands, but with the raven he'd accidentally befriended - if that was even the word for it - he found his capabilities growing further and further. The bird had been drawn to him and seemed to never be far off. If Veigar called he would come, and he'd help orient him, at least to help him find his way back home if he needed assistance.

Getting lost wasn't impossible for the blind man, though it was growing less a possibility each day. And moving at night, strangely enough, seemed to help him navigate. The world was quieter, void of many of the distractions that persisted through the daytime hours. Not that he suspected these sand dunes were ever really bustling with life - they seemed as desolate as anywhere he'd ever been, all sand and rolling hills. He wasn't sure how far the land stretched on, but it seemed endless, at least as far he could tell.

At least out here coming across a stranger seemed unlikely... though it wasn't surprising that Veigar's luck was shit. His raven circled overhead, nearly invisible in the dark night sky, though when he spotted Ronan he let loose a chilling call that signified Veigar of the presence of someone. The bird's calls weren't particularly unique, but he'd learned to distinguish a few sounds that spelled out things that could be useful to him. One spoke of danger. One indicated a stranger. He seemed to be always watching him, protecting him, and Veigar was thankful.

Raising his head, he located the source of the scent and followed it. Why was someone out here, anyway, he wondered? It was unlikely a stranger was here for the same reason as he was, but he was curious nonetheless. With his growing confidence, he found himself more intrigued by the wolves who crossed his path. He'd never been the social type, but he was done hiding away in the shadows to wither away. "What are you doing out here?" He called out once he was hopefully within earshot to the male, his voice mostly conversational, though his tone was always a little strange - a little on edge and a little uncertain.

Movement caught his eye, a lone scarab crested the ridge, the moon reflecting off the dark sheen of its carapace. The bug was larger than he'd expected, scuttling quietly as it moved to scale down the other side of the dune, going wherever scarabs went. His eyes then caught sight of the bird flying above, not a native to this area, or at least he assumed since he didn't think ravens were desert dwellers. He pressed on, noticing the bird was hanging back somewhat, perhaps scouting?

He inhaled deeply, catching nothing but the grainy edge of sand and...what he could only really describe as the passing of time. Not old and rotting, but ancient, almost. The night had been mostly still, the wind absent till a strong waft of it blew in his direction, making his eyes squint against it. That's when he caught the stranger's scent, that of a wolf, not a loner like himself but not so social that too many other scents clung to his form. He was on the move once more, intent on meeting the stranger in the middle.

Following the ridge of the dune, it wasn't quite a straight line, but twisting like silken fur. Shaped by the wind, like an artisan's work they were constantly fiddling with and adjusting, never able to get it just so.

It was there he spotted the stranger, the greeting offered to him not even that really. A probing question, Ronan didn't exactly feel compelled to answer.

"Could ask the same of you. Nothing out here but sand and ruins."

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The dark world he'd slowly, painstakingly, grown accustomed to was quite a strange one. Here he walked alone, regardless of who might be around him, in a world only he inhabited. He always walked this world alone. It was as alienating as it was freeing; though the former was what usually consumed him. He had to be careful, always, but with his raven companion he was finding that his world was growing larger and larger by the day. He didn't need to fear finding himself completely lost and helpless... not that he ever went without at least some of those worries swirling around in his mind.

Given the desolate state of the landscape, keeping track of what was going on around him was hard, even in the quiet of night. The movement of paws against sand wasn't quite as audible as they might be if they were moving over dirt or grass. His head was bowed low, ears perked high and swiveling to try to keep track of where the stranger might be.

His voice gave Veigar a better indicator of his position, and he moved accordingly, orienting himself in a position that made more sense. He was constantly trying to disguise his disability for what it was, not wanting it to be taken as an immediate weakness. Always tilting his head toward who he was speaking to, always trying to look like he could see even if his hazy, unfocused eyes told a different story if anyone looked at them close enough.

Veigar just hummed, almost thoughtfully, though he didn't disagree with Ronan's statement. "Scouting," he answered simply, not entirely the truth but not completely a lie either. "I don't live far from here. I wanted to see what was out here." And what had he found, exactly? Just sand and more sand, for as far as his paws had taken him.

Scouting? He supposed that made enough sense, he didn't know enough about the packs of this land to say who lived where, or even who was who for that matter. For all he knew everyone got along all chummy, or hated one another's guts and things were teetering on the edge of war. This place would remain the same either way, wolves couldn't shape the landscape in the same way those who came before had. And a right mess they'd left things in too, he didn't want his end to be like that. The world ought to just forget, like he'd never been here at all.

