This is written after Noss's time in DDM and is dated to Oct. 7 It is written presuming he a) makes it out alive and b) is still lost -w- Thank you and have a nice day

WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, or extremely offensive material starting with the 1th post. Reader discretion is advised.

Today was not a fine day for Noss.

Despite the 'directions' he was given, he was still completely, horribly, irrevocably... Don't think it, don't think it...

Lost.

It was long since past afternoon as the sun seemingly careened into the horizon and twilight began. It was, admittedly, Noss's favorite time of day. But he was also grouchy from his experience in the Dahlia de Mai territory. Even back home we treat our betters with respect once we learn of their rank. That was all plain savagery. The huge grey wolf ran in loud, thumping leaps through steadily-changing scenery. It was all strange. The ground was begining to turn harder and harder and harder until it became smooth, solid stone. Steadily, concrete buildings and structures became visible, as if Noss were cresting a wave and coming to the peak. A Long Gone city, he mused to himself. He had only seen the few that were lying in decrepit bunches on the outskirts of the Moon Tribe lands, but otherwise, it was all very new to him. The twilight, already dark as the earth turned and winter drew closer, was further cast in shadow by the mass of the buildings that Noss skulked into, still believing himself completely on track where he was supposed to go. But with every step into the city, he became more and more convinced to face the truth of his position.

Moon curse this place... I come here to get Ralla home and I meet up with the most round-about place known to wolf-kind. Noss's hunger had been slaked earlier when he had caught a few more rabbits, and so he was fully aware to every sound and movement within a six mile radius; some miles having been shaved off because of the echo effect from the tall buildings. Begrudgingly, he decided to sniff around for a deserted building to take shelter in for the night. He shifted within a few short minutes--his shoulders and joints popping loud as he shook himself to get accustomed to his hulking optime form--before he confidently strided around, sniffing the air for any...unwelcome guests he may find. Rats are the most disgusting creatures... He curled his upper lip in distate at the thought. For all his bravado, Noss would never admit that his one true adverdance were rats. He would sooner chew his own tail off than let them near him. They carried diseases and had annoying chewing habits and the like.

Oh yes, when Ralla had found out, she had thought him the manliest older brother ever.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Such a sweet table <3 Also love your own table; Utada Hikaru is one of my favs

Noss's ears first perked to strain to hear what was coming his way. The scent had wafted to him much after, but earlier he had dismissed the noise for scavengers, so his nerves were on edge whether or not the origin would make its way closer to him. He turned, then, to face the steadily growing sound and face it head on. His eyes were narrowed as they strained to see who or what was coming towards him and he squared his shoulders to their full height. When he saw it was another wolf, the stance did not change. His experiance with Dahlia de Mai had not left a kind impression on the Chief-to-be, so he kept a dominant pose. He did, however, become a little confused when he saw the newcomer.

"Lost, buddy? Need help, or somethin?" The other wolf was only a few inches shorter than Noss, and much leaner. No longer threatened--at least by strength--Noss let the muscles in his arms relax slightly. The male in front of him was brightly colored and adorned with jewels; a rust red discernable near the tips of his fur. The lavender eyes that looked at him were lax, and Noss was reassured that he was not on another territory. That, or there was a trap nearby.

"Who are you?" Noss instead responded. His own deep voice held that special tone of 'watch-it' mixed in. Enemies were never pleasant, but Noss would rather be cautious than dead. The wound on his hind leg--Hmph; more like scratch--reminded him of how quickly the wolves in the land seemed to react. Quite to Noss's surprise, the new male would not be much out of place in the Crescent Moon Pack. Adorning oneself to fit rank or pleasure was not uncommon, and jewelry also frequented. The hoops in the other's ear were different, however. The Crecent Moon Pack had ear-hooks that they--mainly the wolfesses--could pierce through the soft flesh and let feathers or long strings with trinkets hang from, but these were shorter and less flashy. What also made him pause was the fact that he was male and wearing the short-ear-hooks. Does he think himself a female? Noss was not opposed to the idea that a male thought himself the opposite gender, but he was uninterested in whiney females; of all kinds. In fact, Noss himself was one attracted to the same gender for the same purpose that he found females difficult to handle.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

