[ooc]For Siggy, but open to another[/ooc]

Dusk was falling across the lands when the monochrome wolf finally slowed her steps. The grasses that rolled out before her had a familiarity to them, the way the wind whispered through them like a long forgotten lullaby.

Hush, hush...

The Archer child bristled, shame and guilt twisting in her gut until it was all she could do to suppress the urge to wretch all over the ground. The act of subtly lowering her head to ease the nausea was enough to bring the distant mountain into focus, silhouetted against the setting sun.

For a moment, it was enough that her guilt was forgotten, the lash licking at her heels subsided, for all she didn’t want to stay in this place that reminded her so much of her folly. After all, she had been thinking of them all. They just failed to see it that way. The haste of youth had thwarted her grand scheme in the end, but it wasn’t a lesson she would soon forget.

The looming (mountain?) brought to mind whispers of stories from her youth, both her mother and Cela, and even father had spoken of the before, of the place her eldest siblings were born, and somewhere it seemed Odin one day wished to stake a claim, but lacked the backbone or the brains. Whitestone...?

She tipped her nose towards the horizon, grey eyes finally finding her yearling companion, and wondering how much longer it would take Vareth to catch them up. “We should go check that out...” It would probably take them until early morning to reach it if they stopped now to rest. Sedna had been pushing hard up until this point after all, but she didn’t want her brother mad at her for killing his kid because she was too undisciplined to keep up.

There was an untamed confidence in her stride as she trailed beside her aunt, taking in all of the sights and scents this new land had to offer. So far she had found that it wasn't much different from everywhere else. Grass was grass, stars were stars, but regardless of their familiarity, she hoped that she might find the excitement she was so poorly lacking back home. A mischievous sparkle fluttered through her gaze at the thought.

She noticed Sedna's gait begin to slow almost immediately, being that she had been trying to keep up pace with the monochrome woman. Though dusk was upon them, she had felt content enough to move through the night, so it was strange that her aunt would want to stop now. With curiosity playing on her features Sigrun rounded on her aunt, catching the subtle way her head dipped. The similarities this place held to the places she'd heard stories about were lost somewhere in her excitement, so she offered only the a slight raise of concern in her brows before allowing them to smooth over once more.

As Sedna's muzzle tipped towards the horizon Sigrun's gaze followed. Peachy eyes narrowed as the yearling finally caught sight of... a mountain? It was too far away to be sure, but what else could it be? Well, there was only one way to find out. "I'm down." She confirmed her statement with an excited bounce from one paw to the other, and the broad wag of her tail.

Sedna watched the yearling dance from paw to paw from the corner of her eye. If Sigrún wasn’t aware of her limits, the older wolf was more than willing to help her learn. Though pushing her too hard would slow their travels for the coming week... Maybe then Var would finally catch up?

At least the meadow before them carried plenty of the heady scent of prey... How long had it been since they had eaten more than stolen carrion? And she was sure they could find water without too much of a struggle surely. The Archer-Lyall covered the growl of her stomach with one from her chest and smirked at the younger woman. “Oh yeah? Wanna make it a race?” She fully expected the younger wolf to charge forward, not realising the flatness of the land before them would take many hours to cover in all actuality.

With a put upon yawn and a stretch that popped the bones in her neck and down her spine she steadily trotted at a ground eating pace in the direction of the rising horizon, towards the setting sun, as the first stars of the night began to twinkle their way into existence at her back.

Though she might not have had the muscle built up for such an arduous journey she certainly had enough cocky confidence, and yearling energy to make up for it. (she might have had more if they ate better, but being that the girl wasn't the most experienced hunter she had no business complaining) That, coupled with a disdain for complaints certainly made Sigrún a ticking time bomb. Either she'd survive it, or she'd drop from exhaustion. It couldn't be helped, and she couldn't be bothered to care either way.

She met her aunt's growl with the slight dip and turn of her head, hinting at mischief though she decided against it. "Loser finds dinner?"

Sigrún rolled her eyes and huffed at the show Sedna made of yawning, but the laugh that fell from her lips was genuine.  There was no way she was going to win, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. The yearling burst into a run, hoping to get a lead on the silver wolf straight out of the gate. Perhaps she should have thought to conserve some of that energy, but once more, the ignorance of youth reared it's head as she pulled herself forward with everything she had.

