Another day, another long patrol. She preferred to take them herself more often, leaving the border patrols for Yfir's members to take. This was partly to assure herself of the information she received, partly to stay in shape, and partly simply to get away from pack lands since she so rarely chose to leave otherwise. It seemed lately that no matter where she went near her territories, this Ivalice pack was encroaching upon her. One dark lip curled, all the reaction she would allow herself as she trotted along through the pines. Passed here, she would have to go further west, away from the other packs, simply to scout in places that did not already have this pack's presence laid upon it. It was infuriating, partly because this was the direction from which Yfir could expect danger, the direction they most needed to guard, and Ivalice blocked much of their access and greatly curtailed their activities. It put her on edge to have this enemy buffer between her and the lands she would lead her wolves to raid - they were much too close to the one place Yfir would not have to cross a wide river to access the south. It put Yfir in danger to pass them by, and more, it put them in danger to simply leave their packlands unguarded at all. She would need to split her pack's forces to the extreme to both leave a large enough guard and also send out raiding parties. She would need to learn more of this pack, to learn if it was a one that would take advantage of a lean guard to attack, if it was another one such as Arian, or one that simply kept to themselves.

He wasn't quite certain about his mother's pack yet. The laws, the customs... even the ranks. It was all so unfamiliar to him, and his disliked it very much so. The change was not welcome, though he had no choice. The give no names rule made him feel the most uneasy; why would there be such a rule in place? If one sought to harm one of Ivalice's members, it would be within good reason, right? After all, what was the point of harming someone without reason? Of course, it could happen - but in that case would it not be better to let the pack know about that individual in particular? It was as if his mother was harboring someone who was sought after. It made him deeply perturbed. Who was this person? What did they do to warrant such a rule to be specially put in place for them? Of course, it could simply be that he was overthinking it all - that there was no such person, no such circumstance.

But he trusted his instinct too much for that.

Sighing heavily, he gazed up at the trees around him. They were intertwined in such a peculiar way; they just begged to be climbed, and with little hesitation he would jump upon the trunks, stepping quite carefully to climb a bit higher. Already, beneath the canopy, he could see the forested area all around him, and he grinned, tail wagging. It was then he scented the other wolf, and his head tipped in curiosity. With that other scent was also the scent of the pack that bordered Ivalice, and it quite piqued his curiosity.

Scrambling down the trees, he headed in the direction of the wolf, a woman, and soon enough she was in sight. A slight woman, but not a weak one. She had a warrior's walk, a warrior's build - he had seen that confidence before. He dipped his head to her. "Greetings," he called out, neutral enough, even on the cheerful side. He got a good vibe from this woman, and he definitely trusted those vibes.

"Lykos"

The appearance out of the forest of the dark-coated youth wasn't enough of a surprise to set Katja back on her heels, but thanks to the wind's direction she'd had only a moment's notice as the crunch of pawsteps in snow and rustle of underbrush announced his approach. She halted her own forward motion far enough away that she did not have to crane her head to stare up at the youth. He was of a size with Laufey, and the former Imperium alpha, but he was still clearly not at his full adult build. A yearling, then, and one displaying a neutrality that was quite respectable. No prancing up with tail wagging as though he were some fool pup, no cowering, no aggression. "Heil," she returned his greeting, though she allowed no hint of her approval at his manner to leech through into her expression, particularly once she caught the scent of Yfir's new neighbors on his coat. "You seem to have wandered from your pack lands, Ivalice. I trust you are not lost already." She didn't allow that earlier approval, but neither did her observation hold any threat to it, though a hint of irritation at yet more Ivalice intrusions tightened her brow slightly. Still, better to have found this respectful young male wandering here rather than something more... irritating. It could have been yet another Adravendi.

She was absolutely calm, unruffled, and neutral, and Lykos definitely liked that. It made a smile come easy, and the curiosity strike hard as she spoke, her voice roughened by a peculiar accent. Heil, she said, and it was quite the interesting word. It was easy enough to know what it meant - it was a greeting, of course. "Heil," he murmured, echoing her. "What is this language you speak, if you don't mind me asking? It..." How to describe his interest? "It is strong-sounding," he concluded with. He felt annoyed; that was the best he could come up with to describe the vibe he got? Hmph. Pathetic. Still, she would continue speaking, and was quite amused at her tone. It wasn't aggressive in any way, but it was almost a challenge of sorts. It was clear that she didn't approve of Ivalice, at least to him. That was... interesting. "No more than you are," he answered simply, though not hostile at all. The packlands were not home. That was, however, not exactly an appropriate thing to say in front of a stranger, let alone a stranger whom was part of a neighboring pack. He was not quite so bound to Ivalice as he perhaps should have been - or so he thought. He felt the urge to wander more, specifically to this land in between. He was the heir, true, but his heart and mind did not quite understand that yet. The tone would change from coolness to curiosity once more, as he asked a question that was rather bothering him: "Say, what is the name of your pack? I know yours borders Ivalice, but that is all I know." It was clear that it bothered him; he definitely didn't like not knowing at least the name of the bordering pack.

