His pursuit of the young doe had brought him deep into the heart of Inferni's forested territory. His quarry was agile and quick, though sheer luck was on his side: her hoof slipped on a wet patch of moss and she stumbled to the ground. Anselm's sprint shifted down into a brisk trot, his large paws carrying him expertly through the wooded terrain. Even if she rose to limp away, he would be able to catch her quickly; for now she seemed to realise that it was over. A soft, panicked bleat was cut short by the hunter's jaws; the call would never reach the rest of the herd, who'd long since scattered.


        With that the forest was quiet and the only sound to be heard was his own rough panting. Even this did not last, however, and the secui nosed the deer onto her side before tearing into the soft flesh of her belly. Within minutes the tastiest morsels were sitting in his merry stomach: the heart, the liver, the lungs. Months of famine had taught him to take dessert first, even at the sacrifice of not being able to savour it. Licking some blood away from his muzzle, he began to chew on the flank next as filler. Perhaps he would bring the remnants back to Alacrity... although he'd have to haul it clear across the territory, he felt it no burden to make sure his African goddess was kept well fed and safe.


        The hybrid had settled into a crouching squat over his kill, his ears twitching endlessly and his eyes glancing up often from the warm meat. Even as he reached the bone and cracked through to lap at the tasty marrow inside he remained vigilant, as conflicting needs arose within him. On one hand, he wanted to share his kill with the wild dog; on the other, he wanted to wrap up, get a good drink, and patrol their perimeter. It was midday already and he hadn't done his usual round. Slightly raised hackles betrayed his internal anxiety, though easily he could have passed as just another wolf guarding his food.


hyeee. sorry about the wait >_o i don't know what pack they should go to yet. PV and DDM seem most appropriate, but Snake's already gone to the latter recently, so ... maybe they could discuss that, and go to the former? Maybe we can find someone from there to meet us.

Snake was spending the day searching Inferni for food, though his luck was not nearly as good as Anselm’s. Perhaps it was just that he hadn’t been here long enough to realize the good hunting spots, but certainly he had been here long enough? It would be three months now in a few weeks, and he still didn’t know everyone. He was a reclusive man, keeping to himself and his den in the ancient car in the Landfill, so he didn’t really mind. But perhaps it might have been smarter to track down some of the locals and grill them for the word on where to find something to eat in the lean winter months.


He was moving along swiftly in the forests, quadruped, but in his leaner Lupus form rather than his Secui. It was more because he expected to find smaller game rather than larger quarry, and he usually felt a little more nimble in his most basic of bodies. The sandy-furred coyote was already keen to the scent of food, so, when he came in the radius of where he could smell the thick, sickly-sweet scent of blood, he automatically began to track it down. It overpowered any scents of any other coyote there, and he thought it best to check. Perhaps he would be lucky after all.


Unfortunately, the deer’s blood had not been spilled by accident—no, it was quite on the purpose of the hybrid that regarded over the half-eaten corpse. Snake stopped many yards away from the scene, ready to dash away with the slightest show of aggravation from the other Inferni member. Snake remembered from his distant childhood that many were extremely protective of food—especially during winter—so he wouldn’t take any chances… Especially not when the creature he regarded already looked angry at something, the way his fur prickled like quills along his shoulders and spine. It did not make Snake nervous (for he rarely felt such feelings), but it did make him cautious.

The stranger did not notice him off the bat, but after he stepped on some particular volatile leaves and twigs underfoot, he did attract his attention. Snake regarded him neutrally, his olive eyes reflecting the impassive expression on his face. The hybrid very vaguely reminded him of Gabriel (if not simply for his blood, mixed of wolf and coyote), though something that also reminded him of the Aquila was a certain look in his odd red eyes. It was a spark like misty recognition which gave Snake the suspicion that he looked familiar, though they had never met. It was odd to the younger coyote. He had never really noticed how much he and his parents looked alike, so it did not occur to him.


The stranger’s question, at first, confused him. Snake did not really understand any kind of casual or slang references, especially when it came to things like this. He refrained from saying that there was no news, sir, and sought a middle path between shrugging off the question and mistaking it for inciting an introduction. In the end, he merely introduced himself, “I’m Snake, the Hastati.” He added his rank because, instinctually, he felt as though this stranger was one of those members of the clan that had been here a long time. Plus, he wanted to be distinguished from the rest of the newcomers—especially since he’d been here two months.