When the stranger answered, Noss was taken aback by the tone of voice as he brought his head straighter. It was not an offended taken aback; rather, it was more like...familiar. The way that the stranger fiddled with the colorful necklace caught Noss's eye momentarily, triggering another memory of a familiar face. Naka. Just like Naka. His childhood friend had been unafraid of Noss and did not choose her words carefully unless in public. She had been the epitome of a tomboy, and had disliked being called a girl at all. But that's where the similarities stopped. Naka had been a straight chocolate brown, petite, and green-eyed. This new wolf--Strel...--was a slight myriad of copper and red and had a long mane. The lavender eyes stood out when Noss stared him with his own pale-yellow eyes, ears back when he was pointed out to be at the result of his deepest weakness.

"I am Noss of the Crescent Moon Pack, hailing from the Moon Tribe, and the next Chief," he intoned with formality, the sarcasm having been caught. Unlike the brute he had met in Dahlia de Mai, he would not be mistaken for some throwaway ruffian here. He would state his name and rank and moon help him if he had to defend it again. However... Seconds ticked by as no sign or scent of threat permeated the air, and Noss felt his muscles relax even as he kept a straight posture. It became awkward, even for the chief-to-be, as he scratched the back of his head with a puzzled face. Did he want to admit his position to a stranger? Should he trust Strel even though his last directions had led him astray (by no fault of the givers)?

The growing night and want of directions said yes. But...

"I'm not lost... Just a little detoured. I seek my sister, Ralla. Have you heard of her?" Noss doubted the wolf did. Everywhere Noss turned, wolves either didn't know or were too pissed at him to tell. Noss didn't care. He would keep going. But he--the proud warrior--prayed to the moon for this wolf to know.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Strel's voice, full of sarcasm, for one reason or another hit a chord in Noss that injured his pride. Maybe it was because the strength of the sarcasm was so blunt it was enought o hit home even through Noss's ego? With his ears back, Noss sort of...deflated, so to speak. The stranger's tone and posture held no threat, and even though Noss was sure he was being insulted, he felt as if it were a friendly banter. Besides, his minor injuries were still injuries nonetheless, and they bothered his body enough to distract his pride...for awhile. His ears perked back up at the mention of the strange tribe-land that Strel mentioned, but then cocked his head to the side with furrowed brows.

"AniWaya?" Noss said it in two words, the name unfamiliar to the gutteral tongue he was used to. "You say this is a tribe-land? What's it like? Is there a Shaman there?" In all likelihood, Ralla would have sought out a place alike to the Moon Tribe, and this AniWaya seemed to fit the bill. Strel's next question sort of took Noss aback as he looked to the other's face before scoffing. "The 'pretty ladies' are only that, in the Crescent Moon Pack. I enjoy the company of our warriors more." To Noss, beauty meant little in comparison to the mettle of a wolf's heart. He'd rather have a wolf with a strong personality than a delicate flower anyday. And he wasn't afraid to voice that opinion. "And that is a silly excuse to travel so far north. What of yourself? You don't look the type to have a lady-friend." It was a mere hunch because of the short-ear-hooks, but Noss was taking that bet. Unwillingly, Noss realized he was holding a civilized conversation with Strel.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Sorry; computer lock, parents, THAT whole spiel. But it's OVER!

The short elaboration on AniWaya hooked Noss's interest, if not only that it was the closest lead he had. Horses and feathers... Not many other wolf packs and tribes Noss had seen did as they did, so it may as well have been worth a shot. Then again, he had thought that the first few seconds after seeing a wolf in the Dahlia territory before he was attacked. I'm a wolf; not some damn prey.

"So you like fierce men instead of delicate ladies?" His new conversationalist was delving deeper into Noss's personal interest rather than getting to the heart of why he had approached him... But... The long months of trying to find Ralla had left Noss devoid of companionship for the better part of the journey. "The ladies break too easily," he tried to joke. His mood was not as good as it usually was when he was fooling around with his warriors, but a good bit of humor--tasteful or not--appealed to the road-weary wolf. Not even a proud warrior was immune to the dictations of his endurance, and Noss was no immortal.