"Lykos"

The boy returned her greeting, though it sounded more questioning than anything, and indeed followed it with a question on the origin of the word. She tilted her head slightly, but she saw no harm in an explanation to satisfy his curiosity. "It is norse. Taken in its literal form in your tongue it would mean healthy, but a better translation would perhaps be more a wish for your good health. It may be more proper to greet a close friend as 'heil ok sæl', health and happiness." There was far more to it than that, the concept of frith, of the virtues that all her kind strove for, a more deeply ingrained meaning behind greetings than simple casual politeness, but frith did not require her to teach this stranger such things. She did incline her head in acknowledgement of his barb about being no more lost than she was. A point in his favor, then, for while she was no child - as these strange Ardent wolves insisted on considering their yearlings so - she was indeed beyond her own borders. Was he, too, patrolling the lands beyond his pack's lands, or simply wandering out of curiosity? Perhaps more one than the other, as he then asked about her pack. She eyed him with cautiously narrowed gaze, but her pack's name was hardly a secret to be kept. "We are called Yfir," she stated simply, seeing no need to elaborate as that was all he had asked, though perhaps more questions were implied. "Talk" "You" Think

The woman answered his question, and not just vaguely, either; she gave a long explanation that gave him even more information than what he requested! He listened eagerly, soaking up the information much like a sponge - he liked this language, yes, and he did want to know more of it. It was the first language other than Common he had heard, and he was determined to be able to communicate with all wolves, even if technically he already sort of could via body language. "That is interesting," he mused aloud. "I like how Norse has an actual meeting for the greeting instead of just an empty acknowledgement of someone's presence. Do all words have a meaning like this? I know many words in Common simply... don't have any meaning."

On top of that, she acknowledged his return comment, something that pleased him. This woman seemed quite the respectable wolf. When he questioned her pack name, she did something unlike what she did with the language; she gave the bare-bones information... but that was alright. It was, after all, all he had been looking for. He nodded his thanks. "Thank you." Pausing briefly, he realized that they were not introduced to each other, and he sought to remedy that. "Ah, yes, introductions. I am Lykos Ancora. It is truly a pleasure to meet you." If she wished not to reveal her name, that would be fine as well.

It was then he also realized - this woman might know of Vereux. Anger flashed in his eyes at the thought of the man; no, his mother was certainly not the most intelligent wolf when it came to picking a mate. Determination filled his eyes as he sought to meet Katja's. "Pardon this abruptness, but... do you happen to know of a man called Vereux?" Yes, he'd find out sooner or later this man's past. Hopefully sooner... and hopefully this wolf did not mind his inquiry.

"Lykos"

The boy seemed to marvel at the beautiful complexity of the language, but at his question she simply shrugged. "Most do. It is no more my native language than is what you call Common - most of my knowledge of the language came to me as a yearling rather than a child. My family mostly speaks a language you would call German, which does indeed have a word for everything."

He thanked her for her information, scant as it was, and gave his name. Politely, Katja tilted her muzzle in acknowledgement. "I am Katja Finnvi. It has certainly been more of a pleasure to meet you than I would have expected," she added with blunt words and a thoughtful twist to her muzzle. She would not have expected to find this polite, curious young warrior from such a pack.

His next words, however, instantly put her hackles up and showed a glint of ivory within her muzzle. Vereux. "I am familiar with Vereux Armada," she rumbled in what was far closer to snarl than may have been entirely fair to the boy, who was not the wolf she wanted to snarl at. "He was a member of my pack, and chose to betray us after I put forth great effort to teach him and welcome him. He is an honorless cur and a spy," she spat. A sharply drawn breath as she forced down the rage, and schooled herself to regard the boy with less rancor.

He nodded slowly to her words, humming thoughtfully as he pondered them. So, she knew three languages, at the minimum. Common, Norse, and this German. That was certainly something to be admired and envied; he more than mildly wished he knew more than one language. It was definitely something he respected, though even if this woman hadn't shown her intelligence, he had a feeling he would have respect for her simply by her mannerisms and how she held herself - very regally, with a cool confidence that did not stray into arrogance.

