Summer’s once beating heat became a distant memory the moment night came into play. Cooling winds brushed through the overgrown lands. Grass swaying from such a gentle caress, followed by the occasional fruit falling to the earth beneath it. All of this had been taken in by Chesna as her paws continued their unknowing path t’wards claimed lands. The scent of markings hung heavily in the air. A warning, not only to her; but, to any who dared tread too closely. Something she wished not to do. She didn’t wish to cause herself any trouble. Especially with her lack of confidence when speaking English. To find someone that understood Russian would prove more than amazing. So she wouldn’t sound like a blubbering idiot. For the briefest second Chesna thought of returning back to Ashen. They hadn’t done anything to her. Per say. She just couldn’t stand the lack of attention. No others came to visit or greet her. It seemed as if her services weren’t needed.

An owl hooted from somewhere amongst the tall trees. Sheep bellowed out through the hills ahead. Saliva began to pool at the edges of her lips when hunger finally reminded her it needed to be satiated. When was the last she’d been fed? The question alone stopped her steps. Reality hitting her like an ocean of water. Chesna had no clue how to take care of herself. Besides drinking water, the training they’d given her proved futile in this moment. Anxiety bubbles like lava inside her empty belly. Tongue slipping out to pant against every onslaught of thoughts. Her very mind tried to consume her into a bottomless pit of darkness. What was she to do? Small body trembling under all the pressure, Chesna simply sat just short of the borders. Vision blurring over as time passed.
Walk~"Speech"~Thought

Álarr stirred in the old garden shed, lifting his head sleepily off the bison hide that made his bed. Outside a great-horned owl was hooting but he didn't think that was the reason he woke, no it was the dreams again. How long had it been since he'd seen Tyrian or Torrent? A year? Two? He hadn't seen his littermates in what felt like ages and every so often his mind would try to convince him that they had died, even though he was certain that if he had managed to survive this long then they surely had.  The healer rolled to his side but his mind was unsettled, unwilling to calm and so he went for a walk. Afi, the pallas cat, grumbled at the disturbance but soon settled back down.

Álarr stepped out into the night, welcoming the breath of cooler summer air. He set out on patrol. Though ranked a healer and not a fighter, there was little denying Álarr's skills in that arena and he figured it wouldn't hurt to add an extra set of eyes to the borders at night.

Night patrols were normally uneventful apart from the occasional coyote and he would have assumed the small woman was a coyote if not for the unusual color of her pelt. She bore a strange chain around her neck and his nose wrinkled at seeing it but he wouldn't chastise another for their choice of attire. He cleared his throat.

"Greetings, you sit upon the border of Avalon. My name is Álarr, can I help you?" He couldn't help but wonder if he had missed her call or had she just arrived? Either way she looked in poor shape and that's when he caught the scent of Ashen. A pack wolf? He didn't fret too much over that for as far as he was aware Avalon was on neutral relations with most packs of Boreas.

Corbie's patrol was nearing its end, when she'd be going back to her den and resting before heading back out to care for the herds, when a fresh scent reached her from a part of the territory she'd already been early in the patrol. The scent had pooled, so whoever it was had clearly been there for some time though they hadn't been when she'd passed last, so sometime between. Corbie inhaled deeply and frowned. The scent was that of one of the other packs, but not one that she'd spent a great deal of time on. Ashen? But the scent had shifted enough since she'd last encountered it that there must have been some changes. She couldn't imagine what would bring one of their wolves to her border - they'd never been interested in Avalon before. Alarr's scent reached her as well, so he'd already come across the stranger as part of his own patrol. She knew he could certainly handle it, but... Something didn't seem right. Cautiously and silently she approached the drooping wolf and her pack's healer, watching them as she did.