He had travelled further from home, but never had he left the continent - unless travelling to Deathbelle’s little island counted. The winged boy had been building his strength by swimming increasingly further distances. He had started off on the Dove Island Archipelago, and made his way through the small islands, until he reached the Bifrost. He had never reached the end of the islands before, never seen the second continent. The little sand walkway intrigued him, it was similar to what his own father had constructed between their pack and the Empire. He had heard of Auster. He knew, theretcally, that it existed but he had never considered where it lay, or what it meant. Would it be like exploring a whole new world? He pulled himself onto the shore, and shook out his coat. He didn’t wait long before he began his adventure, moving to the edges of the grove, where he could look out at the endless plains that sat between here and a castle. He was admiring the castle in the distance, when two figures shot by his spot by the trees, racing across the plains at a daring dash. The boy wasted no time in joining them, leaping out from his near-hidden spot in the trees, and racing beside them. His lean, trained body showed good diet and a life of exercise. Even with his wings trailing out on either side of him, catching at the wind, he kept easy pace with the total strangers. He let out a whoop of joy. “What are we running for?” he panted, putting himself into their play with a childlike-innocence. Not yet a yearling, he had much to learn of manners. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might be intruding where he wasn’t welcome. Ooc: Hope you don’t mind me sneaking into that plus one spot :) "Mortis"

Loser finds dinner indeed, if the Archer-Lyall had her way, Sigrún would be collapsed in a snoring heap half way across the plain, and she could have some well deserved peace. But the fates tended to laugh in her face when it came to such plans and tonight was no exception. She heard, more than saw, the winged creature intruding on their game. The otherworldly rustling causing her steps to falter, her hackles raising defensively as her mind raced to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. A great (taller even than her brother Odin) fanged beast with, feathery wings... It looked like a wolf, and even spoke in a tongue she could decipher, but it’s intentions were unknown.

Sedna slowed her steps and drew herself up to her full height (though it was hardly impressive given current company), hoping beyond hope that her niece would have the sense to fall in behind her. Silver eyes narrowed, then softened some when she realised it was only a youngling, perhaps a few months shy of her companion. The realisation caused a new wave of worry as she considered just where his parents may be and just how large they might be in comparison. She remembered her own mother had never been far behind on any of her misadventures as a child, her mother - and the rest of the pack. These lands didn’t smell claimed, but she also knew some were quite protective of the lands that bordered their homes too. “Apologies if we have strayed too close...” She spoke in measured tones, though her ears occasionally flicked, awaiting the descent of his inevitable companions. “We are far from home and unfamiliar with these lands. We are merely passing through. We were curious about that mountain over there, however, if it is your home...?” She allowed her words to trail off. She was a lawful creature above all else and had no intention of barging across borders uninvited like some heathen home-wrecker. Not unless there was something to make it worth her while, anyway.

Sigrún did her best to keep up with her aunt, unable to accept the loss that would inevitably ensue. She was already panting hard, and the strange mountain hadn't gotten much closer. Maybe a couple more seasons would find them a closer match, but as it stood, the yearling was pushing her limits.

The rustling of feathers caught her attention almost immediately, though it was the unknown voice that caused her paws to slow. The yearling's hackles were already raised as she swung to face the stranger, but what she found when her gaze finally rested upon him was entirely.. unexpected. The snarl on her face fell almost instantly, replaced by utter confusion as she tried to understand what she was seeing. It was a wolf.. bird... wolfbird? He was absolutely massive, and his canines made her own look like milkteeth. She had heard a lot of stories as a cub, scary ones too, but none of them had ever mentioned.. this? Unless this was a púca?

Peachy eyes swung wildly to find Sedna, before falling into line beside, though slightly behind her aunt. She allowed the monochrome woman to speak, unwilling to be scolded for saying the wrong thing later, and instead she too set herself in a way that made her seem taller.