He remained cautious, even when the other male amiably offered whatever else was left of the carcass to Snake. Though he doubted it was a trick, he approached with measured steps. His eyes were, for a short while, incredulous in remaining on the red-eyed hybrid. But eventually he realized this could be interpreted as rude, and he focused on the food. He respectfully avoided the areas of the kill that the alpha might target, subordinate in mind as he used scything teeth to tear several mouthfuls of the meat from the corpse. After he swallowed and licked most of the blood from his lips, he regarded the stranger with a blank expression and said, “Thank you.” Though his face could never be interpreted for his thoughts, his voice was a better avenue, and it was dutifully grateful. Snake was pleased that now his day was mostly clear—with food out of the way, he would have to find something else.

@&#&$Anselm watched the other's stoic, militant display with some level of amusement. He, too, had been remarkably aloof in his earlier days--his expressions now were more learned behaviours than instinctual. He would still fall back on the blank façade when meeting someone he was unsure of for the first time (or in the presence of an enemy), but gradually the introvert had picked up on the subtle social queues that seemed to make conversation and interaction flow a little bit easier. Needless to say, any gesture or emotion he offered now was conscious and deliberate, though over time he'd perfected it to an art--it looked completely natural, non-forced.
@&#&$"Snake, huh. You've got folks around here?" he wondered simply, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "Another de le Poer here," he offered with a wink before gulping down another mouthful of meat. Though his side of the family was more wolf than anything, these days they were (almost) as synonymous with Inferni as the Lykois. "Name's Anselm, at any rate. And please, no sense in letting this go to waste." It seemed as if the coyote had hardly put a dent in the meal; the Caelum hoped he wasn't holding back out of courtesy.

@&#&$Only now did he regard the remains--enough was left for someone else to scavenge a meal, though at this point he resolved to catch Alacrity something else later. "Couldn't decide if I wanted to haul it back or not anyway. You do a run around the borders at all today?" Perhaps if he had, he could fan out further. Holding down the fort was one thing, but it was good to keep tabs on the happenings of the rest of the neighbourhood, too. Though things had been quiet, with the winter months settling in it seemed sensible to take a quick inventory on the other packs. How strong was their membership base; did they have enough resources?

Perhaps if they ever got on the topic, Snake would be fascinated to talk with Anselm about their personalities, for it seemed he would find a kindred spirit in him. The younger coyote had never really exhibited much emotion, even when he had been a whelp. The training he had received at such a young age, and especially how he had been treated by his supposed father and his twin brother, had definitely stunted whatever had been there in the first place. If he ever did “learn” emotions, he would have to be much like Anselm—be conscious in achieving and displaying them. For, usually, he felt nothing except the barest sorts of thoughts: surprise, interest, and such things.


The red-eyed hybrid cut to a question that Gabriel had never gotten to, and one that Snake answered he had swallowed the bit of food that he had in his mouth and licked his lips clean once or twice. “Not now, but they were here before. They had their own group, but I can’t remember the name of it.” He knew it had something to do with a hollow, but he couldn’t remember the rest. It was especially pointless to mention the name since he had spoken to Kaena about it and she had mentioned Celestial Hollow, which had been around long ago but much longer than his parents’ group of gypsies.


The older man introduced himself as another de le Poer, and Snake’s mind immediately linked him to Gabriel. He thought they might look a little similar, though he didn’t know how close they were in family. But still, Inferni had seemed to him to be a little family-oriented, mainly around the de le Poers and Lykois. It alienated Snake mostly, but it wasn’t really like he wanted to be in on the big, happy family. Family wasn’t his thing. He’d rather stay off by his lonesome for the most part—that was the reason he’d left his parents in the first place.


