the sun slow at his zenith, sweating gold

()

At the edge of the NC claim, checking out the trees Iomair marked. :)

"Some others of us—lost souls that we are—are gathering at the base of Mount Oromocto."

The words played through her head countless times, resurfacing when the world was quiet, and her paw pads began to itch. With Krokar's disbandment so too had her dreams of being an explorer and diplomat drifted away, but the prospect of another band in the wilds, refugees, drew her interest. Caledonia was a place of courts and lords, and it had fallen to fire-wielding attackers much like Krokar had. How could she ignore their presence in such a small world?

That—and Athras had said some curious things she wanted answers to.

"Well, Toklo, here we are," the brown wolfdog said, planting her feet and motioning toward the low, looming mountain. Behind her, on all fours with something like a saddle-bag strapped to his broad back, Toklo wagged his tail eagerly. "'less they're on the other side of the mountain, I suppose."

He sneezed laughter at that, then thrust up his chin in encouragement. He brushed past her to run down one of the slopes of the valley, sticking his nose at the base of fir and spruce trees. His curled tail wiggled over his grey-patched back; he seemed encouraged by the scents he picked up, and pressed onward.

At her Optime height, Willow noticed another sign first: claw marks in the wood. Her fingers traced over the fragile skin of a paper birch, brows lifted.

Iomair had stood on the edge of their camp quietly as Vodeva went through her prayers. The sound of her clicking beads was familiar in a way that reminded Iomair of the safe house – of the many trilling voices that had whispered faithfully to their gods. Vodeva had spent the morning collecting leaves and tiny branches, all of which were carefully stowed in the pockets of her dress.

Each leaf she tossed into the burbling stream made Iomair wince.

He knew what she wished for – more than anything.

Indis and Solas were out there somewhere – hopefully alive and far from the great war.

When she was finally done she stood stock still, eyes closed. She clasped her hands over the beads and remained silent for long breaths that Iomair could hear over the breeze. When she was finally finished she had spun on her heel, blinking with surprise when she realized that Iomair had been watching her.

”You should announce yourself.” She hissed vehemently, brushing past him with a grunt.

”I hope you prayed for us.”

She sniffed before disappearing into the camp. ”I always do.”

The trail that surrounded them was one that many Caledonians wandered – the grass pressed down by many ambling feet between the silvery birch trees. The Miramichi was beautiful in the verdant spring, and Iomair paused every few steps to marvel at clusters of flowers that sprouted valiantly along the path. The sound of voices made his ears prick forward, his dark mouth drawn into a firm line. He was surprised at the four-legged dog that careened down a nearby hillside, a tall woman meandering just behind.

Willow inspected the trees sternly, and Iomair cleared his throat to announce his presence before speaking.

Hello,” He smiled, ”It seems you’ve found New Caledonia.”

eeeee!

()

A man cleared his throat, and Willow glanced up with wide lake-blue eyes.

"Hello!" the Cormier woman replied warmly, her ears lowered and one hand raised in both greeting and sign of peace. She didn't want the Caledonian to think that she was some predator come to prey upon their vulnerabilities; who knew what suspicious thoughts might linger behind that scruffy smile?

She liked the look of him, though: the grizzle of a short beard, the earthen colors, all very familiar features to Willow.

"That's good, 'cos I was lookin' for ya," she continued. Off to her left, Toklo abandoned the scent trail and trotted back toward her, woofing a greeting. "Met Lord Eryn"—she mimicked the half-shadow's posh introduction with a lift of her chin—"an' he extended an invitation o' sorts?" She dropped her hands and adopted her characteristic humility, her eyes bright and searching. "I was just curious."

Toklo watched her gestures then glanced across at the stranger. "'m Toklo. We're from th' Shoal." His voice was somewhat flat and a little slurred in places, but his almond-shaped eyes sparked with interest.

"I'm Will'a," the woman added.

The woman was all hair and fur – a great mess of it stacked between her ears and a tuft of chin hair carefully kept in place with twine. Iomair was surprised by the reaction he had when she turned her eyes to him – for the color so reminded him of Indis, and it pained him. Her muzzle was speckled in brown, twisting and turning to meet her collar bone before it disappeared beneath her cloak. She was bright and warm with a voice like buttery sunlight, and Iomair found himself smiling despite himself.

”Ah yes,” Iomair pricked his ears toward the wolf-dog and chuckled, ”I am glad that he did not scare you away.”

”Come, come. I will show you the lay of our camp.” The living area was behind them a ways, and so he turned with a welcoming gesture to have her follow him toward where the collection of ramshackle tents and lean-to’s had been constructed. The four-legged dog spoke loudly, the smudge of color on his brow furrowing as he followed them along the path. Iomair smiled and dipped his head as he introduced himself, "I am Iomair Nartholiel."

The man canted his head and peered at Willow, ”I can imagine he took quite a liking to your name.”

eeeee!

()

"I en't scared easily," replied Willow with a playful click of her teeth.

She pricked her ears as the warm-hued wolfdog invited them into the campsite, and with an exchanged glance she and Toklo followed him through the birches. As the trees thinned, the scent of other canines grew stronger, and she could begin to make out the shapes of hide tents and a clearing with a campfire. Though newer, it reminded her of the Shoal's humble camp, and she found herself smiling sadly.