"Because I'm not," was Strel's answer to Noss's bet. It sparked Noss's interest in more ways than one, even as he kept his eyes glued to the stranger with their sharp gaze. It was not threatening, merely...a part of Noss's persona; his facade to appear impenetrable through the spirit. He was a fool to be talking so freely with a strange wolf after his last escapade, but... His instincts spoke to him like the moon spoke to Ralla; there was no danger here.

"I left everything behind to find her," he stated. "If I die, the Crescent Moon Pack is handed off to a branching bloodline, and our line is lost. But she is much more important to the pack than a Chief or Chief-to-be." They were true, bitter words. He never held the level of importance on the matter in much esteem before, but the reality of it was that a Chief was easily replaced, and that Shamans rarely came around. True, they had been lucky with Noss and Ralla's mother becoming the Shaman after Ralla's birth and then Ralla herself. But their mother had died, and Ralla had run away. It was as if the moon were forsaking them from contact. That couldn't be it... Could it...? He shook that terrible thought from his mind as the next one came in as if waiting for that exact cue. Father... Yes, their father would be furious, and at the same time... Calum as a father would be relieved, but Calum as the Chief would have no choice but to set an ample example and shun his daughter as she went through the Shamanic Ritual again. And Noss would have to join him in it... They would never speak to her normally again--if ever--and the last words that they would be exchanging would be nothing.

"That...is none of your concern," Noss left off addressing the last question. He didn't want to subject Ralla to the fate that awaited her, but in the Crescent Moon Pack, she was safe and where she belonged. Here...he didn't know what had become of her, much less where she was. For all he knew, she could be somewhere miles away from the land he was in, and all he had were his select leads and the words of that other Shaman. "You've been interrogating me thus far, Strel," Noss said with a rolling of the tongue. He knew not if that was right, but the combination of letters and the particular accent he had come to hear did not deter the language and pronunciation he had grown up with. "But what about you? What are you doing out here?"

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

The items that Strel held up were, admittedly, somewhat interesting to Noss. The Moon Tribe--and by extension, the Crescent Moon Pack--were fond of adornments of all sorts; clothes, bangles, the ear-hooks. Even the warriors loved to paint themselves, and each tribe found that the more adornments one had, the more desirable. It was almost like a show of rank or beauty. The concept of taking things from the homes of the Long Gones was not new. Their own pack had looted for things like cloth and materials before, and he could see why one would want to loot in such a place; it was huge, abounding with the possibilities of Long Gone treasures.

Strel wrinkled his nose at the scent coming from Noss's hind right leg, and Noss shrugged it off. It stung, sure, and the scent of blood remained as it tried to knit over, but... He cursed that pup for biting so deep. He was no healer, and every injury he had was all the same to him. If he was injured, he went to the pack Shaman. Out here, he didn't know if that injury was festering or not. The reminder of the ache and the feeling of comfortable ease which Noss was now lulled into allowed his body to sit on a fallen stone--perhaps that of a building's wall--as he looked at it ponderously. "I had gone by a pack earlier, and I think we each pissed each other off royally. I didn't know that they fought with such barbaric means. What do I look like?" Noss lifted his arms up jokingly. "A deer or a wolf? And I think I heard the pack name mentioned by one of them. Daul... Daulia day my?" He pronounced the strange name as best he could with his native accent. "Mean anything in particular?"

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Snorting, Noss was pleased with the other's reaction. "A bad flower indeed. But you say 'Cours' and that it is more noise to you. You are not native to your pack?" True, the Moon Tribe had accepted strangers into their ranks before, but it was rare. Supporting vast numbers of wolves was hard enough to do while split into four seperate packs, and accepting more meant more mouths to feed. Not to mention their isolation from most of the other packs. Their way was simply to live and experience what the moon had given them. Had Strel done as Ralla had done; run away from a previous pack to join a new one? And if so, why?

