Northern Pack Hunting Grounds

A clearing about ten miles from the town of Irvin just north of Strid. Dense forests surround it and it also holds an ancient ruin that the wolves love to hide and hunt through. During each full moon this is where the Alpha takes all new wolves to hunt but the pack uses it throughout the year for all sorts of events.

With the new moon just over and barely a sliver moon in the sky Rakel knew that his old grounds would be free from the pack for he was the only one who ran here this time of the month. Alpha was a burden that few could hold but he kept it thanks to brother wolf.

As he ran in wolf form through the trees to the ruins of the ancient ones he knew that the time was at hand. He would have to once again take control of the pack he had left behind. A strange breeze was in the air and it brought a sense of distress. Brother wolf spoke to Rakel as they ran. I don’t like this. It feels like the ancient powers are at work again. This world won’t survive another war.

This was not the first time that Bother wolf had said such. With is senses dulled by thought he almost didn’t notice the change in the hunting grounds. A small hut had been constucted near the base of the ruins. I have a feeling that something is amiss. Rakel thought to Brother wolf. It smells of pack, but why would they have used this place to banish anyone to? Yet neither Brother wolf nor himself sensed another there at the moment, they knew it had been used as a place of punishment and a place of solitude.

Earlier that day...

A young girl wandered through the ancient boughs of the forest listlessly, barely twitching at the healthy smells, sights, and sounds of its creatures as the sun neared the finish of its downward turn. With a wan, wistful expression in her emerald-green eyes and soft, silvery hair dyed at the frazzled tips with a mousy, flat brown, looking at the girl's face almost suggested she was merely a wayward spirit. It couldn't be, though, for even if her feet made almost no sound, the shuffling of the loam was still there, and her nostrils flared briefly as each new scent wafted to her nose on the wings of wind that she cocked her head slightly to listen to as it played, lightfooted, in the summer foliage above.

The girl frowned, paused in her inexorable trudge and shook herself. She blinked, confused. Where had her feet taken her this time? She had just wanted to get away... Wrenching herself away from that field of thought with an almost physical movement, the girl pressed her hand against one of the oldest trees she had seen. Its bark was smooth but knobbly, wrinkled and careworn, like a grandparent's skin, and she smiled a little.

Her eyes tripped up into its branches, marvelling at its jade colored leaves, though she couldn't make out their shapes from where she stood. "I wish I knew what to call you," she smiled companionably, "But I was never very good with trees' names. I suppose you wouldn't mind if I just called you 'Auntie Oak.'"

The tiny holes between the leaves sparkled darkly, and the girl noticed that the forest was growing darker. She supposed time had been what had woken her from her traveling trance - as she called it - in order to have her break camp. It was a bit odd, but the girl had grown used to it. She simply swung her worn, leather satchel from her back and started preparing a place to sleep, all the while chattering to 'Auntie Oak' about this and that.

For a moment, before the sun had set enough to take its final, pink sheen from the jewels of sky that winked in the branches, as the girl glanced over her shoulder, she saw, through the trees, a huge, craggy shape. It looked almost like a broken building, sullen and hostile, but twilight fell, and the scene was gone. A thrill shivered up her spine, stopping her, midsentence as it cascaded over her in a tremble of terror and joy. Humans? Her mind wavered and broke. It can't be, she snarled to herself viciously, And they don't want you even if they are.

She wrinkled her nose and continued her work sullenly and silently, setting out a tarp, a light blanket, a can of what was probably baked beans, and clearing out a fire pit. A couple scrapings of loam and broken low hanging branches later, the girl was cursing quietly to herself as the fire refused to start. "I'm not eating cold beans again," She screwed up her face in disgust, remembering the last night's dinner. It had been one thing to smell the sickeningly sweet slop that had congealed in its tin can, and an entirely different thing to feel them slithering down her throat like slugs. She gagged at the memory and struck at the flint and tinder again, praying for a spark.

That did the trick! A crackle and a pop sounded as the tiny twigs and loam took. With an eager cry, the girl nursed the fire to a small blaze, and it crackled merrily at her as the last traces of dusk slunk away. After she was sure the fire wasn't going to die, she attacked the can of beans with a rock, beating its top until she could peel it back. The luridly sweet smell jumped out to greet her once again, eager as a puppy, but she merely turned her head away until it subsided. The canned mess looked up at her limpidly as she placed it as near to the fire as she dared. Hopefully, this'll help...

