Remember that threads take place the date their posted; this would be more than a month after she met Vesper! You can also look at the map for a good idea of where the swamplands are. /+5

Ephraim was used to bounding through deep snow, pushing it aside with his white chest or wading through it in his optime form. Oftentimes the snow froze in clumps to his thick greyish-brown fur, slowing him down and making it even more of an effort to get from Point A to Point B. It was something that he’d had to deal with in his tundra homeland, and so he knew he’d have no problem with the less substantial snows in Nova Scotia.

This mud, however, was a different matter.

He had shifted almost as quickly as he’d wandered along the swamplands separating AniWaya territory from the southwestern coast. His paws had sunk into the mud, creating sucking noises as he attempted to pry them free, and the bottom of his long belly fur had been dirtied. Once he had changed into a two-legged shape, the going had gotten easier, but he still found himself almost losing balance as the mud gripped his paws. More than once he found himself hanging onto a tree branch to help pull himself free and keep his balance.

The eunuch groaned. Scouting out the southern part of the land had definitely taken its toll on him; he was better off heading north next time. There didn’t seem to be much here, though he’d seen a moose stepping through the mud and sparse marsh glass in the distance. Birds sang from time to time, their voices unusually loud in the silence of the day, but he found himself alone for the most part.

And the humidity! He’d seen autumn as a dry season, unlike the thick heat of summer. The air was moist here, though, and he was only grateful that the swiftly approaching winter turned the air cool. His thick pelt couldn’t take anything less. Shaking his head, he pushed some of his dreadlocks out of his face and pressed onwards, hoping to find at least some mudskipper or other animal that he might be able to eat.

What he found instead was a strong equine scent. He’d gotten used to horses since his time with the Tribe, recognizing that they were not food but rather mounts for the AniWayans. He hadn’t visited the stables often, though, so he was cautious as he walked through. Maybe one of them had broken free? Frowning, he walked toward the scent of the horse, knowing that if it was an escaped animal he’d have to bring it back to the Tribe. He just hoped he knew how to handle it.

Ephraim paused between the trees when he spotted the horse at last, a stout breed though one whose name he didn’t recognize. However, just a few feet away from the herbivore was a young luperci leaning against a willow tree. She wasn’t the age he might have liked, but any potential company would be welcome, especially if he had to be stuck in this godforsaken swamp any longer.

But the older man wouldn’t come to her like this. The eunuch was very canny, but he would put on the same act as he did with every other stranger he met. He found people’s tongues loosened around idiots, and maybe presenting himself like a fool as usual would make her less wary of him.

And so, grinning from ear to ear, Ephraim walked toward her and lifted one paw in kind greeting. “Hello, precious girl. Is this handsome beast yours?” He gestured toward the horse then bowed to it, giggling.

The white-furred girl made a protective move toward her horse, as if paranoid he was going to attack or something. To prevent her from panicking, he broadened his grin and let his movements become a little sloppier, as if his height was too much for him. He wasn’t the tallest luperci, just at the tall end of the average due to his large wolf genes. Most of his weight came from hidden muscle, thick fur, and of course the pudge of belly he’d never been able to get rid of.

Leigha introduced herself after a chuckle, and Ephraim nodded. He dipped his head slightly again. “The name’s Ephraim Fisher,” he said, “or Ephy if you want, I don’t mind.” He smiled at her horse again, deciding from its easy nature with her that it wasn’t one of the Tribe’s. He didn’t recognize the sturdy grey cob, anyway, and so he knew that he wouldn’t have to take the animal back. It filled him with a sense of relief, honestly. Horses could be damn stubborn animals depending on their personalities, especially ungelded stallions.

Though geldings could pack a punch, too. Ephraim was a prime example.

“What’s your horse’s name?” he asked, before sniffing the air more carefully. Now that he was paying attention, he could smell a familiar pack odor on her and the horse. His grin broadened—though this time genuine rather than a silly act. “You’re from d’Arte!” he exclaimed, not giving her time to answer the earlier question. “Do you know a Sky Rhiannon there?”

He glanced at the horse as it spoke to the wolf; apparently she knew enough low speech to communicate with it. Wanting to keep prey strictly from companionship, Ephraim had never bothered to learn the skill. His ears turned forward as the girl burst into laughter, hanging onto her horse in a half-hug, half-support while telling him what Archie had said.

“Is he a king?!” Ephraim asked, brown eyes widening. “Well, well—what’s his place in the herd?” He grinned. “I am but a lowly court jester.”