integrity is the ability to stand by an idea

Early morning. Degaré and Talbot are at Krokar's southern border along the St. John's Chokehold/River. Both characters are in lupus form.

Refreshed from good hunting and rest, the two canines resumed their exploration in the pre-dawn hours, when darkness still touched the land. It was damp goings – dew clung to the grass and brush, and when they touched these it passed to their fur. Degaré didn't mind this. He was quite content having eaten, though the purpose which drove the pair was ever-present.

They had not seen anything by the water, despite all the claims, and proof was as important as faith.

Finding the river had become a priority. By sunrise they surmised they were close, as there was an increase in greenery and loud, singing birds that warned one another about their passage. Every so often Degaré would stop to investigate a curious scent. He marked his own places just as often, and grew increasingly thirsty as their long miles pressed on.

When they did find the river, it became apparent that others frequented the area. A path followed the curve north, and after drinking long enough to sate their needs, the two sought its source.

They found the borders in the early morning and there lingered with interest, discussing the claimed stretch of land and its implications.

Atop the Hallow Watchtower, a pair of pale blue eyes spotted them lingering along the river. Scrutiny drew lines across her face. She watched and she waited but, finally, caution necessitated action. Tilting back her head, the watcher sent a calm, clear call across the territory. And then she climbed down from her perch, secure in the knowledge that she would be joined by others soon.

"Hello," she called out to the pair, her posture assertive but not unwelcoming. "You have reached the territory of Krokar. Someone will be here soon who can help you."

A different day might have found Milos in Aster's Fields, his regular haunt, but this early morning had beckoned the Captain to Tuktu Lodge where he intended to complete the tanning process for a particularly lovely deer hide. As luck would have it, for better or for worse, Milos was elbow-deep in the smelly mixture of brains and water when Ilse's call reached his ears. He drew his arms from the muck and tried to wipe as much of the mess from his fur as possible before rinsing his arms in the river, sending her back a quick response to inform her – and whoever was waiting – that he was on his way.

Then, as quickly as he could, Milos rafted across the Great River and followed Hallow Crossing down to the border of their territory. There, he found Ilse – tall in her two-legged form – and the feral shapes of two men. Milos jogged toward them on his own two legs. "Hello there!" he called out jovially, slowing as he approached. He glanced at Ilse and then back at the strangers. "Name's Milos, Captain'a Krokar. See you've met Ilse already." A smile touched his sunny eyes. "What brings ya t' Krokar?"

OOC: HELLO. Please let me know if anything is no bueno. <3

[WC — 302]

spoiler alert i am so so slow

Someone howled. The pair sought the source but did not find it until a woman approached. She smelt of water, of animals, of others – this certainly was the place. Her words confirmed it, though she provided little beyond this. A lesser, then, to a more important speaker.

Degaré was used to the hierarchy of groups, though he saw himself as somehow separate from them. Terchová had been full of rules and laws and people who abused these when they saw fit. He was suspicious of power because of this, and had remained suspicious even when they had found the Watchtower.

Things were different with them, though.

Certainly, the red dog said with a pleasant smile, though provided nothing more until the second stranger joined them. This male was darker and carried more authority with him, but it was his means of arrival which seemed the most interesting. Both loners eyed the boat and the river as if these were curious new things to them, though Degaré's expression was harder to read. The damage to his face had done more than ruin his right eye.

Well met, Captain Milos and Ilse of Krokar, Talbot exclaimed. He seemed more friendly than Degaré, who remained silent throughout. We happened to hear of this place on our journey and came to see if what we were told was true, and indeed here you are! Though forgive us, we haven't introduced ourselves – my name is Talbot, and my good friend here is Degaré.

He glanced at the wolf as he said this, though Degaré seemed not to notice, focused as he was on the pair from Krokar.

The pair's speaker, a crimson-kissed hybrid with more friendliness and confidence than Milos had expected, offered an exclamation that elicited a small, agreeable bob from the Captain's nose. Of the other – a scarred and cobalt-eyed figure who looked more wolf than the one who addressed them – the Krokaran mere glanced at in a cursory sort of way. To the Captain, the speaker was the leader of the two, though he was not about to completely disregard the man's companion.

Next to him, Ilse watched the pair with scrutiny. A low-ranked Krokaran, the woman could be forgiven for her suspicions and lack of warmth. She had been a slave once, after all, and the experience had not dissolved from her memory. Except for those who she adequately knew, everyone was treated with mistrust.

But Milos, despite his own history, was an optimistic individual. Until they directly proved otherwise, he chose to see the best in everyone. "Here we are!" His smile grew as the russet man – Talbot, as it was – introduced the pair. "Pleasure t' meet ya both," he offered genuinely, dipping his dark nose. Milos glanced at the wolf with the scars and the sky in his eyes, but then focused on Talbot again. "What's it that th' two'a ya were told that drew ya to us, anyway?" he asked while Ilse, silent as ever, studied the pair.