She stirred it thoughtfully with a small twig, her nose full of its scent as it changed from saccharine to caramel. It was nearly done when she heard something - someone - she hadn't realized was near. Her head whipped around and she backed toward the fire instinctively. It was almost unbearably hot in the summer night, but it symbolized protection of the civilized man. She paused for a moment, tense, but it was nothing, perhaps the skitter of a squirrel or the crunch of an unseasonable leaf falling.

Besides, the crickets should be out soon, and the fireflies, as well as the night birds, so she relaxed and went back to stirring. The soft crackle of the fire soothed her, and the light it gave comforted her, so though she was now completely aware of her surroundings, she was also able to concentrate fully on not burning her beans.

As Rakel slowly looked around a land he once knew, so many thoughts came to him. What was going on in his pack and why had Tenga done all of this? His second in command who now acted as a stand in Alpha was not the type to banish wolves for any reason. Brother wolf feared that something else was pulling the strings here. Something not friendly to his kind.

As he walked the hut and ruins, sniffing all the scents he could. He let his mind drift and let Brother wolf take charge. This was something he needed to wolf up front for. As the night air called to Rakel, he felt at peace yet also on edge. Something was very wrong here and he feared for his people.

This ancient place had never been seen by any than the weres, and then only by family decree. The forest had many secrets and its spirits told what they wanted or hid anything they liked. As he walked out into the open, he still hadn't felt anything else around. Quiet was what he wanted now, and it seemd that he would be able to think this through.

As Rakel was deciding to rest for the night, that was when the spirits shifted. Brother wolf caught it first. A scent, someone was here. Staying as a wolf was his only option until he could find a hiding place. The change would take to long here and it would let this stranger sense them. Maybe this is who caused the strange sensations in the hut thought Rakel, but brother wolf wasn't sure. She had a fire going and he sensed fear.

Standing in the open was too exposed, and he knew it. He used the soft light of the stars to climb the ruins he had just left. Once in them, he found one of his favorite old hiding places he used to use against the new wolves to test their senses. His mind longed for the pack's ties, but tonight was not a night for memories. It was a night for answers.

Hiding in the ruins above the lands, he watched as the night drifted on. Why did the spirits hide her from me? They have never gone against us before. Rakel's mind droned on. He decided to shift to his human form so that he didn't show in the starlight. He would never let his white coat be hidden by dirt or anything else and it would shine to easily when the stars hit him.

(Note: you said it was new moon last time. be careful about moonlight. Also, I fixed your entry on the timeline. We're starting on the third day.)

The girl stabbed a bean viciously to test it. The little bugger tried to slip away and back into the viscous juice, but it was securely caught, and she almost imagined it squirming unpleasantly as the transfered it to her mouth. Eh, close enough, she decided. whipping out a spoon from some pocket in her backpack, the girl swiftly ingested all of the can's innards.

"Ugh, now that's gross," she burped confidingly to the tree, "Never eat baked beans if you don't have to." She licked the spoon clean and glared balefully at the syrup left in the can before rinsing it with water from her thick reusable water bottle. Drinking the water with its bean juice was like drinking phlegm, but it was better to do that than waste it.

She then proceeded to throw dirt over the fire to douse it; there was really no need for it on a hot night like this, and she trusted her nose and her - rather poor - instincts to warn her if something or someone came close. Settling down on her makeshift sleeping bag, she blinked for a moment to adjust her eyes to the scant light that filtered through the trees. "Too bad there's no moon tonight," she muttered softly. She turned to her side to peer out into the forest, watching the mesmerizing dance of the fireflies.

One scuttled by, close enough to blind her in one eye when it flashed. She laughed a little, waving it away. A scent, a new scent, wafted to her nose. It was as if something had shifted out of the way in order to let it by, as if a door had opened. It was an odd scent, wolven and human, and it made the girl's lip curl. The moment of peace was gone. She slid silently out from under her covers and crouched next to her bag, pulling out a wickedly long knife normally used for carving uncooked flesh in a kitchen. She was already in the shadowy arms of Auntie Oak, and was nearly invisible in the lack of light that filtered through her leaves, but she still sat tense and ready. A low growl clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it determinedly, eyes simply darting back and forth nervously.