Anselm de le Poer was his name, and by this time Snake had finished whatever he was going to take from the food that the older hybrid had offered him. He took a respectful step back, replying when he was asked a direct question, “Yes, sir. There was nothing out of the ordinary.” He tried to do at least one patrol when he woke up, though it was largely to make sure Daisuke wasn’t getting smart and wandering into Inferni lands again. At least if his lupine friend was, he could track him down quickly and pretend that he was escorting him out… or something. Snake was perpetually afraid of his friend getting seriously injured with his ignorance to the pack boundaries. He had already gotten scars from fighting here once before, and something told him those would not be the last. Perhaps the coyote should learn to let him reap what he sowed, but Snake would patrol regardless. It was something he felt he should do, for Inferni if not for himself.


Though it was somewhat out of character, he continued, as he felt a little curious. When he had first come here, he had heard of lots of issues with surrounding wolf packs, but for the two months he’d been here, nothing. “It has been calm since I came here a few months ago, and I have heard all these rumors of trouble with wolves.” It was a statement, though his olive eyes remained watchful as he looked for any response from Anselm.

@&#&$Though it was hardly surprising, it was hard to find a pureblood anything this day in age. Even before the fall of the humans, the wolves that had been driven out of their rightful range by man had interbred with the coyote population--now that formerly domestic dogs ran feral, it only made sense that they filter back into the bloodlines as well. Anselm wouldn't be entirely surprised if, years down the road, they all equilibrated into some relatively homogeneous breed. Snake, however, was about as coyote as they could come.
@&#&$Anselm only knew one other group that had coyote leadership in the past: "Oh, Esper Hollow?" Anselm hadn't thought much of the gypsy band since his return; out of sight, out of mind. Still, he was intrigued to learn that one of their offspring was kicking around back here. Neither Laurel nor Nikita had struck him as extremely confrontational; he'd rather liked both. Why Snake had chosen to come here he was not sure, but he saw no sense in asking. Maybe if he'd been the one to interview the teen on the day of his acceptance such a thing would have seemed appropriate, but by now there was really no point.
@&#&$"Awesome," he said simply with a nod, pleased by both the news and the fact he would no longer feel compelled to do a quick swoop. To top it all off, Snake was quickly turning into one of the least obnoxious yearlings he'd ever met: calm, comfortable, and quiet, yet responsive. Where some individuals the Hasati's age made him feel like some sort of baby sitter, he could tell this coyote would not. And although the Caelum felt compelled to keep all Infernian's up to date on pack affairs, it was nice to be prompted about it for once--it demonstrated initiative and concern.
@&#&$"Yeah; Phoenix Valley was causing headaches in the summer, but I spoke with their subleader and she only expressed a desire for peace. I don't think we've really heard a peep since... fine by me, but it might be nice to check it out," he offered. "Dahlia's been staying out of our hair, too, but..." he trailed off, frowning. "I'd prefer to think of it as the calm before the storm, so long as that asshole Haku is running the joint."

Snake had been searching for the elusive name of his parents’ group for weeks, and the information clicking into place in his brain was apparent when Anselm offered the name. “That’s right,” he said, his tone lifting a fraction as he felt the relief of finally getting the name. He had talked to Kaena about it earlier, but all she could remember with the word ‘Hollow’ in the name had been Celestial Hollow, and that was from ages back. And truthfully the reason for Snake’s being here was just as vague as anything—something along the lines of “why not?” He hadn’t wanted to travel with his parents much longer and when the wanderlust struck him, he remembered some of the stories they told of this place. They had also told him indistinct directions to get there, so it was to Souls he came; there was little more than that to the story.


He dipped his head respectfully as the Caelum expressed gratitude for the news—it seemed as though things were largely quiet for the time being. Snake was not complaining, though he had certainly painted a different picture upon arriving and hearing so many different takes on the neighboring wolves and their aggressive antics towards their distant coyote cousins. The youth, among all others, had no reason to abhor fighting—quite frankly, he believed he had been born and raised for it. If fighting was on the horizon for Inferni, he would ready.


