Luckily, everything had happened during the winter. Lucky was a funny word to describe her aching, frozen paws - but it had allowed her to escape safely to Boreas across a narrow ice channel at the most southern edge of where she'd called home for the past few years of her life. Even as she crossed into Boreas, her eyes were turned over her shoulder, looking longingly back at the vanishing coast. Buut it was for the best this way. An angry mob was likely on her tail, but hopefully far enough away that she could lose them the further she obfuscated her trail as she wound deeper and deeper into the continent.

As she tore her eyes away from her past and grumpily focused them on her future, Fable felt a familiar pang in her stomach. She tried to ignore it - what she needed most now was to put space between herself and her pursuers - but a sharp loud gurgle would not permit her to ignore it any longer. She groaned in frustration. Fable had managed to grab a few sacred items in her flight (salt! SALT!), but had left behind her coffers of exotic spices and cured snack stuffs. Whatever she caught today, it would have to quick and dirty. No time for finessing a meal. She couldn't resist a small pout. Her time away had made her spoiled.

She fixed her eyes on the horizon, towards where the powerful geyser was erupting from the earth. It was impressive, really - but her eyes were drawn to the shorebirds that swirled lazily nearby. Steam rose from the puddles of water at the base, but the ones furthest away were wide and calm. Birds alighted often at the edges of the wide puddles, but they flitted away every time the geyser erupted. Fable began to craft a plan in her head, but it would certainly require perfect timing. Ugh, it would certainly help if she had a second set of paws.

He was getting the hang of this living in the north business. Once accustomed to humid, sticky, and wet swamps, Wilder now sported a slightly thicker coat and rougher paw pads to combat the icy and snow. While still wet, but now cold and dry. At first, he missed it, but as the days passed, he found himself dreaming about it less and less. Unlike the jungles and swamps of southern Boreas, there weren’t as many predators to get in his way up here. North of the col, he could hunt without so much as a glance around him. Just him and his prey. Had he found his purpose?

Purpose was, in Wilder’s mind, a bit silly. He was a wolf after all and aside from the whole procreating business that his absent parents had spouted off to him about, he didn’t really think there would be a purpose other than to survive. Surviving was indeed one thing he could do. Though he’s young, he’s proficient. Even in the snow and icy, he’s figured out how to walk quietly, near silent toward his prey. Plus having a brown and green coat was pretty handy in keeping himself blended in unlike the rest of the colorful wolves that he now lived with.

His mind wanders to Tethys for a moment, wondering if he should have asked her to join him. Would she have wanted to come along and hunt some more birds? A tasty, little snack that his vermilion gaze now lingers on. Silly, no. Wilder thinks to himself as he starts, hair rising and ears folding back as the geyser nearby shoots up into the air. Well, the birds closer to the steaming spout of hell water would definitely not be the good choice. Instead, his focus turns to the larger outer pools of melted ice water where they mill about, only slightly perturbed by the loud hissing and shouting of the exploding water.

Just as he’s about to begin heading over there, he notices another wolf. His paws stop, bright red eyes watching as she too watches the birds that he’s decided were the target for today. Maybe she could use some help? Wilder questions, but doesn’t hesitate for long. Taking long, quiet strides over to her, he lets out a chuff, a greeting to alert her of his presence so he doesn’t spook her into smacking or biting him. Once settled at her side, he turns his muzzle toward her so that he can be heard over the geyser. “Need some help?” Wilder questions, playful and friendly smirk lighting his charcoal lips as his tail gives a few wags.

The sounds of shorebirds wheeling and cawing above almost eclipsed Wilder's approach. Fable appreciated him announcing his presence and turned to greet the stranger as he settled in beside her, pleasantly surprised by the easy-going and open expression on his face. Finally, a friendly face. She didn't realize how much tension she'd been trapping in her shoulders until the smallest amount of it eased at his smile. "Yes, help would be lovely," Fable said, dipping her head in greeting. Although he seemed to be a friendly-to-neutral presence, she held back her name. It's possible that he was tailing her this entire time, hot on the heels of her escape. Maybe he was toying with her and waiting for her guard to drop before he shrieked for vengeance in the name of his king and slew her right here on the ice.

But... that was unlikely. Right?

