Late Summer – Midday – Overcast & Cool As the season progressed there had been several days that hinted at a true Borean summer, though to say so with confidence seemed a bit impudent. It was still unseasonably cool, no matter how pleasant and mild the day found her, and this one was no different. It was overcast and dimly lit with clouds instead of smoke choking the sun but Thistle didn’t appreciate the conditions any more for it. It did not rain or drizzle, but she found herself in a mood all the same. Thistle grumbled, even as she sidled up to a rough-barked spruce, practically fashioned by the gods as the ideal scratching post. She rubbed her flank along its trunk, grumbling through what might have otherwise been a delighted sigh. She was in a mood, godsdammit, and she intended to maintain it. After all, it had been two days since she’d last found a substantial meal and even at noon the day was gray so she felt a bit entitled. Slowly but surely Thistle began to make her way south and west. A half day’s travel here and there, the occasional late night holing up long after the sun had set, and she slowly began to feel the effects of the new climate. It was drier, warmer, and of course the flora around her began to change as well. Thistle moved her mind from hunting hare to hunting jackrabbits, from voles to prairie dogs. The sun did not stay in the sky for quite so long, but then again, she hardly had time to notice. Thistle found herself missing the constant and reliable comfort that the caves of the north had provided her. Each night in the west found her scrabbling for makeshift shelter, often little more than a dug out badger hole or a depression dipping low enough to keep her out of the wind. The tundra was traded for red soils and sand, and day by day Thistle found herself missing the north. There’s bound to be something worthwhile here, she told herself. One more day. Only, it had been several days now, and that found her grumpy and… Squirmy. Which to those unfortunate few who could claim to know her well meant mischief was likely hot on her heels. Nature and origin yet undetermined, but mischief all the same.

Eyrun Finnvi was far from displeased at the thought that the rest of the summer might be cool and gloomy. The sun had never really been a friend to her anyway; the lithe woman was quite fond of days like this, as a matter of fact. Somehow the grey skies seemed to counteract her normally quite unpredictable personality, causing her to be considerably more collected than usual. A relatively somber mood was unusual for her, something generally only seen by her closest companions - but today, she just felt good. It felt as though the gods were shining on her - in the not-quite literal sense.

Though her conversation with Eldi had reminded her just how font she was of lands that were not the west, she wouldn't spend too long dwelling on it. The last few seasons had been more than prosperous for them and the raid they were about to partake in would surely bring them another overwhelming victory. She was already certain of it. But until then? She had some time to kill, and it was more than enough for her own good.

Today the largest lake in the west - at least that she'd encountered - had caught her interest. Neither thirsty nor in need of a bath, she had little reason to stop and rest at the lakeside, but she decided to anyway. Perhaps catching a few fish might be in order? Though something larger, something that put up a bit more of a fight sounded equally as appealing. Sniffing at the dirt, she lumbered on, moving without much purpose... until the scent of someone caught her attention, and fluidly she turned to head in their direction, curious if someone else had an idea similar to hers today.

It was some time before Thistle found herself treading along the lakeshore. The vast body of water was calm and still, and while it was not hot enough by any means to necessitate a dip, she found herself wading up to her ankles all the same. Fishing had never been a strong suit of hers, but she was hungry. Perhaps this lake would not be as affected by the volcano's impacts as the land had been, as long as the ash had not acidified the water too drastically. Looking down at the swirling wakes her paws created, it seemed clear enough. She walked back onto shore and realized that perhaps she ought to be grateful for the cloud cover. She didn't want to be, but without the sun she would cast less shadow into the water, perhaps remain unseen for that much longer by the fish below. She was so focused on her task, and the gnawing complaints of her gut, that she did not notice a stranger appear along the lakeshore. A murky shadow lurked just before her, swimming lazily. It wasn't the largest fish she'd ever seen, but it would be enough. Carefully, with slow movements she approached the shore, angling herself so as to be out of the fish's line of sight. With a deft flick of her paw, she sent a few grains of pebbled sand scattering onto the surface of the lake. The fish turned, expecting an insect of some sort, and she lunged. The muscled body was more powerful than she'd expected, and although Thistle was able to heft the slippery bastard from the lake it still wrenched itself free and flopped onto the sand. With a gasp and a curse, Thistle dove after it. It might as well be dead already, puncture wounds and all, but if it died in the water she would scream. In her haste she got a mouthful of sand as well, but she triumphantly trotted a ways back onto the beach, fish in maw. Thistle gave it a fearsome shake, and let it drop. It wasn't until she looked up, panting now, that she saw the other female a ways down and looking in her direction. Shit. Thistle's brain stalled out for just a moment, running through the options. Perhaps she was friendly, but Thistle didn't trust like that. Yeah, maybe she was, but also maybe she wasn't. A lean summer made for mean creatures. They were very nearly the same size, but Thistle couldn't deny that she was weak from hunger on top of the energy she had just expended. If it came to a squabble over the fish, her odds certainly weren't great. Maybe she was overthinking this whole thing, but if she got to eat at least half of this damned slimy bastard at this point she would consider it a win. In the back of her mind a voice whispered its agreement, because making friends was, like... good, or something. "You hungry?" She called out, still panting a bit, waiting to see how the other female would respond, how this whole ordeal would fall into place. "Speech"

Trust wasn't something that Eyrun found herself easily giving, either. But company? That was something she could entertain, depending on her mood, and today she was feeling remarkably light. Upon further inspection she eventually found the source of the curious scent - a female who looked.. well.. strikingly similar to herself. They were very nearly the same size, their coat hues likely indistinguishable if they weren't near one another, though her markings were different enough that she didn't think she was about to face off with her doppelganger.