The olive-eyed coyote listened keenly to the older Inferni member’s knowledge, acknowledging that Phoenix Valley was not as belligerent as they had once been, but that Dahlia de Mai was much more of a quietly ticking time bomb. At the mention of Haku Soul, Snake went into some thought. He remembered the journey he and Hezekiah had went on, where they had gotten quite close to the boundaries of the pack and had been eventually thwarted by a mysterious, blue-eyed wolf. “I believe I might know who you are talking about,” he mentioned, though he had no other reasons to believe it was him. Still, he had been pretty asshole-like, and Snake remembered that his scent seemed like that of an established member. He would rather not go back there while his memory was fresh in mind, so he looked to Anselm with a small glimmer in his usually-dull eyes. “If things are so quiet, however, would it be an idea to go and check up on Phoenix Valley? We wouldn’t have to trespass… Just take a quick look.”

The description that Anselm put out about Haku Soul definitely made Snake believe it was the Dahlia leader that he had encountered—that did not make him feel any better about their belligerence. That werewolf had not been one to take lightly; Snake was a soldier, which meant that he was pragmatic, not idealistic. If ever war did break out once more, there would have to be the cunning and sheer ferocity of the coyotes that would overcome their bigger, lupine cousins. Snake certainly knew that he would be especially careful if he ever faced the opponent leader again.


He dipped his angular head at the slight praise; it made him feel somewhat uneasy as always (Snake was humble almost to the point of self-deprecating, so he did not take such things well), but he did not refuse it. He was pleased to know that one of the core members of Inferni was pleased with him being there, regardless. Sometimes he felt like a freeloader, so he was more than happy to accompany the hybrid Caelum on a brief journey to the Valley.


Seeing as though he did not know the way nearly as well as the other, Snake mostly did a lot of following, though he kept close attention. If things ever did sour between Phoenix Valley and Inferni once more, he would know the best route. He kept as silent as could be (which, for someone who had been trained in stealth, was respectable) until they came through the woods to where the borders of the wolf pack. He noticed with vague approval (not that that meant much) that his companion had shifted to his Lupus form—it was much less conspicuous than the burly halfling form, to say the least. Things were largely quiet and unassuming as they approached the borders until an unusual bleating broke the still. Snake’s ears flicked toward the sound, though he did not start. When he was in his sneaking mode, he was trained to expect the unexpected, and to adapt.


Soon the owner of the calls arrived, a farm mammal that was coated in cottony wool that made it look more like a cloud than an animal. Anselm seemed thoroughly confused by it, but Snake knew what it was—some his parents’ friends had been farmers, and he remembered staying on their ranch to the south for a while before leaving them. “A sheep,” he said, though adding, “They are farm animals, domesticated. They do not usually roam.”


Which made the question come to mind—where was the shepherd of this wayward sheep? He remembered some stories about shepherds from his mother, and especially of the really good one who would do anything to protect his flock from straying and ravening wolves and whatnot. Though Snake did not understand any religious affiliations to the terms, he knew that if this sheep was awry and it was being watched by a good shepherd, that person would soon show up… Which meant that the two Inferni coyotes would have to play this one safe if they did not want to get in trouble.

@&#&$Snake's footfalls were so hushed during the trip he nearly forgot he had company at all. It didn't immediately occur to him that the yearling may have trained specifically for this purpose, leaving him to postulate about smaller feet, a lower body weight, being closer to the ground to see what he was stepping on, and a million other factors that almost made sense. No matter how careful he was or how comfortable he was in his own skin, the smaller clan members seemed like they would always have one up on him in the stealth department. Anselm could be reasonably quiet when he was trying hard enough--i.e., while hunting--but for the most part he just crashed around, damned if he cared that anyone overheard him.
@&#&$Needless to say, he was more surprised that the younger boy knew what the damn thing was called. "Well, that's no wonder," he remarked. "Bloody thing may as well have thrown itself into our jaws," he clarified, shocked that it would bother to venture so near the two predators. The deer seemingly knew better than to approach canines on the prowl--this animal must've missed the memo. Maybe it was secretly super smart and knew they'd just eaten? That seemed pretty unlikely, and he watched as a pale woman, familiar especially for her size, appeared and drove it back to the other side of the border. Aha; Snake had said it was domesticated--maybe it was so used to the wolves' company that it simply didn't care. The little nip she gave it was hardly consequential, not even enough to draw blood.
@&#&$His dark-tipped ears fell back instinctively as she turned to address them. "You've many more?" he wondered, though any further questions he might have had were cut short as she addressed him. Joule. How long had it been since he'd used that alias? It was certainly back before he got his tattoos--if he recalled correctly, it was before he'd attained any significant status in Inferni. He'd habitually lied about his name in the past when he danced through new territories on a regular basis, figuring if nobody could pin down his identity new packs were more likely to be patient with his trespasses than those of a "repeat offender." The habit had bled over into the time where the wolf packs first established themselves here, having seemed plenty sensible at the time... now he wasn't so sure.
@&#&$"Oh, yeah, Naniko, right?" he replied smoothly, buying himself just the split second of time he needed. "It's been a long time. I don't really go by my middle name any more," he added with a friendly smile and a few wags of his tail. Sure, why not? "Anselm now, for my late father," he concluded with a short dip of his head. It was an entirely plausible story, delivered so flawlessly that nobody other than Snake might take issue with it. Who was going to badger him about his poor old man (who wasn't actually dead, of course)? It wasn't so unusual for a child to be given the name of his father, anyway. "And this is my friend Snake," he added in good time, using the boy as a diversion to detract from his close call.
@&#&$"Just a friendly visit. I take it you folks are well prepared for the winter then, eh?" he asked, figuring here it was best to not dance around the issue. Anselm didn't like to lie too much at once--even for his practised tongue, he grew uneasy after long enough. That she didn't seem awfully perturbed by their presence sort of surprised him; maybe that meant things had settled down completely between their two packs after all.