For all of a moment, he was flying free. The older wolf found him first, turning towards him and starting in surprise. The younger wolf, with sunrise-fur found him next, hackles raised, and teeth bared. The steps of the silver wolf began to slow, and courteously, he did as well. Looking to her in surprise (the race was hardly finished!) he wondered what was going through her mind. Her eyes seemed to be taking in his wings, his fangs, his height. She did not look terribly pleased. Her companion was hardly a ray of sunshine as well, despite the color of her coat. For the first time since spotting them, he contemplated the possibility that he would have to defend himself. His ears fell to his crown, disappointed that she was speaking to him like he was an adult, an authority. He was just Mortis, no one yet! “Oh, no, there’s no packs here” he explained quickly, letting his wings tuck into his sides. He enjoyed the sensation of wind running through his feathers, but he didn’t want to cause this woman any further concern. She was older than him, and it already felt strange enough, the way she deferred to him. “I was just exploring, and I saw you running. I’m sorry if I intruded…?” the younger wolf remained silent, moving a step behind the elder, larger wolf. Mort gave a cautious wag of his tail, a hesitant smile. “I’m Mortis Fatalis” he introduced himself, attempting to break the ice. He had thought to find himself the spontaneous victor of a race, not the victor of everyone’s attention. "Mortis"

When the youngster advised there were no packs here, the silver woman visibly relaxed, her tail flagging out behind her in a friendly wave, a wry smile crossing her maw. “You didn’t intrude, we were simply surprised. We don’t see winged wolves where we hail from.” She offered by way of explanation. There was still a chance the young giant would be pursued, but there were no thundering paws, or warning snarls on the breeze, and even in the failing light she could see the skies were, as yet, clear. If it did eventuate that he had a caregiver, well, she could cross that bridge when she came to it. She might even be able to turn this chance encounter to her advantage. He was young and well rested, and Sigrún still had energy to burn.

“How about you two race, and I will try and find us a bite to eat, hmm? We can continue on when the sun rises in the morning. The mountain isn’t going to grow legs and move on us overnight.” The latter was offered up for the sake of her niece, who was impatient at the best of times, and reckless at the worst. She would wait for some counter or acceptance from her companions before setting out to see if she could flush out a warren or something else warm to fill their bellies.

"Speech"

She watched as his ears fell to his crown, and his wings tucked tentatively to his sides. Sigrún couldn't be entirely sure what the wing tucking meant, but coupled with the flattened ears she could only assume that it was some form of submission. Now that some of the tension had passed (at least in her mind) and she was able to really look at him, she was able to discern his age. His features, though much larger than her own, were definitely younger, if only by a bit.

An amused smile touched her lips as her eyes swung to her aunt. She thought to make a sarcastic comment about Sedna being a lot scarier to outsiders than she previously thought, but held her tongue. Now was certainly not the time for all of that, and Siggy had every intention of keeping both of her russet-colored ears on her head.

A cream-colored brow raised at her aunt's suggestion, but she went along with it and turned her attention solely onto Mortis. "I like your name. It sounds very... important." Like Archer, or Lyall, or Argyris. "I'm Sigrún. Pleased to meet you, Mortis." Mischief flickered through her narrowed eyes as her golden head cocked to the side, and her tail picked up speed. "Those wings don't give you an unfair advantage do they?"

"Speech"

He was grateful to see the silver-coated woman relax, and just percetable enough at social clues to pick up on it. The wagging tail however, was a dead give away. His own took up a more regular motion, his easy smile returning to his maw at full force. He knew that he towered above both women, and hunkered down a little so he didn’t seem overly threatening. There was nothing he could do about the little silver scars that dotted his body, claw and teeth marks from the hundred of spars he had already completed. Raised a fighter, even his lanky form and oversized paws could hold a sort of grace. Despite this, It was strange, with a father like Sirius, that anybody would look to Mortis like he was someone who might mean them harm. Next to Sirius, Mortis could be nearly invisible. “Why are you headed to the mountain?” he voiced his curiosity, even as he turned to the smallest member of the party. He smiled at the golden wolf, his ears perked upwards once more. “Pleased to meet you, Sigrún” he would add politely. Now he knew her name, but still not that of her... mothers? He laughed lightly at the mention of his wings, but addressed his name first. “Fatalis is my dad’s name. He’s important, but I'm not, not yet” he explained. Though he was heir, and might perhaps be Warlord one day. “My wings drag at the air, and slow me down, definitely not an advantage” he promised. “We could race towards the ocean, do you know how to fish? I’ve been learning recently” and then they could help catch something for their meal. These women had the look of weary travellers upon them. "Mortis"

The more things stretched out without the Archer-Lyall waking up, the more she began to question whether or not she had slipped through her mother’s Pookastone and into a realm of fae, so she would guard her name for now. Her weary respect towards other packs so far only came from the lack of her own to back her up. Under other circumstances, she might have robbed the younger wolf blind if it so suited her, those not strong enough to fend for themselves, deserved what they received.

