OOC: Intended for Basilisk but others welcome-

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Well, this probably... wasn't worth it.

The dreary colored girl moved at a slow, limping gait across the wood, wincing with every step yet refusing to stop. A scrawny rabbit hung from her maw, the only scrap of sustenance she'd been able to find all day, and one that had put up quite the chase too, dragging her damn near all over the forest and at times changing direction so swiftly she suffered mild injury just trying to keep up. At one point she'd stepped on a sharp twig (painful, but harmless), then misjudged a distance and slammed her side into a tree (bit more painful, no doubt left a bruise beneath her already dark fur, but it faded soon enough). Both things she could whether just fine... until she turned her front left foreleg the wrong way and felt a shooting pain jolt up her limb. Thank the gods the rabbit, too, seemed to have lost it's footing a little bit, just enough for her to land the killing blow right then and there. A meal secured... but the damage was done.

A mild sprain, she assumed, truly not anything too bad, it wouldn't even get infected since it wasn't an open wound. But gods did it hurt when she put any pressure on it, resulting in her present limp of a gait. With some rest it would heal, but she couldn't really afford to rest, especially not with a catch like this. Better than nothing, yet far from even a proper meal, much less enough to sustain her that length of time.

She huffed, annoyed.

Finally, the creek on the east side of the wood was within reach, so she painstakingly slowed to a stop (it hurt more to stand still on it than limp along, only placing it down occasionally), dropped her kill at it's bank wand took a much needed needed drink. Oh well. Maybe she didn't need to rest. Sure, it might hurt like hell, but maybe she could muscle through it? Long enough to catch something more substantial at least?

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest choice for the colossal beast of a wolf to travel back into the woods. Not when he was still recovering from his fight with the Polar bear, but he wasn’t willing to leave behind the coat. It would serve his pack well over the bitter winter. Ollie and Iggy had skinned it, and taken the meat. So no predators would have seen it as a worthy meal. For this reason alone, he was able to recover it with minimal damage, despite being left in the woods for a few days.

He found the spot at last where he and the beast had fought. Picking it up with his teeth, he tossed it over his shoulders. Letting it settle, unsecured across his back. His gait careful, the injured wolf turned to make the trip home once more. He was passing by the creek that ran down towards his territory when the scent of another wolf told him he wasn’t alone.

Cautious and injured, he slowed his gait, emerging from the woods slowly to find the scrawny young slip of a wolf. The depressing remains of her catch on the bank beside her as she drank. She was hardly a threat to the Warlord. He settled on stiff legs with a grimace, his stitches pulling as the raw coat slid a little around his shoulders. “I haven’t caught your scent in these woods before.”


"Basilisk"

To the voice that hung curiously in the air, she ceased her drinking, freezing entirely, and merely slid a slow, wary side eye over to its maker, hardly even turning her head. She hadn't detected the stranger's approach, but now that she knew he was there, threw her guard up in a moments notice... and for good reason too.

He was massive. Though usually striving to keep a cool, unimpressed exterior, even she couldn't help but widen her eyes at the shear size of the brute, so large she hesitated to even consider him a wolf, though she knew not what else to call him, other than a giant, like the ones from her father's folktales. Armed with long, saber like fangs and sharp claws, this man was certainly nothing to scoff at, or brush off as just a passing stranger, so she adjusted accordingly. Slowly her head was raised and her tail stiffened, a shallow attempt at making herself at least... somewhat larger. An involuntary twinge of pain flashed on her face, having now settled more weight on her sprained ankle with this shift in posture, that she tried to hide behind a suspicious frown.

His subtle inquiry into her presence was ignored in favor of the far more interesting pelt that clung to his shoulders, one unmistakable in origin, though now she had glimpsed a canine creature as large as he, she asked just to be sure. "Polar bear?"

It seemed he wasn’t the only one injured. When the weary yearling turned towards him, he caught the twinge of pain as she settled her stance. His eyes glanced down to her leg, but he couldn’t see an injury there. Too stable for a break, a sprain, perhaps? His eyes moved back to her face as she spoke. Catching the almost war-like paint beneath her eyes.

He grimaced when he registered her question, his own injuries shown in the brilliant bruise across his forehead, and the stitches in his shoulder. “Yes.” He agreed, pausing a moment and then nodding his nose towards her. “You’ve been in a tussle yourself?”