A vague smile appeared on Snake’s feature sat Anselm’s comment—it certainly showed a lot of trust to creatures whose mouths were full of sharp teeth. It was lucky that the two coyotes’ stomachs were full as well, thanks to the deer that Anselm had downed earlier. But just as he had thought, the shepherd did indeed show up. She was an alabaster wolf, bigger in stature than Snake was, with sharp green eyes. He was immediately wary of the creature—he knew that Phoenix Valley had had a problem with Inferni before, so he would not go letting his guard down now. She was certainly not gentle with the wandering lamb, delivering a sharp nip to its haunch that sent it fleeing back to where he expected the rest of the fold was… Just as Anselm seemed curious that there was a flock at all.


And now the younger coyote was put in the somewhat awkward position of someone completely new in the presence of two who knew each other from… somewhere. The fact that the woman recalled Anselm’s name as Joule was something that made the bandanna-wearing Hastati shoot him a sharp glance. He had no place to question his superior’s methods, but usually he had to be wary of those who used lots of aliases… though Snake himself had several surnames he used for himself. But that was something different entirely.


Anselm seemed to positively bring back the snowy-furred woman’s name as Naniko; Snake matched it to her appearance and her pack before storing that away. He was doing a lot of this note-taking while observing this interaction. For one, he was pretty impressed with how Anselm glibly stepped around his name-juggling—a middle name, hm? Clever. Snake might have to use that one in the future. The red-eyed de le Poer was probably lucky that his companion was so serious, else he would have started laughing and given him away. As it was, Snake’s face was as serious as stone.


The Caelum took Snake’s introduction to further themselves from the lie, though Snake thought it was pretty good enough to not need it. Regardless, he said to the wolf, “Nice to meet you, Naniko.” He even added a small pinch of warmth to his tone, though it was somewhat strange in his almost robotic way of speaking. Even, level. Nevertheless, he felt no need to add anything. Snake could lie sometimes, yes, but not very well. His face was a little too stoic to be dodgy and his wit was far too blunt to be silver. So he did what he was good at—remaining uninteresting, practically fading away into the background unless the watcher was interested in him.

@&#&$A passable lie was all in the delivery. Sound too formal or rigid, others got suspicious; take too long to respond, same result. These were variables he'd discovered and learned to master early on, but sometimes life liked to throw in one extra over which he had no control. In this case, it was extremely fortunate that Snake had done nothing to give him away; tit for tat, eh? He now considered them even, viewing this as acceptable "reimbursement" for sharing his kill earlier in the day. Although nothing in the world actually changed if he went by a different moniker, it would be harder to gain others' trust supposing they knew of his previous slippery, surreptitious habits.
@&#&$It seemed as if his smooth tongue and Snake's cool attitude had just bought them an inside look into Phoenix Valley's territory. He had not actually been within their borders since the seaside pack laid claim to the land--he'd only lingered around their perimeter, speaking with Geneva shortly after he returned from his year long gallivant. He simply offered a solemn nod in response to her condolences; he'd let Snake field the question directed his way. He took this moment to wonder about how his old man was actually doing; Carcharoth had to be going on seven or eight by now.

