The last place that Oleander had taken him was a place called Soul Sand Cove. They hadn't spent much time there. From atop the dunes, at a distance, it was easy to see far and wide down the shore. What else was there to see? The question plagued his mind that afternoon after he finished a hunt, returning a few grouse to the larder. With time to spare, he decides that finding answer to the question would be now. Honestly, he couldn't tell you what drew him to the curving bay, but something did.

Perhaps it was the way the shore zig-zagged back and forth as if a giant shark had take a bite from the land. Or maybe it was the way the sand here was black. Fine, small granules that weren't the standard white or grey or tan. His toes wiggle in that soft sand as he pauses at the bottom of the dune, chin tilting downward to watch said toes wiggle about. Chuckling quietly to himself at the silly motion, Wilder finally looks upward and around at his surroundings. Aside from the wispy sea grass and occasional palm tree, there wasn't much to the black sand bay.

Or was there?

WILDER

Wylan trotted quickly along the dark sand. He didn’t spend as much time on the beach in Winter as he had in Summer. It just wasn’t worth coming out here when the water was freezing at best, and the fishing wasn’t great this time of year either. The fishing huts themselves sat quietly along the shore, tucked away from the tide.

There were the training rings along the sand of course, which admittedly, Wylan had been neglecting of late. No, he was here to fetch the meat from the smoke house for Ignita so she could tally up the inventory. Before he could reach the smokehouse however, he caught sight of a wolf he hadn’t seen before. Quickly forgetting his task, he slowed and grinned at the stranger. “Hello! New to the Armada?” He asked.


"Speech"

Wilder continues his little excursion and begins to notice the pack items that litter the cove's shores. Such things as the fish huts that sat back on the beach, all closed up for the winter. And if he were to look close enough, not much farther down, he would notice the sparring rings setup with wooden training dummies and weapons. Weapons? That surprises him and draws him closer until the sound of someone nearby catches his attention.

Stopping to look, he notices a wolf not much younger than himself with wings. Wings? Feathers? Is this the lad that Spider had mentioned? When said Feathers greets him, Wilder nods his head in return, closing the distance between them. "Howdy," he starts, bright red gaze glancing back at the wings for a moment before introducing himself. "Name's Wilder an' ye, I'm new to Armada," his muzzle nods to confirm the statement before he turns to be once more parallel to the water lapping at the sand.

"Min' if we keep walkin'? Came out to explore an' my muscles need a stretch," Wilder nods his muzzle out toward the sparring rings and fish huts as a goal for where he wanted his stroll to take him.

WILDER

Wylan grinned a little wider at the other wolf. He spoke a little funny, but that was okay. “Hi Wilder, I'm Wylan!” He said trotting closer and lightly tapping the other wolf on the shoulder with a wing in greeting. “Sure” he agreed easily, starting up again. Keeping whatever pace the other wolf wanted as they headed forwards. The other nodded first towards the fishing huts, which sat back away from the shore, and the training rings. Which were pegged off sections that sat where the shore could wash under the barrier and sweep it clean. “Let's head towards the training rings” he agreed, assuming the look was a question of which direction they should head.


“I think I see some weapons left out, I better grab them and put them back in the training cave before they rust.” He said with a sigh. “Have you been up there yet? It sits in the mountain between the beach and the Col.” He explained, his tail starting up behind him.

The boy's wing reaches out to bump him on the shoulder. At first, Wilder wants to freeze. The wild, feral inside of him rearing its ugly head at the unexpected touch of someone else. But the logic, the intelligence, inside of his brain puts down a heavy paw to stop him. His smile is hesitant though, a nod in greeting to the boy as they begin to stroll along the sandy shore. Focusing on his paws moving him forward instead of the twisted emotions inside of him, he lets his gaze wander.

A cloudy sky hides the sun, making it near impossible for him to tell what time of day it is. At least here, in pack lands, that didn't matter so much anymore. As long as he was back in his den by sunset, he had nothing to worry about. So he keeps pace with Wylan, their legs a similar length making it easy to not hold back his stride.

Wilder's expression does scrunch slightly, confusion lighting his eyes as they draw closer to the swords left out. It was something he had never seen before. Now, he understood that pack wolves were well-trained fighters, but he had no idea that they fought like that... with weapons. Were their claws and teeth not good enough? "No, I ain't," Wilder replies, gaze drawing up toward the north where a trail led to where Wylan had mentioned. At least navigating through the pack lands was easy. There were trails that led to everywhere anyone ever needed to go.

“Come with me and check it out?” he suggested easily, his voice warm and welcoming. He was also keen to get to know new wolves in the pack. Wilder had decided to make the Armada his home, and Wylan wanted to make sure he enjoyed being here.

He reached down and grabbed the weapons, bundling them up and stuffing them into the pouch which he was only carrying so he could store the smoked meat, because he was supposed to be heading to the smokehouse. Oh well, there’d be time for that later. “It’s not far.” Wylan added, nodding his head back the way he had come. “And it's the fastest way back into the Col, so it’s useful to know.”

"Speech"