The young male had the scrawny, unfinished appearance that in any species spoke of a yearling who had not yet reached sexual maturity and the muscle tone those hormones would bring. He was also relatively small in comparison to the unusual size of the wolves who tended to inhabit the continent's here. But despite his shorter stature, despite his relatively gangly appearance, the young canine showed signs of the massive shepherd dog he would be when he reached his full potential.

Even his mature personality shone through the wide eyed wonder and idealism of youth. Steady patience, caution, and keen observation was evident in his eyes and stance, though he had yet to acquire the muscle to back it up and the experience to temper his passion.

Though not the glory of majestic fluff it would be in his adulthood, the youth's coat was plenty thick and fluffy enough for the autumn chill here in the north. The north in general, and these mountainous areas in particular, were very similar to the environment that had spawned his breed and they suited him immensely.

What didn't suit him was the very thing that had driven him to leave his clan, what had led his clan's youths to leave their mountain stronghold for generations. Some of them returned, older and wiser, but many more had been lost to the outside world. Their line persisted despite the restlessness that stole so many pups from them, the same thing that had driven Bjorn to leave the mountain. A lack of purpose. That was what haunted the dogs of the mountain. They were shepherds with no sheep, an insular band of dogs who had omce lived to serve one master, one human and his family, but humans were no more. They had no sheep to guard, no helpless hairless humans to protect, only themselves in a mountain long ago cleared of enemies. So they left as pups, and only those who survived but found no greater purpose in the outside world returned.

So Bjorn left.

He had found himself in a world remarkably like home, but devoid of dogs. Not devoid of canine life, no. He had seen the tracks every shepherd learned as a pup to identify their enemies. Fox, bear, coyote... wolf. Chief among the dog-like enemies of the shepherds, wolves. Though the big cats, cougar and lynx and the like, were very formidable foes, few inspired the sort of raw hate among the elders as wolves. Bjorn though perhaps it was because they were so much more like dogs than any other species. They had the capacity to work together that few others canine species had, but they had disdained to serve humankind as dogs had chosen.

But there were no humans for anyone to serve, and so maintaining old prejudices built on that foundation had always seemed to the young Bjorn to be a waste of energy and potential resources. So when he had come across those tracks earlier, fairly fresh, he had studied them with curiosity but without any rancor before he had moved on to seek out the jagged boulder he currently sprawled upon as a vantage point to keep a weather eye out for danger while he rested.

The North had been the place she had chosen to familiarise herself with. It was good, having a second to keep an eye on the pack lands to give her a chance to scout. It was late Autumn, but the North seemed like it had already succumbed to winter. There was a chill in the air that brushed through her thick coat. She could feel it between her claws and in the lining of her ears. It was actually a relief, she had always had a preference to the cold, through she had spent most of her life in warmer locations.

Her little tree swallow didn’t do as good in the chilly air, and spent long days curled up on her head like a tiny blue hat, buried in the coat with her beak in the tufts of fur behind her ear. She had long ago learned to walk with as little jostling as possible. She and Feather had been together since Shaye had been a pup.

As she entered the territory known as Waterfall peak, she would catch the scent of snow on the air. With the cool touch already wracking through the wind, she decided it would be prudent to find a place to camp out. She wouldn’t expose her small feathered friend if there was any chance of a storm on its way. She made her way to the flowing water that cut its way across the land, and leaned down to sample the shockling chilled water. There was a mountain freshness to its taste that pleased her, through she didn’t linger at its side. Instead, her eyes began to scan the horizon, searching for a place to hunker down.

Bjorn went still as a tall black and white form emerged into his view, both like and yet unlike the dogs of the mountain. His mind quickly observed and categorized the canine's features, considering and rejecting possibilities from long-memorized drawings and illustrations from the human artifacts carefully preserved within the mountain and used as teaching aids, until he was left with one last possibility. The enemy of the humans, and of his own people, for time out of mind.

Wolf.

His heartbeat sped up just the slightest bit, his expression alert, the only thing that betrayed the sudden increase in tension in an otherwise relaxed posture. Their territory had been clear of wolves for so long that many of the younger shepherds considered them just a myth, a bedtime story used to scare little pups into doing what they were told. Bjorn, who had spent a great deal of his spare time in the old Library, knew better. But the human writings were divided in opinion. Some did speak of their savage nature and their evil wild ways, but others spoke of a nobility and kindness. The official Teachings, of course, focused on the former rather than the latter.