@&#&$It had been nearly three years since Anselm had seen him last--maybe he really was dead; maybe Ingrid was, too. Maybe he had siblings he knew nothing about. Perhaps he should have felt more strongly about the issue, but he couldn't really be bothered to care. What good would it do? A round trip journey would take an entire month and traipsing around a place he knew to be hostile--where he'd be recognised, no less--was really just not on his agenda. Although he cherished the hazy familial bonds he'd forged in Nova Scotia, he'd always felt distanced from his closely related kin in Vermont anyway. Maybe the knowledge they could all be dead the next day had kept him from getting too close--remarkably, things were more stable here than back in his birthplace.
@&#&$"Glad to hear it," he offered on the matter of being well prepared. While the male was slightly envious that Inferni wouldn't be so well off in case of famine, he was relieved to hear that their neighbours would have no reason to advance on their territory if things got rough. That singular fact counted for plenty on its own. And although he was certainly not hungry, he wasn't one to turn down the offer of free food. More than anything, he just wanted an excuse to get inside and check out these herds she spoke of--and he was genuinely curious about the meat. Besides, it would be rude to refuse, right? "That sounds nice," he said with a soft smile, his tail flopping in time with hers. "If I'd have known I'd have brought you some venison in return; we just ate, although I wouldn't mind a sample taste."
@&#&$He cast a quick glance to Snake and offered a short nod; with the woman's permission they scarcely had a reason not to proceed--furthermore, he was certain the astute youth would recognise the advantage in having an inside look into another pack's land. He looked back to their hostess, ears lowered further than before and tail not daring to budge from its place betwixt his hindquarters. "Lead the way!" he said, preparing to fall in line behind her. As they moved he'd likely have more questions, but for now he was more interested in visual and olfactory observations.

Snake was surprised to hear that Phoenix Valley had such a large amount of domesticated ranch animals—he didn’t think that sort of practice was common in these parts. Perhaps it was just that the coyotes around here in Inferni liked to rough it like it used to be when humans ruled the world. He had no real comments on it either way—he didn’t mind hunting, and, if he couldn’t cook it, he would eat it raw. But he had become somewhat spoiled when traveling with his parents; they were more “civilized” and often cooked whatever food they had, and a few of the places they had stopped had done the same, especially those on ranches and farms. He wondered how many of these wolf packs in these parts had institutions such as this one.


When Naniko commented on Anselm’s poor father, Snake gave a small frown. He felt sorry for her, in a small way—she was like putty in his hands, with the way that he lied his way out of awkward positions. But she seemed like a nice enough woman, and he dipped his head respectfully when she greeted him personally. “Yes, ma’am. I live in Inferni,” he responded to her question, substituting “being from Inferni” with “living there” because he didn’t want to create the illusion that he had been there from birth. Because he had really just been there for a fourth of his life.


His ear twitched somewhat when the discussion took a sharp turn—the white-furred wolf had been describing how the Valley would be well-stocked with flocks of sheep in case the winter became leaner than usual, and then went as far as to offer the coyotes in and even give them food. He might have even appeared surprised—his eyes widened a little, though his face was non-expressive regardless. One would have to think of his history to understand how such hospitality was flabbergasting to him. In his birthplace, New Haven, resources were fought for and usually went to the strongest combatant. On the road, they had found some kind hosts, but several packs and clans had chased them from their borders. He had been hounded similarly while finding his way to Souls after leaving his folks. The fact that this wolf was so willing to allow two coyotes into the heart of Phoenix Valley to share a meal was just… astounding to him. He knew that Inferni would not do something like that.


But that was no reason to turn down the offer! Snake was curious about this pack and their herds, and he was sure that Anselm was as well. “You are very kind to offer this to us, Naniko. I would be very grateful to come,” he said, keeping strictly to manners. It wasn’t that he was false—the words were genuine. It was just that it probably sounded odd in his dull voice.


