Wynter crunched lightly through the layer of snow that was constantly accumulated on the ground throughout the winter months as she made her way toward the border. She had gotten bored as she waited for her chance to go down to The Hallows for the upcoming bonfire and what would hopefully become her diplomat training so in the mean time she thought she would try to seek out one of the Armada members she wasn't as familiar with. She pretty much knew everyone's name at this point either from hearing it in passing or asking her father who they were, but there was actually a large majority of them that she had yet to talk to herself.

It probably would have been easier to start in the Col to find someone to talk to since that was where a majority of the pack spent their time, but she enjoyed the landscape of the Woods far more. The twisting trees that climbed up toward the sky and leaned into one another was so much more interesting to look at than caves and tunnels no matter how much her family had worked on filling out the Col into a livable space. Finally she caught the scent of someone she wasn't able to name and she followed it all the way till she spotted a man coated mostly in shades of brown with hints and markings of an unusual green. "Hey, you're... Wilder, right?" she asked with a smile as she approached him. "I was just about to do a patrol, would you like to join me?" A generic activity, but easy enough for any of the Armada's members to join in on.

"Wynter Fatalis"

His focus that morning was on the trailing snow hare prints leading up toward the north. With the scars along his shoulders on the mend far faster than he anticipated, he was eager to get out and do some hunting. Learn about the land he now called home. All those things that came with joining a pack he supposed. All of it was so new to Wilder and he hadn't expected the pack to so large. How many wolves called Armada home? It was quite mind blowing to the wolf who had never had a place to call home before.

With his gaze and nose focused on the scent trail of hare, Wilder didn't notice the approach of someone younger coming toward him. Being the new wolf in the territory meant having to learn everyone's name. Which for him would be difficult and because of it, he had been avoiding most for the time being. Coming to a quick stop as she inquired whether his name was Wilder or not, he gives the girl a friendly smile. "Well I s'pose you'd be right," he responds, his thicker western accent unafraid to show itself.

Looking down at the tracks as she offered him to tag along on her patrol, Wilder considered for a moment. While catching some hare did sound yummy, having company didn't sound too bad either. His tongue clicks against the top of his mouth as he looks back up at the girl. "A'ight, I ain't got nothin' better to do," he teases, smile growing into a playful smirk as he steps toward the girl. "Lead the way," Wilder lifts a paw to motion in the air in any general direction.

WILDER

Wynter's ears perk a bit at the unusual accent that the man's words carry, immediately curious about how his words were different from how she was used to hearing them. Luckily she had guessed his name correctly–though she supposed there were only so many wolves with green markings around so guessing wrong would have been difficult. She wouldn't have minded if he had turned down her request given the fact that she had come up to him out of the blue and they didn't know one another at all, but he seemed nice and agreeable enough and she returned his smile as he told her to lead the way. "Great! This way," she said as she headed through a stretch of the gnarled, twisting trees that reached up toward the sky around them so that they could reach the border on the other side.

"I'm Wynter, by the way," she said as they began to walk, dividing her attention between their surroundings and the new acquaintance at her side. Even though she had made a point to ask her father all of the names of the wolves in the pack whenever she found out they gained a new member she certainly didn't expect everyone to be that way. "You're pretty new to the Armada, right? Where did you live before?" she asked curiously, glancing his way as the branches above them caused striped shadows across them and the ground ahead of them. She had to assume that where he lived had something to do with his interesting way of speaking and it made her wonder if there was more wolves out there that spoke like him or if that was a trait unique to him.

"Wynter Fatalis"

Though his manners were agreeable at best, he was still polite enough to wait for her to begin leading the way before picking up his own paws. Following the girl toward the border, he notices how she appears similar to Wylan - the boy with the wings. Were they siblings? Maybe he'd ask. Funny coincidence too how their names both started with W... Hers and Wylan's, but his too? So many W names.