Wolves were the enemy of Man, and an enemy of Man was the enemy of the shepherds.

That Teaching was kept firmly in mind to temper his curiosity with caution as Bjorn watched quietly as the canine wandered around his field of vision. His blunt muzzle lifted to test the air, catching both the snow scent that was causing her concern and the wolf's own scent. She was an older female, one whose body had never carried a litter if her appearance was anything to judge by, and she bore a feather in her fur and a strange blue... he reached for the word from the human books... hat, on her head made of feathers as well.

Bjorn continued to watch with the same wary alertness, without fear but calmly, with the knowledge that violence was right beneath the surface should he need to let it free.

There could be caves in the rock near the waterfall, which could do with investigating. If not, she knew of a den in Soul Sand Cove that she could return to. She was just considering which would be her best option, when little Feather gave a soft twitter, and jumped to her talons, perching precariously in SHaye’s fur, just above the wolves eyes. Shaye tilted her head backwards very gently so the bird wouldn’t fall, and went crossed eyed trying to see the little blue creature. “What is it, little one?” she asked softly, looking about herself at what had caught the birds attention.

She was starting with intent little eyes at a spot not to far from here, through Shaye was having trouble pinpointing exactly where she looked. Cautious that something had caught her friends eye, she let her eyes wonder about with more than just a den in mind. Feather flared her wings and took to flight, fluttering in the air and circling a spot to Shaye’s right, and then going higher in the air, through the cold looked like it was bothering her.

Cautiously, but also very curious, Shaye moved in the direction her bird had indicated. She moved until the rock was in better sight of her, and there, on the rock and watching her she would see an interesting sight. A grey to white creature, with the fluffiest darn coat she had ever seen in her life. She was in awe of that fluff. Just thinking, one summer's shedding could make a bed for a whole family of wolves…

“Do you.. Understand me?” she would not hunt a creature so similar in looks to a wolf. Dogs were off limits in her books, and even fox’s where a grey area. But, she would not know his level of intelligence until he spoke. After all, she had met a speaking elk once.

Observing the approaching wolf, he was startled to see the hat suddenly move, then take off in flight. It hadn't been a feathered hat at all, but a small bird made to look even smaller from the wolf's own size. His eyes narrowed perceptively as the little bird circled his position, clearly indicating his location to the wolf. He lifted his head, eyeing the bird. Even if the bird had not flown higher, it wouldn't be strategic at this point to remove the scout. It had already alerted the wolf to his presence and to do anything would have simply drawn the wolf's ire at the loss of its lookout. So he simply watched calmly and quietly as it spiraled up away from him, then turned his gaze back to observing as the wolf advanced to his position.

She spoke, and Bjorn tilted his head slightly to look down at her. She spoke in an archaic dialect, though not so different from the more modern speech the shepherds used. It didn't take more than a moment of thought to shift his own speech patterns to match. "Of course," he rumbled in return. "Though my people have not spoken in this manner for countless generations. Long, long before Man passed from this world."

The creature tilted its head, and looked at her. Shaye’s curiosity grew, though she moved no closer. She was almost surprised when the dog spoke, his accent strange and unfamiliar to her, the words where clear, and unmistakable. He spoke of ‘man’ an old idea, of a creature she did not understand. She had never paid any mind to them, through she had heard perhaps, of dogs and their relation to them? But no, she didn’t know enough, had never cared to. She wished she did now, only so she wasn’t at a loss in this conversation.

“Forgive my surprise, we don’t see many of your kind around here.” she explained, already treating him like a wolf. There really wasn’t much difference between a dog and a wolf so long as their intelligence matched, and she was familiar with the idea of treating other animals - companions, with respect. Her bird gave another tweet, and soared downwards, settling in on Shaye’s coat again, huddling there for warmth. It reminded Shaye of the cooler weather to come. “Have you lived here long?” she didn’t know the North as well as the East, and it was possible a whole tribe of dogs had taken up residence here, for all she knew.