His olive eyes met a furtive red glance from Anselm, and he gave a small nod. He then looked back to the gracious Phoenix Valley hostess, dipping his head once more and falling in line behind Anselm as they were led into the territory.

@&#&$Like a depression era grandma who squabbled over three cents on a gallon of milk at the check-out line, he'd never quite snapped out of that "famine mindset." Like his smaller companion, he'd grown up where resources were scarce--wolfing down any captured prey immediately was highly advisable as it was otherwise impossible to eat in peace. It was for this reason, too, that cooking food did not occur to him; if the scent of cooked meat didn't get 'em, then surely the smoke would. They'd be drawn in like moths to a flame, it'd take that much longer before the food could be eaten (supposing it wasn't done or it wasn't cool enough), and that didn't even touch on the fact it was wildly unnecessary. The Caelum was hardly a picky eater--though he certainly preferred fresh food to carrion, he didn't mind picking at another hunter's leftovers in the winter especially.
@&#&$As food was so plentiful in this pocket of the world, he found the sheer amount of regular violence doubly ridiculous. Pride didn't count for much when you were struggling to survive--with basic needs no longer a cause for concern, they were all free to get caught up in more trivial, superficial things. He'd long believed that egos alone stood in the way of peace here in Nova Scotia. No one who came from a desolate wasteland as he'd grown up in would ever want to fight supposing there was no real need; they'd be grateful for the general feeling of security. He'd been stuck in that rough and tumble frame of mind when he first came here, but into his older years he grew weary of such unnecessary bloodshed. In some ways he was simply tired of it; he craved stability more than anything else and inter-pack politics were certainly a part of that.
@&#&$That said, this cordial little visit was doing him rather well. Though he'd never be able to turn off the part of his brain that demanded he absorb absolutely every detail possible--from each unique scent to the more beaten in pathways--he did it calmly and almost passively. He did not feel the usual adrenaline rush he experienced when taking an inside look at another pack's land; this was largely due to Naniko's generally easy-going demeanour, but Snake's cool presence was also reassuring. By the time they reached their destination, there seemed as much white as dull greenish-brown--the herd was truly of a remarkable size. Any questions he might have had could now be "answered" by simple observation. He peered at the barns in particular, guessing that the animals holed up here at night or if it grew too cold outside.
@&#&$As she presented their intended snack he offered a gracious nod, sniffing at it curiously. "The texture of this animal's fur seems similar to that of some fabric found in the old city," he observed, poking at it with his nose. He waited to see if she would like any for herself first before tearing off a few small chunks. He chewed on the meat thoughtfully, savouring the unique taste rather than gulping it down all at once. "It reminds me of a mountain goat above all else--but more tender, less stringy," he remarked, impressed by the first quality most as the meat was partially frozen. If he'd known the difference, he would've simply called it less "gamey." As all food he ate had that wild, lean taste to it, he had no use for such a distinction (or the terminology that followed).
@&#&$"This whole set-up is mighty impressive," he complimented at last, as he licked the last few tastes of sheep from his lips. "If there is some way to collect these animals' milk, I may a business proposition to discuss with you in the future," he added, suddenly remembering Rurik's recipe. "That likely wouldn't be until the summer, though," he told her, assuming there was no sense in getting into the details now. He'd need the apples and other fruit before he could brew the samogon anyway. Something else clicked into place then, too; wasn't Naniko the woman Savina had spoken of? Maybe it was wrong to speak of a drug deal with the former Commander; maybe she wouldn't even be interested. She certainly seemed perfectly friendly and coherent now, but now he couldn't help but wonder. He fell into some sort of mental loop then, utterly uncertain as to whether or not he should follow up on his proposal if she expressed any interest.
@&#&$As with most else, he resolved to cross that bridge when he came to it. He offered a gentle smile, but somehow deep in his heart it felt wrong. He didn't want to run out on her after her display of generosity; perhaps they could discuss something neutral instead. "So what do you do for them deep in the winter? The sheep, I mean.. assuming not enough grass grows to keep them fed?" Yes; this seemed as good a topic as any. Perhaps they could discuss the woolly animals a bit longer before he and Snake took their leave.