Living On The Wind

*Thistle* · 01-17-2020, 06:16 PM

Names were exchanged, and Thistle shoved down the immediate reflex to derisively sniff. Weren't they so fancy, with their surnames and whatnot. Thistle's homeland was so remote that her folk hadn't bothered with them. Packs were little more than family groups; parents with kids who hadn't yet left to find homes of their own, perhaps the odd aunt and uncle here or there. Thistle had met so few wolves before leaving home that there had never been a need to differentiate any further. It seemed to be a status symbol or something here in these lands, but she had never felt a need. Oh well. She could offer her name to be polite at least, and if she was lucky might come off as aloof or cagey for holding the non-details back. "And I'm Thistle. I don't meet many other wolves but you never know."

The male, Harbringr, seemed inclined to probe a bit further. Thistle realized quickly that this wasn't going to be a brief encounter, at least not by her definition. He wanted to know more, which she supposed was fine, but his query was a tricky one. Was she an explorer in the first place? Perhaps by some standards. Any snail who slimed its way a few dozen feet farther than the rest could be an explorer by those terms. For herself 'explorer' seemed a bit grand, and certainly neither a desire nor a necessity. "Actually I think I'm quite the homebody. I find a place that suits me and stay there until it doesn't. Sometimes for a season or two, sometimes for a day, but it all feels the same."

The female seemed instead captivated by the markings on the cave below. Thistle couldn't blame her; they were both marvelous and mysterious. Thistle had seen a few others of similar sort in other caves throughout the area. She had known a spare few who would dye their fur, but never a creature who felt the need to dye stone or leave some permanent trace to commemorate their existence in a place. As far as marking one's way along a trail, however... "My kin used to build stone stacks and the like. Scratch marks on trunks and logs where herds gathered, piled stones and sticks to mark river crossings, you know. I haven't seen anything similar here, but I'll admit it was convenient. Those markings though, I have no idea." Thistle couldn't bring herself to be overly concerned with creatures who were not in direct competition with her. Whatever they were, whatever the markings had once meant, it didn't really seem like her problem. She had better things to focus her energy on, but she wasn't about to voice that opinion to the odd-coated Aerndis.
"Speech"

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