"Basilisk"

At his confirmation, her gaze swept over the pelt once more, this time slower, drinking in every detail as she tried to imagine the beast, still alive, and this mountain of a man being the one to bring it to its doom. Certainly impressive, even if he had a clear advantage over most other wolves... though not without taking some licks of his own, it would seem. Just as he'd seen her injury as she winced, she too now noticed the stiches in his shoulder and the odd miscoloring of his forehead when he grimaced.

Still, even his injuries were impressive, especially compared to the silly sprain she'd endured from just not watching where she placed her feet.

A scoff escaped her lips his next question, both amused and a bit embarrassed. "No." She awkwardly stepped back, not so subtly avoiding using the paw as much as she could, and lightly kicked the pitiful fruits of her labor closer to him, unaware he'd already seen the rabbit before approaching. Damn thing.

Something like that maybe needed further explanation -- how exactly does a creature a fraction of your size injure your whole foot? -- but nothing she could think to say, in so few words, seemed good enough, so she just left it to him to fill in the rest. She hunted. Hunting requires running. Do the math.

Basilisk was quickly coming to see that this young wolf was not one for talking. At his question, she moved slightly, displaying her injured leg a little more clearly. She also nudged at the rabbit. Bringing his attention to its limp form. A hunting wound, then? Not unheard of, and dangerous for a loner that needed to rely on their own skills to survive

“I see.” He said thoughtfully. He looked over the little wolf before him. She was young yet, and would need some feeding to grow to her full size. She must be out here alone, or her injury would have been seen to already. “If you want to eat this winter, and that wound tented to, you will join my pack. The Armada” He told her, it was an invitation, but only barely. It lingered between an invitation and an instruction.


"Basilisk"

She gave a small, appreciative hum when the man looked her over, took in the details she displayed and signaled his understanding with a simple "I see", glad she didn't need to explain further. Not just because it would be more talking, but because it would be... kind of embarrassing too.

Though, his next contribution to the conversation caught her a bit off guard, earning him some suspiciously furrowed brows.

So, he was not only an accomplished warrior, but a pack wolf as well, the sort she'd never interacted with up close before. Packs were always... strange to the girl. There was nothing wrong with them -- it made perfect sense to live together as a group instead of roughing it on your own, if her own family's sordid history was any proof of that. It was just... different. And very... social, she presumed.

Hm.

She glanced at her pitiful spoils, then to the leg she still held limp in the air, who's pulsating pain she'd been able to ignore due to this distraction, but was still very present once she brought her attention back to it. Then to the pelt he wore upon his shoulders, who's acquisition she was now more curious of (perhaps he hadn't done it alone?). Now finally back to his face, his "question" (command, really) still hanging in the air.

"What's it like? Your Armada," she posed, as if his answer would change the reality of the situation.


"Speech."

Basilisk gave her a small hint of a smile, understanding her need to pretend she had any control over her situation. He was tired, and injured, and eager to get back home. But he would play by her rules, if just for a little while. He settled his haunches a little further on the ground, sensing he might be here for some time.

He thought of what he had once said to Ignita, when pressed to find the worth of the Armada. “Wolves are stronger together, and the Armada takes that belief to heart. It’s a fortress for the people we love, a border in which its wolves can grow and learn together.” He explained. It had changed much in the long years that his Grandfather had ruled it, and it was changing again now that it belonged to Basilisk. But he broke it down into its most simple form. It was a place that his family could grow old in, and all the wolves of the Armada were his family. Even if he didn’t always like all of them.


"Basilisk"

She gave a firm nod to the man as he said his piece, listening to each bit very closely. Strength, fortitude, a place to learn, all good qualities. Really, it almost sounded too good; what was the catch? She didn't even know enough about packs to guess, only that there was something to them that'd turned her parents off from the idea.

...Then again, regardless of their reasons, that was their choice, as fully capable adults, able to provide for themselves. Suppose she didn't have the luxury of making such a choice, all things considered. As long as this place offered somewhere to rest and enough food to make it through winter... staying was her best option.

So now it was just a matter of the nature of the stay.

"What would you expect me to do?" She couldn't imagine it'd be much different from what she'd done before, though she was curious how such responsibilities were divvied up in a place with far more sets of fangs. Would she even be expected to help/stay long term at all, or was this only until her paw healed?


"Speech."

Basilisk looked at the little yearling, and heard the determination in her voice. She had nothing to fall back on but still she stood strong. Clearly it mattered to her to know what she was walking into, even if her choices were slim. “That would depend a little on you” He explained, pausing to grip the polar bear coat and drag it back up his shoulders. It was skinned but not yet shaped. It didn’t fit naturally across his broad shoulders.