“It is curious, how it rises so suddenly from the earth. My mother told tales of a pack she founded on a rock that rose out of the tundra... they had called it a Monadnock, though I’ve never seen one in person myself...” Much like she had never seen anything man-made, she only had natural formations to compare the castle to.

At the mention of fishing the silver woman perked up, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “We come from a Lagoon, do you have sturgeon here?” Her smile would not have been lost on Sigrún.

(Phone post before bed. I'll edit it in the morning to add the table <3)

It wasn't until Sigrun moved forward to close the distance between them (now confident that her aunt would allow it) that she noted the tiny scars littering his body. She briefly wondered if this was some sort of trap. Clearly this boy was battle hardened. That, or something terrible had happened to him. If she had any scars then they were well tucked into her coat and hidden from view. She was careful to make no indication that she had noticed them, but vowed to remain alert during the remainder of their encounter, just in case.

Peachy eyes shifted at his question, narrowing once she locked on to the strange formation ahead. It didnt click for her until Sedna said it. The monadnock. The place her grandmother had claimed, where her father was born. The beginning, really. Her fur bristled in response. Perhaps that's why they had felt so drawn to it? Either way, Siggy was satisfied with the grey woman's answer. There simply was no other option. Such an oddity begged for exploration, did it not?

Curiosity played across her features as Mortis spoke of his father's importance, and she wondered, in this new world, if it might be wise to befriend someone so important early on. "But now it's yours too." She knew the importance of a name. "Which makes you important." Her tone was very matter-of-fact, as if it should have been common knowledge.

In reference to the drag of his wings the yearling only offered a simple, "Good." It was doubtful that whatever amount of drag they offered would level the playing field in any way, but perhaps it was better than nothing. "No flying either." Sigrun made a show of eyeing him with playful suspicion, though the smile on her maw did not falter. She wasn't sure if he could fly or not, but better to set the rule before take off.

She suppressed the laugh that threatened to bubble up from her throat at Sedna's smile, knowing it would be lost on their guest, and for good reason too. As a cub she stayed well away from water, lest the sturgeon inhabit its waters. "Which means I'm better at catching frogs than fish, but I'm not too bad at the latter." She was, after all, her father's daughter.

It was then that Mortis would realise that the ‘mountain’ they mentioned was the castle. The old Abraxas castle, from back when Malleus had been their Alpha. Before he and his brother, (Deathbelles mate) Archon had fought above the volcano. It was said that when they fell, together, into the maw of that great beast, it blew. The resulting eruption would blanket the earth in smoke. The erupting volcano had torn through the land for many seasons… but Mortis knew of it only in stories. The land had begun to heal by the time he had been born. “Here, we call it a castle, and I’ve heard a few stories about it” was all he said in regards to their ‘mountain.’ “I’m sorry,” Mortis apologised to the unnamed elder wolf “I don’t know many names for fish.” certainly, he had never heard of a ‘Sturgeon’ before. Thanks to Malalia, he knew the name for ‘Salmon’ and from others he had heard ‘trout’ but that, sadly, was about the extent of his knowledge. Oddly enough, the young winged boy felt heat touch his cheeks at being called ‘important’ with a brother like Azure, who craved power and acknowledgment, with a father like Sirius… Mortis rarely considered himself to be of importance. He was realistic enough to know that important things were to be expected of him in the future, hence his hard training and many lessons. But all that seemed a long way off. “I... I guess.” he replied to Sigrun. “I can’t fly. I tried once... it didn’t go well. I, and my wings, are too heavy” he knew the race was about to start, and he found himself shifting his balance backwards and forwards again in anticipation. His tail waving with friendly excitement behind him. “Perhaps you can teach me a thing or two, i’ve mostly had to teach myself to fish!” and then, with a playful grin, and one leap forward, to warn Sigrun of his intentions, he took off. Racing towards the ocean, his wings held loosely by his body, so the wind still caught and ruffled his feathers. He ran, despite his superior size, lightly. Like his body was accustomed to swallowing large distances. "Mortis"