The stranger was going after a fish when she finally got a better look at her, diving straight into the shallows and then reeling back without anything to show for her efforts. Eyrun quirked a brow, studying her for a moment before Thistle turned to acknowledge her. Stealing her fish wasn't a scenario that played through her mind - certainly not because she wasn't used to stealing and thieving when it suited her. She was no rogue and Hjarrandi had been successful enough lately that fighting tooth and nail for food seemed beneath her. Wasting precious energy on scraps of grimy fish? No thank you. She had better ideas on how to expend her energy.

"Perhaps," Eyrun called out, not answering Thistle's question at all, not caring to. Providing proper answers wasn't exactly something she cared for doing. "Why, do you have something you think I'd like to eat?" Fish. Obviously she meant fish. But Eyrun let herself chuckle freely as if her question was deeply hilarious, slowly striding over to the lakeside to join Thistle, maintaining enough distance that the stranger likely wouldn't feel threatened. Her question was clearly not as pointed as Thistle's had been and she was amused at just what the other female might think of it... let alone how she'd answer her.

The stranger didn't advance or retreat at first, and wasn't showing any outward sign of aggression. As far as Thistle was concerned, this was a great start. She did, however, seem to eye her hard-won prize with a bit of disdain. Thistle couldn't necessarily blame her because if she had her druthers fish wouldn't be on the menu for her either, but dammit she was starving and exhausted and damp, and she was not about to be thought less of for eating what was available after several days without. "Perhaps," the woman's voice travelled to her. "Why, do you have something you think I'd like to eat?" Thistle used half of all the energy left in her body to restrain a scoff, or maybe a snort, perhaps a growl? She couldn't be sure, but whatever her noise of complaint might have been she did not let it loose. "Well," she began, saccharine and overly polite, "As you can see, all I've got here is this fish. I've not had a meal in a few days, you see, so I am quite hungry." She waggled a paw at the sandy, slimy excuse for fresh flesh. "Trying times, desperate measures and all that. If it doesn't suit your palate, more for me I suppose." Gods knew she needed all the calories she could get. Gods knew that every mouthful this ungrateful... ungrateful skank gobbled down her ungrateful gullet was a mouthful Thistle could have put to better use. Gods knew that being kind and generous was tough for Thistle sometimes, but she was working on it, and wolves like her didn't necessarily help! For all that she was fuming inside Thistle schooled herself into a blasé expression, picked the damned, blasted, grimy, gritty, pathetic excuse for a meal back into her jaws as the woman drew closer and carried it back to the lakeside to swish it about in the water and knock off what sand that she could. When it was satisfyingly clean she sought out a nice, flat rock to enjoy her meal upon. Thistle ripped into the fish's flank and tore back a strip of skin and scales to reveal the flesh below. Oh yes. She would make a meal of this. The best meal she would ever have, she decided. After all, spite was a wondrous additive to any meal and she would enjoy this bastard bass even if she choked on one of those infuriatingly tiny bones and it killed her. "Speech"

Eyrun wasn't quite sure how her question would land. Perhaps the stranger would think she was being flirtatiously suggestive, or maybe she'd take at as a threat - though it seemed more likely that she might be confused by her. Thistle landed somewhere in the middle, seeming a bit perturbed by her words, looking as though she'd swallowed something foul for a moment before she managed to speak. Following her chuckle, a look of amusement lingered, a barely reigned-in smirk now resting on her deceptively delicate features. "You keep your fish," Eyrun let out another loose laugh at her offer... or had it been an offer at all? It had seemed like a begrudging attempt to seem generous when she wanted to be anything but, though truthfully Eyrun didn't blame her. She could count the number of wolves she'd give a piece of her meal to, without a good price, on one paw... maybe it'd take two if she was feeling particularly kind, which she usually wasn't. "I'm after something less.. slimy, myself."

She watched with a raised brow as she carried her fish back to water, washing it off before hunkering down and beginning to feast. Her own movements were slow as she headed to the edge of the lake, peering into the murky shallows, though out of the corner of her eye she continued watching Thistle feast. "What do you think, hm? Worth the effort to catch that thing?" Grabbing a fish or two of her own sounded like a fine plan, certainly a better one than wrestling a mess of fish guts from a stranger's jaws, especially given how furiously she was eating that thing - it was hard to tell whether she was starving or simply trying to make a show of her meal. Either way, Eyrun was amused though not quite impressed with the display.