Ringing clouded anything from entering her ears. No matter how much she tried to grip onto the reality of her situation, it just seemed like it kept slipping further and further away. Black dots continuously blurred a fading vision. Wanting nothing more than to become normal again. What was she to do? Gaze lifted from where they sat down casted. The scent of another pack closing in on her location. Their voice a jumble of words as they spoke. “Greetings… Borders…. Avalon…. Help….” Chesna whimpered in the lack of communication. Her throat dry from lack of usage. However, it didn’t stop her from trying to still speak. "Escaping… Run… Away… Slave…" The thickness of her Russian accent didn’t help much. She hadn’t learned much English and the amount she did was only to help understand to a certain extent. Limbs tremble the more she tried to stand. Fighting the urge to collapse at the strangers paws with every passing second. "Пожалуйста. Не наказывай меня. Мне нужно. Мне нужно." Chesna should have thought this far before choosing to escape. It wasn’t much of a choice; but, a quick impulsive moment to finally be free of being a slave. Something she knew could not be ignored. This world was beat into her. The chains that made noise around her front ankles and neck gave witness to this. As she looked up to meet the wolf’s eyes, a glimmer of hope flitted quickly across her own. And in that moment, darkness took over.

Her body collapsed. Landing with a very loud thud to the ground. Between hunger, thirst and the multiple anxiety attacks. Chesna’s body could no longer stand the weight of it all.
Walk~"Speech"~Thought

Álarr wondered how long the woman had been outside of Ashen. She was clearly in poor shape, emaciated and weak. When was the last time she'd eaten anything? His ear flicked, catching the sound of someone approaching cautiously. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Corbie was there, and he was grateful for his presence for this whole matter was strange to him.

The woman spoke in a think accent, the words he could understand making the situation clear enough. This was a run away slave, from Ashen? Álarr was no stranger to the practice of slavery, even if he himself had no interest in participating. The woman stood shakily, looking up at him. He was about to speak, to ask when she'd last had food but in that moment she collapsed. Shit. He spoke just in case she could still hear him."Rest. You'll be ok." He moved closer, making sure she was still breathing as he hunted for any significant injuries. It seemed mostly to be lack of food as well as exhaustion. He reached out a claw and tugged lightly at her skin. It did not readily spring back. Dehydration to.

"What do you think Corbie? She needs food, water, and rest. My den isn't far from here or we could take her to the barn and get assistance from the other healers." He wanted to be sure Corbie was alright with this. If she was a runaway slave from Ashen there was always the risk that Ashen would come looking for their missing property, putting Avalon right into a conflict. If needed he had an old den in the Knolls where he could keep her til she was more recovered.

Corbie clamped her jaw hard, resisting the unaccountable urge to sigh as she watched the stranger drop to the ground. Well, they were in the soup now, make no mistake. She'd known when she'd challenged for this pack to begin with, when she'd set it up as a sanctuary, that it would be only a matter of time before she ran afoul of one of the darker packs. This it seemed would be it. Could she justify putting her own moral quandary before the safety of her pack? Avalon was small, relatively weak compared to other packs, and she'd promised them safety for their families that she'd already failed to provide when simply raided by another - did she have the right to bring home this particular stray and ask them to risk themselves protecting her from a much larger, much more well connected pack? But her whole soul rebelled against the idea of simply returning the woman to a pack that had held her as slave and, it was clear, had abused her. Nor could she feel justified in letting Alarr alone bear the weight of this.

That sigh traitorously escaped after all.

"We'll bring her to the barn," she told Alarr in resignation. "It's further from the border, and safer. When she regains consciousness, we will offer her sanctuary." It was the right thing to do - to do anything else would be to betray her vision of what Avalon was to be, and would not be true to herself. Shaking her head just briefly, she readied herself to do whatever Alarr needed her to do to get the stranger safely where they needed to go.

Álarr let Corbie think, understanding that this was a weighty decision. When she spoke it was to instruct him to take the stranger to the barn and care for her for now. He nodded. Álarr shrugged his knapsack off his back and onto the ground. Carefully holding down the flap with his paws he used his teeth to undo the latch and pull a deer hide bed roll out. He unrolled it and re-secured his pack on his back. "If needed we could always offer Ashen a trade for her. I have goods." If it really came to worse they could make a force claim challenge for her but he didn't want to incite the other pack.

Moving over to the woman Álarr gently grabbed her scruff and dragged her onto the hide, wincing at the sound of chains. "I shall have to see if Byrnhildr can get those damn chains off her. I'll meet you at the barn." Taking two corners of the hide in his mouth he drug the stranger toward the barn.

-exit?-