Sedna watched the youngsters tear off with fondly narrowed eyes. She would like to hear his stories, and learn more of this strange land they had landed themselves in. If her nose hadn’t betrayed her (or his own words for that matter), he was of a pack, and while her pride still stung at the circumstances of her leaving her mothers, she understood well the advantages to having allies at your side.

She allowed their turbulent passing to highlight the tracks the local rabbits tore along to reach the safety of their warrens, but recognised dusk as a perfect time to fish. So steadily she loped along behind, like a ranch hand minding her herd, ears turned forward and eyes scanning for anything that might cause harm to her young charges. She couldn’t bite back a sigh that it had already come to this. She had asked her brother, when Sigrún joined her, Do I look like a babysitter? Another joke at the hands of some greater power than she, no doubt.

Catching up to the younglings, feeling the sand between her toes, the familiar scent of salt on the breeze hit her with pangs of homesickness. She thought back to her mother’s tales of Torbine. “Sturgeons can grow to be as long as two wolves standing nose to tail... one nearly drowned my mother once when she mistook it for a catfish.” She dared to smirk, ”If I’m not mistaken though, the ones that live in the sea are far toothier?”

She only had stories to go off, but hoped their little fishing trip would be free of black and white sea wolves, or sharks and stingers. She quite liked all her limbs where they were. Despite her trepidation she waded out into the water until the waves lapped at the underside of her chest. She held still, eyes narrowing against the reflection of the setting sun, waiting for a telltale shadow, a glint of silver that would give away her prey. Fishing required patience, and she wasn’t quite sure either of her companions had much of that to spare.

"Castle?" The new word felt strange as it rolled over her tongue and fell into the air. It's true meaning still remained illusive to her, but at least the weird formation had a name. Later... if there was a later, she might like to hear whatever stories he claimed to have about this 'castle'.

She watched his reaction to her sentiment carefully, though she wasnt exactly sure what she was looking for. It didnt matter to her whether Mortis felt important, or whether he knew the worth in a name, and yet her peachy gaze remained locked tightly onto his maw. The uncertainty in his voice made her brow crinkle, and even though she chose not to push the issue any further, she made a mental note of the encounter.

Siggy did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled up from her throat, considering what the phrase 'It didnt go well.' implied. She might have asked for further explanation, but the anticipation in his posture signalled his intent, and with a single bound forward Mortis began the race. Not one to be left behind, the yearling let out an excited yip and flew off after their winged companion.

Her strides were no match for his, though the yearling knew that prior to the race. Winning was usually important to her, but with the knowledge of her impending loss already set in her mind, and the addition of finding dinner off the table, Sigrun was able to just have fun for the sake of having fun.

Siggy ran for what felt like ages, feeling the wind brush through her fur until the earth beneath her paws became soft, and the resistance of sand slowed her steps. Salt and sea filled the air and her lungs as they neared the water, and shortly after, Sedna's scent did the same. The monochrome wolf caught up to them in record time, causing a single raised-brow response, though Sigrun let the question slip away. If her aunt chose to follow them instead, then there was no doubt a reason.

Bright eyes narrowed at Sedna's question, though playfully so. She didn't even like the mention of a slightly toothy fish, let alone a fish that happened to be much toothier. Whatever reservations she might have had about stepping into the body of water flew out the window as soon as the silver wolf's paws touched the wake, and Sigrun too entered the water. "You have to be patient, and let them come to you." Which was, of course, why she happened to be better at catching frogs than fish. Patience was not a gift the gods had blessed her with. "Don't move until they're right under your nose, and wait for a big one."

The water was murky, illuminated only by starlight, so it was hard to really get a grip on what was happening below the waves. Once her eyes adjusted it became a little bit easier, but only marginally so. The fish were but shadows, fleeting in and out of her vision as they neared the surface before disappearing once more into the depths.