He had seemed to come from the opposite direction, at the very least, although that didn't count for too much out on the open ice. It could be a calculated plan. Ah, there was the tension again, building in her muscles until she was taught and ready to spring. Fable stood up to stretch her legs out and hide the quivering in her hind end. She'd hardly rested since she'd left her former home and this hunt would likely be her last burst of energy. "I was thinking we could..." her voice trailed off as the geyser erupted again and hit just the wing of one of the birds. The bird cried out and its flight took a few jagged turns before it landed nearby to nurse the wound. She watched for a moment longer, timing out the next eruption. In fact, it happened almost on a perfect schedule. Fable turned to him with a wicked grin. "Actually, I have an idea. If we time it right, we could drive the flock resting by the outer pool right into the geyser as it erupts. Winner, winner, chicken dinner?" And the hot water would cook them a bit, she imagined. Yum. Just what her empty stomach longed for.

Wilder isn't the most observant wolf when it comes to other wolves and their body languages. What with being hardly raised at all by anyone, he's had to scrape by with the whole social interaction nonsense. The best of what he's got is be friendly until they're not and you'll get by just fine. So far, the rule has worked out so far and appeared to be working in this moment as well. So even though he doesn't notice her tension easing away, he does listen to her friendly words, his tail wagging a few times in silent response. They did have a task at paw to focus on!

As she continues to speak, he turns his gaze back toward the pools with their feathery prey waiting to be hunted. Even as the geyser bursts once more, he tries not to start at the sound. It was definitely something he would have to get used to if they were going to hunt so close to it. Wilder watches it like she does though as his fur and muscles settle back down, noticing how the bird's wing is clipped, forcing it to dart away in panic.

He's still watching the bird when he notices her staring at him with that wicked grin. Meeting her excited gaze, he begins to nod slowly. Ah yes, that actually was quite a smart idea! "Winner, winner, chicken dinner indeed," Wilder says in return as his own charcoal lips pull up into a smile. "If yer want, I'll jus' follow yer lead," he motions his muzzle toward the small flock of birds that mill around a pool's edge. "I'm a much better follower than a leader," Wilder gives her that kind of dummy smile that you can't help but find adorable.

Oh, this kid was melting her heart. Fable knew exactly how to belt out orders in the kitchen, and really, what were they doing but standing on a very, very long prep cook line? These birds were about to get cooked. She stood up and swished her tail decisively. "Alright, I think I've got the timing down now after seeing it a few more - " Fable paused for effect and to check herself, and the geyser blew right up behind her on cue. "Fantastic. You head around the other side of that far pool and on my mark, get as much of the flock moving as you can! I'll flank the other side to try and make a chute right towards the water. Once we get within spitting distance of it, we'll have to peel away fast as we can! The water should do the trick and down all of the birds, we might need to dispatch a few once they've hit the ground. Only problem is, we'll have to be quick about ducking back in to retrieve them. We'll time it between geyser bursts. Sound good?" Her eyes were dancing with delight as she relayed the plan. It would make an excellent story to tell later if everything worked as she hoped it would.

His ears press forward, listening to her as she stands, tail decisively swishing behind her. Honestly, he's impressed by her demeanor. So confident and sure of herself for someone who he had just met. A commendable personality. And when she pauses, Wilder's bright red gaze turns toward the geyser to witness it erupting on beat to her timing. Color him impressed!

Plus, the plan was straight forward. Go around to the far side, wait for her mark, then charge in to get the flock moving. Wilder nods, confirming that he understand what she's putting down. "I ain't got these long legs for no reason," he replies, smile widening. "I'll head on over now and wait fer yer mark," Wilder gives her another confirming nod before he turns on his heels.

Making his way around the outskirts of the pools, staying quiet so that he goes unnoticed, it doesn't take him long to reach the target. Settling into a racing position, his gaze darts from the girl to the birds to the geyser. Watching the fowl and the water, he can feel the anticipation begin to build. Now came the fun part!

Allowing the anticipation to rise within in, eyes eager on the target, Wilder doesn't hesitate. As soon as the geyser bursts, he takes off like a race horse through the gates. His paws barely touch the ground as he careens toward the birds, helping the girl direct them toward the steamy hot water that shoots up toward the sky. There's enough of the fowl that they're able to direct quite a few to their untimely deaths. The scent of burnt feathers and cooked meat singe his nostrils as he dives in to snag a couple of them and dart back out.

Once at a safe distance and reconvened with the mastermind, Wilder drops them at her paws. Ensuring they are quickly dispatched with the pressure of a paw on their necks, he gives her a wide smile. "We don't make a half bad team," Wilder muses, letting his tongue roll out to pant away the built up heat from the geyser.