And sand sure was good at covering up the past, constantly shifting and reshaping the landscape. Even their paw tracks would be gone within the day, their scent brushed away with it. What few creatures called this land home were no doubt nomadic, there was no use staking claim to a sand dune, not when prey was constantly on the move, looking for whatever and what little plant life that grew in these parts.

The lighter parts of the strangers pelt blended in well with the sand, the flecks of light like the stars above. Ronan did notice the other's eye movements were off somewhat, no direct eye contact, but he assumed it was more of a personal quirk than just hounding on the fact he was blind. His own eyes blinked more often here, bits of sand and dust making it rather unpleasant to keep them open for too long.

"Not much from the looks of it. If there is anything worth finding anyway, it's further in than I'd care to go. Wolves die looking for what ifs, maybes."

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It was a difficult thing, trying to make sense of the world around you when you'd grown so accustomed to the darkness. Veigar had been blind for long enough now that he was beginning to forget just how difficult the most ordinary things were for him - this was simply his life and he'd grown used to doing things a bit differently than others. Moping around feeling bad for himself over it and remembering just how difficult things were for him was something he'd finally grown out of. He could've either kept rotting away, all alone in his misery, or he could become something greater - and he'd chosen the latter.

Not that he necessarily knew what greatness looked like. It just sure didn't look like whatever he'd become, a scrawny, bony looking wretch. Though he'd been getting better at hunting and taking care of his basic needs lately, even without his sight. His fur was growing healthier by the day, regaining its usual shine, and he'd begun to fill out his frame again, no longer looking as ribby as he had for so long. For a moment he wondered just how he looked to this stranger; he didn't think about how others looked as often anymore, at least beyond the basics. This wolf was clearly male, his voice full and strong, making Veigar think he was physically healthy and possibly well-built.

He hummed soft acknowledgement. "That what you're out here looking for, then? What ifs?" He wasn't even sure what exactly Ronan meant by that but he could guess. Brows furrowed tightly, unseeing eyes narrowed as he tilted his face toward him. "You don't think any of that's worth dying for?" Veigar wasn't so sure he agreed.

"What, potentials?" Ronan was not a gambling man. He weighed up his options and regardless of how it made him feel, the guilt and pressure of it all like cement filling his lungs till he felt like he was choking- he exhaled, shoulders hunching.  

He didn't always like what he had to do, but he knew he had to be the one to do it.

"No I don't. And anyone who does is hopelessly naive." Bitterness bled into his voice, his lips curling as he flashed some tooth.

But why was he out here? The quiet he supposed, a moment to just look out at the world, the vastness of it and not feel like it was crushing him. Everything, everywhere all at once. He was out here scouting though, Ronan looked at him again, followed his line of sight and couldn't quite place where he was looking, what distant dune had his attention.

"You're scouting, you said. What would your pack gain from you risking your life to maybe find some shallow pond of water no one else has discovered. Anything out here isn't worth the risk, it can't be."

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If Veigar was anything, it was observant - without sight he had to be. He couldn't justify not paying attention to the details some wolves easily overlooked, or maybe just didn't care about at all. Like the biting tone Ronan had taken on suddenly, not that he'd been overly friendly to begin with, but it seemed his patience was wearing thin... even without Veigar trying to grate on him at all. He'd just been talking, trying to pretend like he was any other wolf wandering across these dunes. Ronan's reaction to his presence was interesting, if nothing else.

He personally had lost too much to not want to wonder what else there could be out there, even if he'd grown hardened and cynical enough to not expect much more than what he'd already experienced. Maybe someday he'd find something though that would give him some insight into the darkness that had once plagued the land, that had stolen his sight from him. Or maybe he'd find nothing at all. In the end, he wasn't sure it mattered either way.

"Mm," he mumbled plainly, acknowledging the stranger's words but not really bothering to respond to them. "Not sure it's any of your business what my pack might gain or not gain by me being out here. Though I guess it isn't my business why you're here either." Though Ronan could've said as much if he had a problem with the question. Veigar very nearly cracked a grin, though it seemed verging on an expression of aggression rather than friendliness. Strange, like so many of his movements and expressions tended to be, often just not quite right.

"I don't think much about risks these days. Either I'll die or not," he said plainly. He had every intention of living, which was why he'd crawled out of his pit of self-loathing and misery after wallowing in it for so long, but he didn't tend to think his fate was entirely in his hands. The long night had taught him that much. "It'll take a lot more than some sand to finish me off," he sneered after a moment.