Hollow Lands of Deor

[okamiwolf]

The evidence was left in the untouched snow…

Only one track existed, there had been only one who was wandering around the barren lands of Deor. It was the Drappa, Lucivar. There was an elegance in her step, it was foreign to her heavy heart, for she was missing her love and her family.

Deor had never been the most active, she knew that from tales that were spun by their resident story teller and even Chalos had once told her of the history. She seemed to be linked to two of the Varg from this pack too - it was destiny that she had ended up here and it was destiny that she had fallen in love with the strong Dragga. But he had vanished again, the damnable mann! The brute was hardly around anymore, and it frustrated the woman. Her first love and she almost never saw him!

Of course it wasn’t all his fault. She would dip into the side of leaving every once in a while, but she would always return to her home. For how could she abandon such a beautiful place, and such a beautiful family. It might not have been the biggest, but oh how she loved it with all her heart and soul.

Lucivar paused, her nose in the air, thoughtful. She wondered how Mist’s pups were doing. The Beta had been left in charge, and with her own mate’s loose activity she was sure that the fae was having just as much trouble as she was - and mothering her cubs too. Bitterly Lucivar thought of pups - she loved them, but feared herself around Mist’s. She would never admit it, but she was jealous that Mist had cubs to take care of. Lucivar had always wanted little ones of her own. She would even adopt a pup if she knew of any that needed a home and that she would find that she loved like a son or a daughter. But she didn’t want to impose on her mate’s freedoms, being a father could tie one down - and besides he was away too much to sire a litter.

With a heavy heart Lucivar let her breath puff in the air, the gentle clouds of heat coming from her nares drifted in the air before dissipating. She wouldn’t how today, but she was hoping that perhaps someone would come to join her. Someone of the pack might chance upon her returning self. She lowered her haunches to the ground and watched the sky carefully.

It looked as if it might snow…

[Silve]

The snow had started to come down. Light, soft. Small flakes drifting lazily through the air to fall upon the ground as the naturally slim fae padded back into the territories of the pack. Silve was a new member to Deor, and still was blesses, or cursed, with the heart of a Kerl to travel, and she it was one of her small excursions that she now returned from. Her hopes of seeing Neithan again on this were in vain, for the handsome, wonderful black varg that she loved had not been easy to find, and her recent injuries wouldn't allow her to travel far or for long, but they had now healed in to scars, marring a once smooth and perfect silver coat. The one on her shoulder still pained her sometimes, but that might have just been because of the one who had put it there.

With eyes as limpid blue as those of a cub whose eyes had just openned the silver scout searched through the snow, coming down a little more with every passing moment. Tracks in the snow. She bowed her head low to the ground to take in the spores. New to Deor, Silve was not quite familiar with all the members therein. The scent had several spores of Deor in the mix, and so, without any hostility in her tread, the wolf moved with grace in the direction that the tracks led.

Cautiously she double checked along the way. It would not do to treat an enemy in Deor with kindness, just as it would be foolish to harm a member of the pack the same way. Finally the other Varg came into sight some way ahead of her. Although the scent of a Kerl accompanied her, it was slowly being overwhelmed by the scent of a pack, this pack, so the silver fae decided not to howl in recognition, instead approaching her with only enough noise to announce her presence rather than surprise her and lose more blood. She slowed her previously quick pace to match that of the other Varg and continued on in silence.

[okamiwolf]

Lucivar turned her head, her black tipped audits pivoting toward the sound of approaching footsteps. The guard hairs on her back hackled, rising and stiffening as she held herself tall, in the posture that an Alpha female ought to take. Even if she was submissive by nature she always made sure to hold her rank known among strangers. But this Varg looked familiar. Tilting her head she scent the wind that swirled around the two, carrying the tiny flakes with them.

“Varg, what is your name?” She asked, her gaze of flawed blue stared directly at the silver she-wolf. Her eyes glimmered though with a secret kindness deep within them, but the warmth did not exist outside the splotches of chocolate brown in either of her blue irises. “You are of Deor, but I smell Kerl upon you as well… and… Balkar. You realize they are the enemy?”

Her eyes narrowed as she suspected the possibilities of a traitor in her midst. The lovely tri-hued fae stood her ground sturdily, the wind whisking about her and making her look intimidating as she could be. But to the few who knew here well they would know better than the gentle Drappa of Deor would only attack Lera. She wasn’t a fan of violence, and would very much like to keep her streak of not fighting another Varg for as long as she could.