OOC: r u kitten me rn? don't spoil meeeee. :c But srsly tho is okay. <333

[WC — 236]

It wasn't entirely unnew to be examined by the eyes of strangers. Degaré came to expect this – people always stared at him, even if they tried not to. He was disfigured and a man returned from the dead, so this was to be expected. This was less annoying than watching Talbot's striking features draw the eyes of tittering women (and a few forward men) more than a few times.

He satisfied himself with the landscape until the sensation of being observed began to make his skin crawl, and then forced himself to pay attention to the Krokarians. Dogs were becoming more and more common to him. It felt strange. The less often he saw other wolves the more alienated he felt.

Well we had been following a deer, truth be told – a meal often decides our path in the world, or so it seems, isn't that right?

Degaré scoffed. He lost the deer.

I'm easy to see, alas, Talbot woofed with laughter, and wagged his bushy tail. But our friend told us that you people took care of these waters – she neglected to mention you traveled them!

As his head began to turn, following the path of the water, Degaré asked: How far does the river go?

Milos understood Talbot's meaning intimately. "Reckon so!" he agreed jovially, giving his tail a swish. A spear-hunter, it sometimes took many long hours – occasionally even days – to locate, track, and fell a deer. And all the while, the miles expanded the distance from home and took him into places, and sometimes situations, that he never would have found himself in had he not been hunting.

Degaré's scoff drew Milos' sunny eyes but they flicked away again to Talbot when the flashy man spoke again. Ilse's eyes, though, remained on the scarred man.

"S'pose ya could say that," the Captain said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. They were mindful of their fishing practices, so as not to anger the River Goddess, so he supposed that it could be said that they were stewards of these sparkling tributaries. He grinned at mention of their mode of transportation. "Once ya get th' hang'a navigatin' 'em with a raft'r canoe, it starts t' feel almost natural, bein' out on the waters." For Milos, it had taken quite a long time to get to that point, but he was much more comfortable on the water now than he had been when he first joined.

Casting his eyes out across the river snaking ahead of them, Milos smiled. "This'un? Goes all th' way down t' th' sea," he said, looking at the pair again. "Goes through another pack b'fore that, though. Good t' be mindful'a that, if you're lookin' t' foll'a it."

Clearing her throat, Ilse addressed the pair with a nod. "Your friend," she began. "How did she come to know of Krokar?" She glanced at her Captain and added, "I am only curious if we might have a mutual connection with this individual."

[WC — 300]

We can start wrapping this up! You can either PP them leaving or I can reply again.

How interesting, Talbot mused. He seemed curious about the boat, and the idea of it, but Degaré had less trust for the water.

In Terchová, there had been three rivers which divided and provided for the land, but they took too. The Rapids were a place of death. Even if the stories weren't true, he had known several people who had vanished into the churning waters. More could talk on the voices of the fallen, which could lure the unsuspecting to an untimely end. Sometimes, they said, faces could be seen but never touched.

Water was dangerous. As their many-faced god controlled it, Degaré could only pray they were given safe passage to fulfill their purpose.

Oh, I suspect she lives around here. We met in passing, as we meet you now – I don't believe we caught her name, I'm afraid.

No, she didn't give it, Degaré admitted. But she was truthful.

Indeed, indeed – well, the sea may be our next destination. Rumor has it some...peculiar flowers grew near it. Would either of you know about that?

If Milos knew that Ilse was fishing for more than just the name of some possible acquaintance, he didn't show it. With sunny eyes back on the pair of strangers, he waited with his friendly smile and open posture for one – or both – of the men to answer his pack mate.

And their response, at least to Milos, was satisfactory. He had met a great number of strangers in his lifetime and, unless they gave him a reason to, it would be impossible for him to remember them all. Whether this mysterious individual had given her name or not, it seemed a minor detail to him that they didn't know it.

Her own period of brutality and captivity, however, had left Ilse less trusting. She made a sound in her throat that slipped between pursed lips in a hum of disappointment. "That is a shame," she replied after a long, hard stare. "It would have been nice to know from whose lips Krokar's name is being spoken."

Milos nodded in agreement but shrugged all the same. Krokar had seen four summers now; there were many lips from which Krokar's name might have passed. "Flowers?" His attention diverted, the Captain tapped his lips thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Can't say I have." Plants and flowers meant little to Milos unless they were useful to feed his livestock or be used to dye fabric.

Seeing that they were prepared to embark on the next leg of their journey, Milos shifted his weight and gestured for the wilds of neutral lands with a quick upturn of his chin, his smile ever present. "Wish ya luck'n safety on your journey," he said with another gentle wag of his tail. "Ya ever need anythin' else, well..." He gave a soft chuckle. "Reckon ya know where Krokar's at."

Watching the pair of loners until they disappeared within the thickness of verdant forest, Milos shared a pleasant look with Ilse before beginning back into the heart of Krokar, thoughts of chores and responsibilities ever present on his busy mind.

OOC: Yisssssssss we can end here! Feel free to archive after you've read it. :)

[WC — 349]