The other man's expression turned to concern as he looked at Noss's wound, and Noss just sorta...gave up on saving his pride over such a small thing. If the other was pressed to see it, and Noss didn't know its true severity, who was he to deny perhaps saving himself an amputation of a perfectly good leg? Pff... As if it's that bad. Compliantly, Noss stretched out his right leg from where he sat. "If it suits you," he shrugged. The other posed no more threat to Noss after their exchange. In fact, it was the first pleasantry that Noss had had for a long while.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Yeah, I know; Noss is a real piece of work. Egotistic, prideful, narcisstic... I promise there are his good qualities ^-^ Somewhere in there >.> *starts to rifle through Noss's personality* Hm... Coulda sworn I made him have at least one @_@

Noss smirked, his eyes narrowed as he beared his teeth in a toothy grin. "What's with the eyes? I thought you were the one to offer the help." It was a condescending statement, but it was the norm for the large wolf. Strel's proximity envoked a feeling in Noss--fight or flight, caution, or something completely different, he knew not which--that he somehow found...pleasant, for lack of better wording. Their encounter was a strange one to be sure, but somehow he felt gratitude for the strange wolf's assistance, however proud he often was to deny help. Strel's explanation of the 'kingdom', as he called it, was an odd notion to the tribal wolf. He had grown up being taught that packs and tribes formed from ancient ancestry were the only true packs, and although the thought of a pack being completely formed from loners was not a new idea to him, it piqued his interest. Especially when Strel's face further contorted in a myriad of emotions as he spoke.

"Pity for the lack of pups, but moon bless the tolerance you all must have," he said ponderously. "In our tribe, we are like a family because we are. Somewhere along the line, everyone is related; either by mateship, extension, or blood. We trade mates with the other packs to keep the blood fresh, and sometimes we accept a newcomer. But that doesn't mean that we all like each other." Noss looked up as his visage began to mirror Strel's. "Tolerance is key within a pack and tribe, and we find it easier when the members have some sort of connection. To be completely formed from strangers..." There he had to shake his head and chuckle a little. "There must have been at least one young hotspur who got into trouble from disagreement alone." He gave his particular two cents on that piece because Noss had at one point been that way. He and his father had been at ends during Noss's early years. Only when the training began to kick in--when Noss began to see how rank and duty worked--did he leave his childish rebellion behind. Or so he thought.

"Where west? And you have yet to answer why..." Having never been outside the general tribe territories except for a distant hunt or so, Noss was ignorant to much of the land outside the Moon Tribe. And even before that, Strel's reaction to Noss's own prodding of his past interested the beheamoth, although his tone was cautious should he be asking where he oughtn't. Although...had that truly ever stopped him before?

"Were you not thinking clearly? You should have washed it out. So I guess I'll cover it and expect you to go wash it with either clean water or sea water if you're feeling bold. The latter will definitely clean it except with pain." Noss's eyes narrowed further at the first question. "I was thinking just fine." Anyone else who may have heard that and known the full story would have laughed like a lunatic. "I just didn't think it that dire of an injury. ...Which water do you prefer?" He asked, stealthily trying to weasel the best one out of the redhead without seeming completely ignorant. In the knowledge of healing, he and his sister were the same; clueless. Funny... I had almost forgotten about my purpose here till now. The talk they were sharing seemed so familiar in its tone that it had lulled Noss into his comfort zone, and he was content to leave it that way. Oh no, he was still driven to find his sister. But Strel... When he pulled out a strip of cloth and apologized for having only that, the smirk returned to the gray wolf.

"Rather than you apologizing, I should be offering you a boon from the Crescent Moon Pack." Saying such was lofty, but Noss had the authority to do so. Stranger from hundreds of miles away or not, he had offered the chief-to-be assistance without asking for anything but words in return. What kind of chieftan would Noss turn out to be if he did not at least acknowledge and return the favors done unto him?

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Strel's laughter was disturbingly hollow to the warrior as he described his predicament. Noss could not, though his life, recollect a time when he had ever truly wanted to never see his family again. But then, he supposed, that was values. Then again, values could also be blamed for me being out here in the first place. "Constable? What was--?" Mid-sentence, Strel tugged hard on the bandage, and it surprised Noss. It did not hurt so much as suddenly sting, and he gave an impertinant glare to the other. Strel's expression and prescence had once again shifted, and for once, Noss swallowed his words as his curiosity overcame all else.

