ooc: southern border, at the coast. Oct 14th, just after the Freetown trip and thread with Shiloh. | wc: 597

The siblings spent two weeks or so scouring the area before concluding they were stuck. The natural formation of the terrain presented them with obstacles -- a mountain to the north, and a wide lake too grand to swim across. In the stretches of land on either side of the lake were two distinct packs, their borders ripe with wolf scent. They had made a foolish mistake, and now they needed to get out of the area and lay low for some time while the dust settled. They just needed to decide their next move. Cosette wanted to try her luck trespassing, sneaking along the coast and taking cover behind the trees until they were free on the other side again. The thought of such a daring exploit was tantalizing to her impulsive nature, but Clopin was her voice of reason, staunchly refusing. This was not their world: it was a pack of wolves, larger and stronger and more cohesive as a unit than the southern dogs they grew up with. If they were caught trespassing, they could very well be executed for their crime. He urged her to take the patient route and scale the mountain; it would take longer, but it would keep them free from any sticky situations with the northern wolves.

Bells jingled as Cosette stalked back and forth, pacing restlessly near the border of the coastal pack. She was tense and achy all over, stinging from the beating she had received at the hands of the wolf with the stick. "We could just shift down, roll in the border scent, and pretend to be new recruits if we get caught," she wheedled, but Clopin's good eye glowered at her, making her huff petulantly. "Oou don' know t'eir rules," her brother slurred haltingly. "T'ey might no' take dogs, only wooves. Or t'ey'll recognize us." The tiny female crossed her arms, jutting her lip in a pout. He was right, of course; her quick wit would only protect her so far, and if she had no prior knowledge of the territory, she could not hope to construct a passable alias. They wouldn't have much time before the stick-wolf would warn her packmates, too. She growled faintly in frustration, kicking a pebble in the direction of the pack. She stubbornly refused to waste her time climbing a mountain. It sounded lonely and boring. Infiltrating a den of wolves was far more intriguing to the young collie-dog, even just after the bruises she had gotten from a con gone wrong.

"Fine, bougre, how about this? We tell them we are here and barter for safe passage. If they refuse, we can still try the other pack, get a second chance before we resort to sneaking. Is that acceptable?" Her plumed tail lashed stiffly behind her, clearly not offering him any other option. Clopin grunted noncommittally, still displeased to deal directly with the pack. What if they were betrayed, or attacked on sight? The wolf they had accosted carried this scent, and if she had spread the word of what happened, they would be in grave danger. Still, it was a better choice than her first plan, and he grudgingly rose from the rock he was seated upon, moving to stand behind her with his hands on her shoulders. She pointed her lean muzzle to the morning sky, high voice singing out in a howl. Clopin joined her, his deeper tone hoarse from disuse but providing an off-key harmony nonetheless. They would take their chances with a direct meeting. They could always flee if they had to.

Keen eyes scanned the coastline, waiting for a response to their howl. Clopin noticed him first, the dark shape of an approaching Optime. He tensed, searching for any signs of hostility or weaponry; thankfully, this one did not have a staff to beat them with. Cosette's tail waved in greeting, mirroring the dark wolf's friendly body language. Inwardly her mind was racing, looking for any clues to go off of; he wore two necklaces and an article of clothing, he carried the heavy scent of this pack and another female, he offered them an amiable handshake in greeting, he spoke with a foreign accent. All the facts were filed away in the blink of an eye, and the petite collie-dog reached out to accept his hand, feeling her tiny paw engulfed in the stranger's grip. Clopin tensed behind her, ready to yank her back should the wolf try anything violent. The two males stood at eye level to each other, leaving Cosette dwarfed in comparison.

The most convincing lies were built around a kernel of truth. Cosette was quick to launch into her narrative, dark eyes gazing up at him with relief through the veil of her fluttering eyelashes. "It's not safe out there, Sir Stormbringer. My brother and I was just attacked by some wolf! We was only minding our business," she said pitifully with traces of her deep south accent, a slight hitch in her voice mimicking a sob. She ruefully rubbed her face, the very real bruise on her skull lending credibility to the story. The part she so conveniently left out was that the wolf was one of Niernan's packmates, and they had been attacked because they had attempted to steal from her. There was a limited time frame to pull this off; soon the white stick-fighter would spread word and alert scouts like this male, and the collie-dogs were very distinctive in appearance, easy to recognize even by description.

She swallowed, feigning a nervous shiver, while silent Clopin helpfully rubbed her shoulders in reassurance. In actuality it was their pride that had been stung the most; Cosette was a very arrogant creature who always believed she was smarter than those around her, and having some brutish woman smack them around with a pole had been sorely offensive. Playing the innocent simpleton was often a much easier tactic to get her way, though, rather than letting on how clever she truly was. "We're simple fortunetellers, we just travel from place ta place reading the cards ta help folks in their lives. We don't mean no harm. If y'all could see it in your heart ta let my brother and me cross through ta the other side of your borders, we could give ya a fortune in return... It's all we got ta offer," she added with a humble bow, Clopin nodding in taciturn agreement. Her dark eyes gleamed as she studied the wolf, a 'Vald of Vi-naw-tta' as he called himself, and waited to see if he would believe them.