Her dainty paws turned her body to fully face the young silver Varg, almost lost in the white snows. She awaited an answer.

[Silve]

The silver fae tried to keep her features calm, but submissive as well, for she knew well as Deor's newest member, she also held the lowest place in the pack. Nature had made her thin and slender of looks, and strong but kind of character, and it wasn't in her to fight often, though the livid scar that stood out on her right shoulder may have shown against it. The one on her side near her stomach had healed completly, but this one....

Tilting her head skyward to show her throat submissively she heard the words of this other beautiful Varg, and Silve knew that respect that always came to her of the beauty of the natural, and she could tell that this hostility, however mild, was not in this fae's. Her voice was soft as she whispered, "Kerl and Deor, I do understand for those scents. But of the Balkar, I have never consorted with one of their ranks, although the one who gave me this," she licked her shoulder, "may well have joined their ranks by now." She didn't dare whatever trust she might be gaining by mentioning that it was Raknar, her own brother, that had done it.

Sitting calmly, for she had travelled far to return to this place and was a little worn from the journey, she continued with pride, "I am Silve, not long ago a Kerl. I joined Deor some moons ago, but still have not quite lost the scent. My Dragga gave to me the duties of a scout." She knew that the scent of Kerl was stronger than usual, for the excursion she had just taken had brought to her a short time with her belove Night Sky. She was uncertain anymore if he was of Koran or a Kerl once more.

She shook her head to return herself to the present. "I have been here not long, and have not seen you among the others of Deor, so I'm afraid I know not your name. Would it be above my station to ask you what it may be?" Her blue eyes wavered slightly, looking slightly to the left of the other instead of right at her, and she nervously licked a paw in waiting for an answer.

[okamiwolf]

“My name is Lucivar, Drappa of this pack that you call home.” She said calmly, still holding her body tall and firmly imposing. She might’ve attacked the fae, if she had been a Kerl, but the youngling had informed Lucivar of her recent joining, figuring that Chalos or Mist had taken care of it. “Well then youngling, forgive me for not knowing your own name, normally I can pride myself in knowing all who reside in my family, but you as a new sister I do not know.”

Her tail wagged and she relaxed her pose, still holding herself tall to show her higher status, as was proper in the world of pack ranks. A gentle smile reached the Drappa’s muzzle, her hackles lowered, relaxing and she sat back on her haunches. Her pelt of three hues (brown, cream, and black) was beginning to fade, her body coloring itself whiter than any other dominant color, unlike before when she’d been much darker than she now was.

“I do hope the pack will forgive my absence, and if indeed a Balkan wolf has attacked you, you’d best stay within the pack – I’ll find Chalos and notify him of it when I see it.” She made sure to make a mental note to herself, if ever she did see that handsome Varg again she would be sure to tell him of the possible assault. “Did you do anything to provoke him?” She inquired, for there would be nothing she could do if the young she-wolf had brought the attack on herself. Well perhaps something could be done, but it wouldn’t be within the Drappa’s morals.

[Silve]

Once, being called sister by varg such as the this Drappa. But the scar on her shoulder seemed to throb with the word and she shivered, for the last to call her sister now wished for her death. The young silver wolf took care that her head not raise above that of her leader. "I apologize for my ignorance," she murmured softly. How shameful it was to not know her own Drappa. "I hope that the fact that I am so new may beg forgiveness." The silver wolf became slightly distracted for a moment, admiring flakes of snow as they fell to the ground and admired the perfect inequality with which they coated the ground.

Shaking her head she apologized again, "I must seem very featherbrained to you. The winter is just so beautiful in its harshness, and I cannot help but admire it." Her blue eyes sparkled as she saw the snow seem to adorn the other like an aura. However her happiness was marred by the next topic that Lucivar addressed. Her head lowered shamefully.

"He was not Balkan when I came upon him," she said softly. "He attacked very suddenly, and I thought him to be a friend. His name was Raknar, whom I thought dead before I saw him, and he thought I dead as well." She sighed, fearing to speak the words that she had not spoken to anyone at all, aside from the one called Solunar. She snorted scornfully at the thought of his name, for he had insulted her and the Night Sky, which in her eyes was nigh unforgivable. "Raknar is my brother."