Listening intently, Noss was further puzzled by these new customs that he had barely known as just, or even close. Hypocrisy--stealing another's items for oneself under the guise of law--had always made Noss want to bite the hand that was the iron fist. Strel sat down before him, and Noss listened ever more. "We--" he started, but was cut off by a sudden thought: the Crescent Moon Pack and Moon Tribe were just as bound by tradition as the pack that Strel had come from. His face became that of furrowed brows as he searched for a way to explain such indignity, but... When it came down to it, breaking the laws and customs in their own pack would result in any such treatment as isolation or punishment as well. But death... Death for a penalty was harsh unless the very crime was on an epic scale. But Strel didn't want him to think the explanation dramatic when that was all he could see? Noss was a warrior; he'd seen blood and battles and the pains of sorrow worse than any mortal wound. An injury to an intangable part of oneself--emotional, mental, soul-scarring--was cruel. He himself would look down on those who thought themselves better than they were. He would sneer and cajole his enemies for cowardice and name them inferior in battle. But lesser wolves? Never. The moon may have allowed some to drift from their paths, but that did not mean that it forsook them.

As quickly as the mood had dropped, it escalated again like the tides of the sea that Noss had so recently seen. The redheaded wolf was so strange, but that strange-ness kept Noss's attention rapt, even as his mind willed him that he was on a mission. "Haha, save your boons for someone who knows what to do with them. That or keep a tally and we'll find a way to put all to use at once." Noss's ears switched fully forward as such an easy banter escaped from the cynical wolf's mouth. Noss was blind to many things, but some were just within his radius of sight. He mirrored Strel's smirk and leaned forward on his knees, now with a more curious air. I can't be serious... He was ashamed of his candid openess with this stranger. Beyond social standing, such behavior as he was showing was just...un-Noss-ish. He did not share personal information with strangers, he did not flirt with strangers, he did not get distracted from missions, and he did not lose battles to pups.

... There had been a lot of breaking of the 'nots' since he had arrived in the far north.

"And what makes you so sure I'll still be around to grant what I owe you?" He said it with a light tone and that smirk still plastered on his face, although he was completely serious in his promise of oweing Strel. And then he realized what he had truly just done, and smacked himself right on the forehead. 'Still be around' is right... I just promised the man a favor...! And it was only then, after years and years of it, did Noss admit that he had to learn when to shut up...to himself. Well... How big could the boon be? He gave me some information and bandaged my leg... Hopefully he won't ask for an arm in exchange... Nothing like a little guesome humor to sober oneself up.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Ooooh, what's Nossy gonna do? >:3 Don't give up on him yet! I have a feeling about how he's gonna react to Strel in his next post. *gasp* Ralla! No projecting visions in my head! >< Also; Noss's last words: *cue dramatic/suspicious music* >

"True," he said with a mock-sigh. What would he do? Boons were a large part of Noss's being, as it was; one good turn deserved another, and his very personality would eat him from the core out unless it was satisfied. Noss raised his head and looked around, noting the setting sun and retreating light."I won't be able to leave, apparently, until those blasted snows in the mountains let up, or until I find my sister after." It was true; on his way to Nova Scotia, it had been increasingly difficult already--even for a wolf used to such climates--to scale safely the ridges and crumbling roads. At the rate he was going, by the time he found Ralla, they would long be blocked by the snow. Not to mention that the sea-faring luperci that frequented their tribe lands--the ones that Ralla had taken to Nova Scotia in the first place--had already left, he knew. "If you want a story, Ralla is the one you should ask. She knows all sorts from wherever she's heard them, and she keeps the tribe's history all up here," he said quite plainly while tapping the side of his skull. "The stories I have are all graceless; bloody, boring, without..." He searched for the right word, stumped, knowing that Ralla had used it once while commenting on his practice fights with the warriors. "Zeal."

"As for what I owe you, I'll simply have to hound you until something suitable comes up." It was a bold thing to say, as the large grey wolf stood to stretch. "But it seems as if the day hasn't enough hours. Does your Cour pack not miss you, being gone for so long?" Noss then thought: How's everyone in the Crescent Moon Pack doing? It was more for their safety that he was concerned. Other's outside of his family--their emotions, their needs outside of basic--were rarely his concern. But Strel seemed to come from a pack of different values, so he could not help but wonder what place he held in their hearts. "Rather, will they be overly worried if you were gone for awhile more than a day?"

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.