"Nice ter meet ya, Wynter," he nods his head in her direction before diverting his gaze to the woods around them. Watching how the sun streaked down through the twisting and gnarled branches, he admired nature's handiwork. There was plenty of shade here, but enough light to allow lower, ground plants to survive. A good place to hunt too as he noticed the various burrows nestled along the bases of trees ranging from small to large enough for even a badger or fox to fit in. Committing that to memory, he returns his gaze to Wynter as she questions his origins.

"Yeah, joined recently. I was born in a country out west from Boreas, found myself in Boreas prolly round the time I was eight months or so. Kinda just been wanderin' since then," he shrugs his shoulders. The time before Boreas was foggy to him and not something he cared to really remember. "You one of those Fatalis or something?" Wilder asks in return, gaze lingering on her facial markings for a moment before returning to the surroundings. He would have to admit that the woods was indeed a logical place to lay claim to. Plenty of hunting and secluded enough that they wouldn't come across much trouble.

WILDER

She listened curiously as Wilder briefly described his history of coming here from a country in the west before finding his way here shortly before his first year. That interested her since it meant that his accent still maintained even though he had been living in Boreas for what she assumed was over half of his life. Maybe how you learned to speak held more tightly than adapting to how others spoke around you. It was hard to say one way or another since she hadn't really encountered any other examples of this, but perhaps she would during her travels and her meetings with other packs. She was quickly learning that it was a much wider world than she realized growing up here in the Armada.

She shifted her gaze his way again when he asked if she was one of the Fatalis and she smiled as she nodded to confirm his guess was correct. "I am. Mortis is my dad." She was proud of her heritage, of course, so she would never deny that connection, but she at least knew better than to expect that alone to earn her favor with anyone. Some of her family might be that way, but she was slightly more down to earth in comparison–probably because her father was one of the more soft ones of the bunch and she had learned most of what she knew from him.

The border along the edge of the woods was thankfully quiet as they continued their patrol along the edge that met up with the wall and then on to the portion that looked out over the opposing mountain range from their own. "What's it like? Out there?" she said curiously gesturing out to the whole of Boreas at large. "I've never really left the pack lands before, but I'm going to be very soon to start learning how to be a diplomat. Is there any places I should definitely go see while I'm gone?" He seemed way more well traveled than she was so maybe he would have some interesting spots that she should check out.

"Wynter Fatalis"

Wilder spends some more time examining the woods around them. He notices how the snow lingers along the branches, icy and sharp against the dark and shadowy background. If one were to be quiet enough, they would be able to hear the various noises that thumped too low to be heard. Deer herds grazed slowly, always on alert, cautious and nervous. Moose and polar bears ambling about, minding their business, preparing for the spring to come soon. Even the smaller animals awakening from their slumbers, geared for the warmth and fresh plants to sprout soon. All of it made Wilder feel at home just enough that he didn't miss where he had come from.

His attention is soon grabbed by Wynter, a curious look on his face. "Mortis? Is that the Warlord's... brother?" Wilder asks, head canting a little bit. He had only met Basilisk, Wylan, and Oleander who were Fatalis, but hadn't heard mention of any others other than well, Wynter. With the patrol calm and quiet for now, their stroll was easy. Making their way along the scent trails, he doesn't notice any packs neighboring theirs. In his mind, he knows that's a good thing, but how had they gotten so lucky?

Her questions bring a smile to his muzzle. His expression is fond as he does finally pull up memories of his favorite place in Boreas. "Honestly? It's dangerous. There's many a predator, wolf and not, who would be ready to jump you when food is scarce," Wilder pauses, his expression scrunching, his throat clearing. "Uh, but spring is comin' so food will be plenty, ya ain't got nothin' to worry bout," he assures Wynter.

"Diplomat, huh? You must be important," he shoots her a smile. "My favorite is the Rio Grande, definitely recommend. A wide, wide river that moves slow through a jungle. Good fishin' and exotic animals like colorful birds to keep ya company," Wilder lets out a sigh, his heart misses the swampy jungle, but this was home now. He would have to get used to it.