The climb had left him mostly exhausted, but the view was well worse the price his pads had paid. They were bruised and cut in a few places, scraped and sore. His pale coat was covered with dust and dirt, and he panted heavily in the summer heat. It was so bad here as it had been down south, but it wasn't quite as cold as the young brute was used to. He was of the north, the far north, where summer was the winter of other lands. His family pack had lived on the very outskirts of Ebony lands, in the taiga. He was used to towering sentinel pines and snow drifts so deep it was more viable to tunnel through them. There was still snow on the peak of this mountain, but no where else, and that was what had drawn him to it's summit. The roar of the waterfall had been a confusing surprise, as he had made his ascent on the opposite face, but coming upon the plummeting deluge Albion couldn't help but smile. It was a stunning sight. The water fall stretched out far below where he sat, where the snow melt had coalesced enough to form a stream. Even from this distance it's sound was immense and powerful. It rumbled in his chest and made Albion feel excited, as if he wanted to run and stretch his limbs. The young male smiled and stood, his tail wagging the slightest bit. He wanted to get closer, but the steep cliff face before him seemed all but impregnable. He'd find a way, though... or roll an ankle trying. He began searching for a safe path down. "Talk" "You" Think

The goddess had been continuing her hunt along common lands to find a place suitable to be her kingdom. If she was to wear a crown of gold then she had to have a territory to meet her requirements and so far, none of the lands were cutting it. She had gone to the lake just northwest of where she had been now. The climb had been relatively easy for her as she moved swiftly over the rocks, barely any scrapes to add to the list of causalities from the climb. When she approached the top, she noted something quite shocking. There was another wolf, badly beaten by the climb it would seem, on the peak. Her banner was high and raised in a rather regal manner as she slowly approached him. Her eye fell upon the disheveled man as she spoke cool and crisp words. ?Who is it in my presence?? It was asked like a question but it sounded more like a demand for a name. A goddess, a queen, had the right to know the name of the wolves around her and so that was what Slava was going to get from him. Her left brow rose slightly as her chest remained slightly puffed out in pride. Her posture screamed ?worship me?.

Albion froze in place, hackles rising. A chill came over him and he could not help but wonder why that voice sounded so familiar. It was not the voice itself, necessarily, but perhaps the accent. a hint of something familiar. It wasn't until he turned to face the intruder that he understood why. That face mask, the marks under her eyes... Anger bubbled up in his stomach. Where in the gods names were all these cursed Ebon nobles coming from? The second in as many weeks, and Albion was not happy about it at all. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to face her, displaying his own royal mask even if he lacked royal blood. His blood was scum, or so they would have him believe. No, he knew there was value in all wolves, even those without pompous pedigrees. "It's probably none of your business," Albion said cooly, refusing to give any substantial answer. It was not in his nature to enjoy haughty-taughty wolves, especially those who acted that way because of the false privilege their blood allowed. Better get out of here, he thought to himself, Before you go and start something again. He turned away from the fae and began to continue his trek. What would she make of him? He had all the marks of being well-born but he wasn't. Would she know that? It had happened before, ex-Ebony wolves coming upon him and lavishing the male with all the graces they thought he deserved. It made him sick just to think about it. "Talk" "You" Think

He turned to face her and she hid the shock that came with it in her eyes. The mask of the noble families, though he was certainly not a Xanilov. He was quite rude about it and she narrowed her eyes the slightest bit as she responded in a cool tone. ?I like to know the names of the wolves that share my company. I?m Slava Xanilov.? She spoke the name, hoping to cause some kind of reaction to the last name but the goddess did not emphasize it, as it was obvious he did not care about royal blood being in his presence. He let her tail wag slightly from side to side in a currently unthreatening way. If he made one wrong move then she was contemplating just attacking him for the blatant insubordination or even just lack of cooperation. ?You?re from Ebony. Must be nice, I never knew the homeland.? She said almost bitterly as he turned and walked away from her. She secretly hoped it might catch his interest.

Albion sighed, understanding that this fae would not be one to let go of anything easily. He bit back a groan and allowed himself on long blink before halting once more. He turned back to her let her finish speaking before responding in a dry tone. He said, "Albion Kierne-Volkov," and there it was. All out in the open. The King's bastard son, with another surname no one outside of his home valley had ever heard of. He was supposed to be lucky because he had known his homeland? It was no different than anywhere else, landscape excused. Golden blood was always so keen to glorify anything they saw as their own. Slava did not look much older than him, if in fact she was older at all, but being of royal blood (he was careful to keep his face dead of emotion, particularly anger) she would have had to flee where as he was able to stay out of the war. "It had hills," he said with a hint of mirth. "and valleys and trees. It was a land, creatures lived there. You're not missing much." Word of the coup had reached Albion after he had chosen to leave him. Commoners like him were rarely dragged into court matters, unless the royals were gathering brutes for a war. No, they'd left his pack well enough alone. Until now, at least. "Talk" "You" Think

The last name was one that Slava knew from only history and she could sympathize. He was a bastard just as her though she hid the fact by taking the Xanilov name, which was quite improper for her. She would leave such a topic away from the conversation but nod to him. ?It is a pleasure Albion.? She would say with the slightest dip of her head. She would no longer put this as a matter of regality and she would drop her regal posture so she might have a civil conversation with the wolf she supposed she was distantly related to. It was strange to see him wandering about, though she figured it had happened during the rebellion or something. She had been so sheltered within the pack that she had been raised in that she had no real understanding, though she had been told, about the treatment of the King?s bastard children. He spoke of the kingdom being nothing special and she frowned the slightest bit. "That was not how my parents described it. They were probably over glorifying the topic however." She conceded to the other wolf.

We all want something to hold in the night We don't care if it hurts when we're holding too tight Albion was a bit caught off guard by Slava's polite demeanor. He had expected something so different. Some of the steel in his gaze lessened, and his posture loosened. He let out a small breath and said, "It's nice to meet you too, I guess." She would pause a moment before going on. Albion couldn't help but grin. He was half tempted to ask her where exactly she was from, but the Xanilov's reign had been over a massive swath of land and the odds of him recognizing anywhere she might name were low. "I didn't exactly grow up in the heart of it all," he admitted. "My home pack was in the way north, nearly outside of Ebony land. We hardly ever had visitors outside our family." It had been nice, he remembered, and serene. But when his brother had come into the pack, when his grandfather had died and passed it on, it had been Albion's time to go. The snow had been there almost year round, though in summer it was more mush than drifts. Tall trees, ancient and wonderful, had dotted the sweeping mountains and valleys. He hadn't found anything like it since, never mind his searching. He would not pry into Slava's past, though by then he might have admitted to curiosity. She had already surprised him once, after all. "Speech," Think