Delight flickered in his eyes as she returned his introduction with her own name, though his head tilted quizzically at her latter words. More than expected? The words were certainly an... interesting choice, though Lykos wouldn't call her out on them nor question them. It might be because she didn't expect someone of his age to be polite, and certainly - had it been his brother Dragon that she was meeting, she would undoubtedly not be pleased at all.

His eyes widened as his curious question was met with a controlled fury. Katja's hackles rose and she practically growled her words. Still, he stood his ground, though he had to admit - this woman was terrifying. He was very, very glad that this anger was not aimed at him... though what the hell had Vereux done to cause this sort of a reaction? It was only moments before he found out, and his ears flattened at her words, anger pricking his gaze. "What?" Shock colored his voice - while he did not trust Vereux and found him to be a rather... dishonorable sort who sought after his mother solely for power, he did not expect this. He didn't expect Katja of Yfir to know of him at all. He'd simply asked to make sure he covered all bases, all possible sources of information.

He was in utter disbelief, and it was clear from the stiffness in his limbs, and in his eyes. How could anyone do that? To pledge loyalty to a pack? To learn, and to be welcomed... and to throw that back into the face of the one who welcomed him? And to... to spy? It was absolutely unfathomable to the young wolf, and he shook his head. "How?" he whispered softly. How could anyone do that? If... if he were to ever do that he'd not be able to live with himself, not that he could ever imagine him ever doing that.

Shaking the shock off, he felt the anger and frustration rise in him, and he growled low in his throat. "And this is the man that my mother has accepted as her mate." How could she? Was Vereux the reason for the stupid rules she put in place? Without realizing, his gaze drifted to the ground, and Lykos snapped it back to Katja. With the amount of anger and rage in her voice, Lykos believed that she may be looking for him. "And now he is in mine." Coldness seeped through his bones as he let out a deep breath. He was right not to trust Vereux. Absolutely, unfailingly correct. And on that same note, how to phrase his next question? She didn't seem the sort to want revenge... but... retribution, maybe? "Do you seek to inflict retribution?" Should this answer be affirmative, that would certainly be reason enough for his mother to be protective over this vile creature and to instate rules of speaking of no-one beyond pack borders...

"Speech" | Think

"Then I pity your mother for her bad judgement, and for her sake I hope she did not know of his actions before taking him in," she rumbled, resisting the urge to pace in irritation. That Vereux could have slipped in so easily to another pack did not surprise her much. Few packs seemed as suspicious or demanding of their members as Yfir, frankly, so it likely would not be an issue to infiltrate one. But that lack of surprise didn't dispel the sour, resentful feeling that curdled within her that he would have rolled from his betrayal of Yfir right into a neighboring pack, as though taunting her.

She shook herself sharply as though shaking water from her coat, but it did little. "How did he betray us?" She fixed him with a hard silver eyed stare. Well, her people were storytellers by nature, after all. "Yfir was once a pack called Ebony, led by a close friend of mine. When she left, I was left as regent for the pack until her children came of age," she began, giving the very bare bones of the story that he would understand how Vereux came to be in Yfir. "Her son Kassander was the last leader of Ebony, and rather than destroy the pack when he could no longer be king, he called for me and requested I lead them. Vereux was already among their ranks at that time - as I understand it, he had been taken in my Kassander when he was ill, or perhaps injured. I never cared to know the details... perhaps I should have." She paused broodingly for a moment. She prided herself on her observations, yet she had not even made the effort to know many of her members before accepting them. So many had betrayed Yfir, so many that may have been prevented with a little care.

"Among my pack the elite warriors swear an oath to put the pack before themselves, before any families they may form. Vereux wished to become a warrior, and so swore that oath before the gods. When it became clear that he did not fully understand the obligation that oath laid upon him, I gave him the opportunity to dissolve his oath without prejudice. He refused, saying he wished to learn more of my culture and religion that he could live up to his oath. He wanted - " and here her muzzle twisted in a grimace - "to be adopted into my family, as he did not wish to be counted among the Armadas. I refused, as in my culture it is obligate that we honor the family we are born into, but I did undertake to teach him. It was a mistake. He disappeared with that knowledge without a word, and never again returned to Yfir. A pack appears suddenly against our borders, and I just happen to find the traitorous mongrel's scent among them. And you no more knowledgeable of his past as I once was."