There was something soothing about watching the sheep as they grazed within their pen. Sans felt calm watching them, able to relax now that he had found a pack that suited his fancies. The man had been able to work a little on fortifying the fence that the sheep had been placed in - letting it grow weak could cause Avalon to lose the entire herd if they weren’t careful. But it was moments like this, the time after such duties, that the ragged-looking wolf was able to appreciate most. He had yet to come to know any of his packmates, outside of miss Corbie that was, though he had been warned there was a horse about that was a member same as he was. Sanctus let his ears twitch as he listened for sounds outside the ordinary. The sheep, while penned, could still be a target for other predators who dared to seek an easy target. The man didn’t want to think ill of other creatures, but during another time he himself might have considered such an option. Still, it seemed that the sheep were minding their own and were safe, so perhaps he could go looking for a packmate… maybe get to know them and the like. Hell, if they got on well enough maybe they’d go on a hunt. There was other wild game throughout Avalon after all. "Talk," 'Think.'

The strange early autumn soon gave way to the real thing at the festivals end. Álarr was still tending to a broken paw but each day his healing progressed. He settled down in front of the barn where he'd made a fire pit rimmed in flat, squarish stones. Brynhildr had a fire going and for now he just sat in front of it, enjoying the warmth on his coat as he changed the bandages around his paw. Nothing had broken then skin thank goodness but he kept it bound to ensure the bones were healing back together as well as they could be. He flinched. Something would need to be brewed for the pain. Afi, his pallas cat companion, arrived with some abscess root between his teeth. The cat ran his side along Álarr's in greeting before setting the root down. "Getting better I hope?"

Álarr nodded. "Much, hopefully it won't be too much longer."

As Sans gaze wandered, it pulled to the barn. The structure was, for the most part, still intact. His green gaze focused on it for a long moment, knowing that the sheep were better off there than penned up in a smaller enclosure while they worked on their pastures. They could be moved later though. For now, he thought it best to go see the barn itself. See if any of the lower levels needed some reinforcement and the like. Sanctus rose, and with one last glance toward the grazing animals, he started for the barn, not sure of what he was expecting to see, but certainly not what he came across. The first thing he noticed as he drew close was the smell of smoke and the flicker of fire. He hurried around the parted door to find what he assumed was a packmate based on their smell and their companion by his side. Sanctus came in slower now, easing the hackles that had started to raise in alarm of a loose blaze. His green eyes flicked to the male, noticing that he seemed to be nursing an injury. “‘llo.” Sans spoke in his gruff tone. “‘bout had me scared ta death, what with that fire of yers. I take it yer one of Avalon’s own?” Sanctus asked, hoping for confirmation as he stopped a respectable distance away. He would not approach further unless the stranger invited him to do so. "Talk," 'Think.'

Álarr took thr root from Afi and added it to one of his ceramic bowls. He was rooting about looking for the antler he used as a mortar and pestle when a small man approached and greeted him. Álarr quickly recognized the other as a fellow pack mate. He smiled warmly and beckoned the man closer. "I am indeed, my name is Álarr Imperialis, a healer. What of you? And there is no need to worry about the fire, it is contained and if treated with respect should remain within the fire ring." He gestured to the stones surrounding the base of the fire. He could understand the mans apprehension. When he was first learning to start fires himself it had been both awe inspiring and frightening. A few early burns swiftly taught him respect and not to rest to easy around the flames.

So the man, Álarr Imperialis, was a packmate, one of Avalon’s own. He was a healer, and that information gave Sans the information he needed to relax. His gaze flicked to the fire as the other male said that, so long as it was contained and treated with respect, it should remain in the fire ring. He had only ever seen fire as a destructive force, and seeing it contained as it was… well, was curious. He drew closer, inspecting the ring of stones that seemed to contain the flames. So long as he didn’t get too close he was sure the fire wouldn’t try to lick and burn him. Green eyes shifted back to Álarr then. “Sanctus Bellator, ‘unter of Avalon.” He spoke his name and profession in return. “Is good to meet a packmate, y’know? I’ve been tryin’ to focus on building fences for the animals, though t’is slow goin’.” He was sure that the flocks would need a much larger space to roam, not to mention shelters from the wind and other weather. Especially with it approaching winter. “Yer hurt.” Sans noticed. “‘ow’d it happen?” "Talk," 'Think.'

Álarr picked up a piece of antler and used the base to mash up the root as his pack mate drew closer to the fire. The gray pelted man introduced himself as Sanctus Bellator, one of Avalon's hunters. Álarr set the antler aside. "Nice to meet you." He poured a little water over the root mash and scooted it close to the fire, listening as Sanctus explained that he had been working on building fences for the animals before asking Álarr about his injury.

Álarr lifted up his broken paw and thought for a moment before tucking it next to his chest. "Well, during the strange events of summer I had a run in with a spirit. When I fled I fell and broke my paw." He shook his head, still some what in disbelief, but he had no way to really explain what he'd experience, no matter how much he tried. He looked to Sanctus. Would the man think him crazy?

The fire was a strange beast, but as Álarr had said it seemed to keep itself within the stone circle as it danced, flickering and licking the air above it. He could see the paler man working with an antler across the flame, and when Sans asked about his injury, Álarr lifted the broken paw for a moment before tucking it into his chest. Sanctus had never dealt with a broken bone before, but he didn’t imagine it was all that pleasant. It would certainly hinder your movement, and make it harder to do certain tasks. At least his packmate was a healer, and therefore had knowledge on how to treat the injury. As for how he got it, Sanctus had to arch a brow at that. A spirit? “A spirit ya say? Is uncommon for the dead ta mingle with the livin’, though t’is not unheard of. May be lucky yew only got a broken paw, given the spirits and the like tend ta try possessin’ folks and whatnot. How long do yew reckon’ that paw of yers will take ta heal?” He frowned thoughtfully. “Come ta think of it, do ya need anything? Food? Water? It must be mighty hard tryin’ ta travel round with that injury.” "Talk," 'Think.'

Álarr noted the raised brow but was relieved Sanctus didn't think him out of his mind for talking of a spirit encounter. There was a time Álarr might have thought such himself if some wolf told him of spirits haunting the living and causing them injury. "Probably a few more weeks. It's getting better but unfortunately these sorts of injuries take time."

Sanctus offered to get him something and Álarr shook his head. "I appreciate the offer but I'm fine for now. Any work you do for the pack will help all its members, including me." He picked up the antler in his jaws and expertly hooking a tine around the lip of the bowl he pulled it from the fire to cool. "So Sanctus, are you originally from this area or far away?"