“You would have the opportunity to pursue a future of your choosing. If that was hunting, you would be assessed and taught appropriately.” He explained. She was young, so whichever direction she chose he knew he would have to put time and effort into her. An acceptable loss of his time to form a wolf that would be valuable to the Armada one day.

"Basilisk"

'That would depend a little on you.'

Something akin to hope flared in her chest at his words, if for a brief moment before she warily floated back down to reality. So they would do more than house and heal her -- they would train her, make her stronger, and there were no specific expectations or harsh conditions to be met in repayment for her stay.  She need only select the path she desired, and so it would be, her fate finally in her own paws at last. 

Her gaze slid once more to the polar bear skin lain precariously across the giant's shoulders, which seemed as willing to stay seated as she was willing to remain a starving, helpless welp for the rest of her life.

"You would teach me to do that?" She nodded to the skin.

Hunting, of course, was a life skill all needed to improve upon, but she didn't want to stop at just measly rabbits or skittish deer. Her ambitions were aimed much higher, and she would reach those heights, no matter how long it took.


"Speech."

Basilisk held her gaze instead of turning to look at the coat he already knew that sat heavily on his shoulders. So she wished to learn how to be a fighter? A fighter was always welcome in the Armada. If she had ambitions to take down a polar bear, then she would have much to learn. “I can.” He agreed steadily. “It won’t be easy, but if you're willing to learn, I will teach you.” He got to his paws. He had given her the illusion of choice, and she had made the obvious one. It was time for them to move on.

”My pack lies to the South of here, and it isn’t far. Can you walk?” he asked her, stepping closer to the small girl. He hadn’t seen her try to walk on that injured leg yet. He came close enough to pick up the scrawny scrap of rabbit she had tossed a little closer to him earlier on.


"Basilisk"

'I can.'

Well, that was all she needed to hear. She'd already dropped her gaze and leaned her weight forward to get moving before he'd said anything else, the girl clearly done with talking and eager to get going on this new trajectory in life. The sooner they got there, the sooner she could heal, then the sooner she could begin training. Dimly she heard him mention it wouldn't be easy, prompting just an internal scoff with a dismissive ear flick - neither had her life up to this point. She could take it.

His question about her ability to walk was something that garnered a little bit more of her attention, for she... wasn't quite sure herself. She looked down to the paw and tenderly lowered it to the ground, where another jolt of pain shot up her leg, seemingly made worse by having not experienced it in a hot second.

Yet, she stifled the wince and committed to keeping it on the ground as she hobbled forward a step. Then another, one a bit more graceful than the first, as she adjusted and got used to the feeling. By the third, her gate was smoother and the injury far less noticeable, be it because it really had improved or she had improved in concealing it. Either way, though it didn't feel great, she could certainly manage a walk if the pack was close, and wanted to prove as much as she silently raised her head high and nodded sternly.


"Speech."

Basilisk watched as she adjusted to her injury, learning to move with it as she came closer. He gave her a nod of respect, before turning, letting the polar bear coat turn with him in ripples and reseat across his back. He led her to the Armada, heading to the Mile High Woods which was the closest point to enter. “My healer will take a look at you when we arrive.” He informed her, sending off one of his companions with a few motions.

He kept his stride short, and easy enough for the smaller, and injured wolf to follow. The scent of the Armada opened up before them, and then they were crossing over the territory. He angled them to head towards the healers den, knowing Ollie would meet them on the way.


"Basilisk"

One of Basilisk's companions reached him from the other side of the Col while he was pouring the last of the salves to set. He was needed at the border. Right, got another, did we?

He wrapped up his task, grabbed his basket, and headed to the woods at the end of the Col. He saw the Warlord approaching with a woman. Was she... yeah, she was limping and trying to hide it, she was doing a good job at it! He slipped into the healer's den for a half moment and grabbed the kit he likes to keep in the doorway. They really needed an infirmary around here somewhere. Then he waltzed toward them with a spring in his step.

He placed the kit down before them, "Hey there. I'm Ollie, one of the healers!" He said and dipped his head to the new woman. "What seems to be the issue I was called for?" Letting her bring up her wounded leg was up to her, maybe there were other wounds she needed tending to that he wasn't aware of.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

On they went, then. Hal did her best to keep up with the man as they departed from the wood, aware he was likely shortening his strides to make it easier, so she in turn tried to lengthen hers, as much as her bum paw would allow.

Gradually the vast, towering redwoods of their surroundings gave way to smaller, more normal sized trees, yet abnormal in their gnarled, twisted appearance. In her travels, Hal had seen these trees from afar, but had never taken the time to stop and note their truly unique appearance; as if bramble vines had grown to the size of trees rather than being trees themselves.