This time, the girl took her own advice, watching as the featureless shadows of fish began to trust her. It was a slow process, and they were seemingly tentative at first, darting away from her stock-still legs. Slowly, they began to trust her, mistaking her for a part of their environment. That was the goal, really. Once the smaller ones trusted you, the big ones would always fall in line.

They raced together, and this time his presence was known to them. When he realized how his larger stride overtook the yearling, he slowed. He wanted to win, but not by yards. With a woop of delight, he stretched his wings out fully. Letting them snap against the wind and pull at him. It slowed his pace considerably, but he was having too much fun to care. When they hit the beach, he was in the lead, but only just.

Panting lightly, he pulled to a slow, and then a stop. The sand shifting familiarly beneath his paws. He had been raised beside the ocean. The elder wolf joined them, and walked casually into the water. She gave a warning about the dangers, but he wondered if she perhaps had a peculiar type of humor. He had never been warned away from the waves, and he had swum through deep water to get here. He had no fear. He stepped boldy out into the shallow water, repeating that to himself nervously.

Any worries qyickly evaporated as Sig gave him advice. He pulled himself into a hunter crouch, casting as little shadow as possible over the water. Patience was a hard learnt lesson to him, and he was as tight as a bowstring as he crouched there, waiting.

Sedna was grateful for the warmth of the water, the lap of waves like a gentle swelling chorus welcoming her home, so different from the icy lagoon she had left behind. The fingerling fish came first, sucking at the tops of her toes as they darted between them, mistaking her for some suddenly sprouted tree she assumed, her fur for the green slimy growth that came beneath the water line. Gradually they were joined by bigger fish, still not much more than a mouthful. Finally the bigger fish began to return.

It was harder to adjust for moving water than it was her still lagoon, but she thought she might have the adjustment almost right. She just needed the fish to continue on its course, to not startle and flee back to deeper water. One last inhale before she plunged her head beneath the water, eyes still open and stinging against the salt as her jaws clamped down. She lifted her head with a jerk, ready for the change in weight as they broke the surface, turning to fling the fish back towards the shore where she would have a better chance of holding it down. She pivoted to follow it, suddenly remembering her companions and hoping it sailed clear of either of them and reached her target.

The waves lapped at her sides, threatening to topple her over or wash her out to sea, but she was stubborn in her stance. She had hoped to catch a fish large enough that even Sedna would acknowledge it, though with each passing second that goal seemed to become less likely. The fish returned, but at a snail's pace, and for a girl who was all about instant gratification, well.. it was all she could do to keep her body still and her tail from lashing in frustration.

Finally, she spotted a large fish, though he seemed much more cautious than the others. Three times he nearly swam right up to her nose, though his shadow remained just out of reach. He was coming back for a fourth try when the sound of plunging water drew her gaze away from the shadows below the surface and just in time to see a fish flying towards her head. Instinctively, the yearling ducked with a gasp, inhaling a mouthful of water and coming back up coughing, and soaked from nose to tail. The trust she'd worked so hard to build with the fish was gone the instant her legs gave way, and her eyes narrowed once more.

Once the salt had finished working it's way from her lungs and the coughs that racked her body had subsided, she turned her peachy gaze towards the eldest of the trio. "You're going to regret that." Her tone was playful but the yearling wasted no time making good on that promise. All it took was one dip of her muzzle, and a flick in Sedna's direction, and water was flying right at the woman.

He let his mind drift as he waited, thinking of the songs he had picked up here and there in his quest to impress Lala. He hummed a tune, very softly so as not to disturb the fish. Trying to full the time as he waited for one to swim close enough to his paws. As someone always on the move, it took a lot of thinking to allow himself to stay still for so long.

He, too, was eyeing up a certain protest, when he was startled by the fish that sailed over Sigrun. At the splash, he worried if she was alright, and turned rapidly in the water. Startling away his own prey. When he realised what had happened - That Sedna’s catch had flown too close to Sig’s head, he laughed. Softly at first, and then all-out, doubling over in the water until his own nose skimmed the surface. “Good throw!” he tossed at Sedna.