"Nice t' meet ya, Iomair," Willow said, ignorant as to any titles she should apply to the man. Athras had been quite specific with his own, though this stranger seemed more modest than the dark-robed lord. Memory of their meeting made her chuckle, though, as Iomair studied her with his gold eyes and mentioned her name. "Yeah, he said he rather liked it." She brushed her fingers over a fern as they walked.

"He said Caledonia fell to fire," she went on, her tone more serious as her gaze sought Iomair's, impressing this upon him. "Now, my home did, too. En't sure if it was the same sorta thing, but my family knows loss." She pushed some wiry brown hair away from her honest face. "I wasn't there when Krokar burned, so the pain en't as strong as my family's, or Lord Eryn's, but..."

She huffed and glanced toward Toklo, signing something quick, her brows and one side of her mouth quirked in an exasperated sort of question.

"Will'a means we c'n be friends," the boy said plainly, and Willow smiled thanks.

He found that the more the freckled woman spoke the more that he found himself comparing her accent to the scruffy faced boy he had met in the South. She was warm all over, the sparkling in her eyes enhanced by the friendly way she gestured with her hands or smiled openly at him while she spoke. ”I admire that quality.” He dipped his head and grinned, his hands clasped behind his back as they walked further into the camp.

From here it was obvious that they lived a simple life. The tents and lean-tos were in disrepair, the camp fire smoking lazily into the cloud smudged sky.

Iomair couldn’t help the expression that befell his features, for it was all at once sad and curious as she mentioned her homeland and how it too had been destroyed by fire. ”I am sorry to hear that. You know, I met a boy down south who mentioned something similar had happened to him.” His eyes sparkled, ’It can’t be coincidence. His name was Percival, do you know him?” He glanced at Toklo and offered another smile, for he was uncertain how smoothly the dog was able to follow his mouth.

”Pain can be felt regardless of your tie to the incident.” He bowed his head, ”I understand. When the fighting began in our old country I was elected by the Clans to lead them through the war. Before that I was a soldier, eager to fight for all that I believed in.” He glanced at Willow, ”Being King complicated things. I could not die in the field, or fight alongside my brothers and sisters. I was needed to make decisions, to show strength and solidarity despite the chaos we were surrounded by.”

He tensed his hands, ”Many died while I was safe.”

I might bring in Vodeva in the next post but I can't decide!

()

Scruffy brows quirked as Iomair listened, and when he mentioned a boy whose home had suffered a similar fate, Willow blinked stupidly. Then she laughed a little, pushing a tangle of wiry hair out of her face and nodding. "That's my lil brother," she said, her tail wagging, as she signed a quick "he met Percival" to Toklo. "Good kid, innit he?" It was interesting that another of her family had already met the Caledonians.

She wondered wryly whether any of them had met Lord Athras.

Iomair continued, and Toklo's almond-shaped eyes followed his mouth until the dog faced Willow's way again. The man wove a story about the fighting in his homeland, his election, his hands clenched into fists and his guilt unspoken. Wide, lake-blue eyes studied the scruffy man with surprise, and Willow made a soft sound.

"Reckon I understand, too," she murmured. After all, she had been safe while her family suffered grief and terror on that scarlet-lit night, though it was because of fate rather than any particular duty. "You were King though. Wow." The way he carried himself did not seem like royalty, more like a kindly captain (which was the sign she used as she translated her speech for Toklo, if grander in its motion).

"But... Y' led them here, didn't you?" Willow pointed out. "Those left."

It seemed that somehow Iomairs path had become intertwined with the Parhelion family and The Shoal – and something deep down had him wondering if Vodevas prayers had brought the kind hearted family to New Caledonia as she threw everything she had to her Nín. Percival had explained to him a small part of their River Goddess and he had been surprised at the parallels he had been able to draw between them. Willow grinned and explained that the shaggy boy was her little brother he couldn’t help but nod his head with understanding.

”A very good kid.” He chuckled, ”He helped me find something that I thought I’d lost.”

His tail gave a wag behind them as they continued toward the centre of the camp. Toklo trailed after them eagerly, the friendly glint in his eyes curious as he glanced between the two wolves as they conversed. Iomair took note of the way Willow gestured to him and the way he seemed to blink with understanding each time she did. It was a marvelous way to communicate, and Iomair found himself intrigued with the way her fingers indicated to him so that he could follow along.

”I am hopeful that we will be able to build something new here. Something better than before.” He said gently, gathering his hands and clasping them behind his back. ”We managed. I am hopeful that others will find their way here too… eventually.”

”-Iomair?” The voice was stern, and the man pricked his ears at the sound of a crackling flame. Vodeva appeared a moment later, straight backed and with an expression that was tight with caution – her hands wrapped tightly around her prayer beads. She assessed Willow with a look that ran over her in seconds, ”Who is this?”

Iomair padded between them and grasped his wifes elbow as if to guide her forward – though attentive eyes would see the way that she was forced to lean into him for support.

”This is Willow and Toklo – friends of Athras, our Lord Regent.” He glanced at them, ”And friends of ours.” Vodeva sniffed but said nothing her gaze unrelenting.