Then, through the thicket loomed the mountains, majestic yet intimidating in their harsh silhouette against the sky, like an open maw of teeth seeking to devour the sun. She'd thought them impressive from a distance and thought them even more so up close. The unmistakable musk of wolf, strong and plentiful, confirmed this was the home of the Armada.

Seemingly expecting their arrival, a white wolf was quick to make his way onto the scene, carrying with him a bundle of some sort and a spring in his step. Hal eyed him warily, only relaxing a tiny bit when he introduced himself as a healer. He then also offered his name -- Ollie -- and it was in that moment she realized no other introductions had been made, not by her, not by the man she strode into camp with. A side effect of her silent disposition. If she was to be staying with them, surely she owed them that much, at least.

With a slightly awkward glance at the dark man beside her, to sort of include him in this statement as well, she quietly chuffed, "Halldóra."

She then swallowed a hard lump in her throat, having not used her name since... well, since there had been wolves who cared to know it. Now wasn't the time for reminiscing though.

As for what ailed her? She did indeed raise the bad paw, so Ollie could see it better, thinking he hadn't already. "It's... sprained?" They were pretty sure it was sprained, but in the face of someone who actually knew a thing or two about such things, she was less confident.


"Speech."

Ollie didn’t disappoint. His reliability showed through everytime Basilisk had a need for him, and the white wolf appeared not long after they entered the Armada territory. Basilisk came to a stop and moved to the side. Letting Ollie and his new wolf do what they needed to. When Oleander introduced himself, it reminded Halldora - and Basilisk - of something they had missed.

He chuckled softly under his breath, and looked at the young woman. “Basilisk Fatalis.” He introduced himself in turn. He gave Ollie a chance to examine her injury before he spoke again. “She’ll be training to be a fighter. When will she be fit to start?”


"Basilisk"

Seems they had forgotten introductions between themselves! Ollie smiled, Oh Bas, Mr. Tight-lipped, Strong, and Stoic around others. Not at all like his cheerful and social slave Ignita. Was this newcomer coming in as a songbird or an apprentice? Ah, Bas said she was going to be a fighter! Excellent! An Apprentice then!

"Halldora, nice to make your acquaintance. Let's see this leg." He said moving closer for inspection. With how she was walking before it didn't seem broken or fractured.

"Probably sprained. I can give you some arnica tea to drink for a few days, and we can set you up in a cozy den so you can rest it for about as long. Did you hear any kind of pop or crack when it happened?" He asked, moving his white paw to gently take the leg and watch her expressions and reaction when he would try to move it. He had to judge if was a sprain, a dislocation, or a fracture. If she recoiled at the slightest movement it was a possible fracture or dislocation, adding her rest time by several weeks, if not months. If was a sprain, then her recovery would add days or weeks depending on the severity.

"Speech"

Basilisk Fatalis, hm. A strong, beastly name for a strong, beastly wolf, certainly suited him well.

At the mention of her intent to become a fighter, she tipped her chin up ever so slightly, feeling a bit dwarfed by the company present and wanting to look strong herself, show she had what it took. Their efforts towards her would not be wasted and this paw would not hold her back, even if it delayed the start of her training.

It was a likely sprain, the doctor declared, and prescribed something called 'amica tea', which was a new concept to her, but it mattered not. Whatever he thought was best. When he moved closer she allowed him to take the paw and move it gently, only wincing slightly upon first touch, but clearly not in much pain otherwise. Taking weight off it alone seemed to relieve most of the soreness.

As for whether she'd heard any pops or cracks well... she'd felt the issue more than she'd heard it, being too caught up in the hunt to take notice of anything subtle like that. Which meant there probably weren't any; you'd definitely hear a bone crack if that's what had happened, she figured.

"No."


"Speech."

Basilisk watched Ollie get to work, and Halldora obey him with the almost innate understanding all wolves did when addressed by a healer. He hid a small smile and stood there a moment longer. But he had a bear coat to tend to, and other tasks that would only pile up the longer he left them.

“I’ll leave you in Ollie’s capable hands, Halldora. Ollie, can you set her up with a place to sleep. A coat, and some food for the night as well.” he instructed his wolf. No doubt the girl was hungry, and he knew his healer would see to that. “Once Ollie has cleared you, call for me and we will start your training.” this he addressed to Halldora, before he nodded his head to the two of them and turned away

-exit unless stopped -


"Basilisk"