Rakel shifted uneasily. Something just didn't feel to right here. Why were the spirits of this forest acting this way? He was on edge but he knew he had no reason to be. Nothing here should make him jumpy in his own lands. With his blade Phoebe laying on the ground next to him and the packs magic in the air he should be fine. Yet something was off.

Both Brother wolf and him knew it was weird that the spirits had hidden this girl but now he also realized they hid him from her. She had not moved even after his shift. "Why are you doing tonight?" Rakel whispered to the winds and spirits there. His inner sense made him look at the girl again.

He thought that he wouldn't have to move, until the wind changed. The girl moved with a speed he had only seen in the wolves he ran with and to his eyes she pulled a knife from no where. now he was open to Brother wolf. Something was strange here.

Grabbing Phoebe, Rakel almost jumped down from the ruins. landing on each ledge there was. He would find out why she was on his lands, but most of al he wanted to know why she was hidden from him to begin with. Maybe this girl was more than she seemed.

With his blade in hand and Brother wolf giving him his strength he left the edge of the woods to stand on the border of the opening and faced the girl.

The girl almost jumped out of her skin when a man materialized a good way away from her, a naked sword gleaming dully in his hand. SHe'd been expecting it, but she was still surprised. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice gravelly with a repressed snarl.

She stood slowly, shaking the silvery tendrils of hair from her eyes and fighting not to bare her teeth at the intruder. He was tall - much taller than she - and from what she could see, he was well-muscled. She sincerely doubted that she could take down such a mountainous man, so her only other recourse, should violence ensue, was that of a fleet-footed flight. He seemed calm, poised, and it was only the honesty she detected in his craggy face that kept her from leaping away like a scared fawn.

Sampling the air again, a thought stopped her. Is he a were, too? she stared at him more intently, taking in the silvery streaks in his long, golden locks and his easy, authoritative stance. A part of her laughed ironically. Here we are, sniggered the Wolf, Here we are, faced with a real werewolf. What do you think you're going to do with your little kitchen knife? What do you think you can do?

The girl ignored the Wolf's words and instead shifted her stance to a more relaxed position; it wasn't inviting, but it wasn't as threatening, either, and her knife was still ready in case it was needed.

As he stepped out the winds around him stilled. Not trusting his eyes as the girl came out with her knife, he decided to sent the air. A were! But not the one they were looking for. Brother wolf told Rakel, Dont be alarmed, she is frigtened but she is not the rouge we smelt earlier and not one of ours either.

With this realization he droped his stance a bit. Waning his Alpha power down a few notches they both decided to relax just slightly. Her stance suggested she was no threat but growing up as he had Rakel still stayed ready. What do you feel from her? he asked Brother wolf. She is not challenging us. I say we see what brought her here since she is not pack and smells of none. Came the slight reply.

With the night calmed around him and the spirits no longer playing their games the beast inside Rakel quieted just enough that he could become civilized. "I mean you no harm miss. These lands belong to my pack and I." This he knew was enough information. "What has brought you here on this dark night?"

Her mind caught and held on one word: Pack. It wandered around in her head for a moment, trying to find something to connect to before finding nothing and jumping suicidally from her lips arm-in-arm with a bewildered quaver. "P-pack?"

The quizzical look that zipped past her face beat around her brain a bit before getting smashed back into its nice, neat box for later. Flashing back for the rest of the sentence that her ears had caught while her brain was busy marshaling her hooligan thoughts, the were pieced together the stranger's statement.

I'm on his lands, her eyes widened and her grip on her knife whitened her knuckles, I remember that wolves can get very territorial. Best to stand strong and be ready. She tensed again and stared slightly below the dark splotches where she knew his eyes must be; to stare directly was a sign of aggression, but to look away was a sign of submission.

Her mind switched to his final words and she gestured expansively with her unoccupied arm at the rumpled, makeshift camp. "Traveling," she huffed gruffly, a growl still peering around the points of her teeth.

He noticed her tense when he mentioned htis was his grounds. Not pack he thought.Or rouge, just a lone wolf. That would explain the avasion to my presence. Alpha's are not easy to be arround if your not used to them.

He put his blade into its sheath and then met her gaze with his own. Not challenging just accepting. "I did not mean to alarm you young one. No harm shall come to you for being here. "He hoped his words would calm her. I think that you should let her in brother wolf said.

"You said you were traveling. If you would accept it then i have an offer for you. On behalf of the Northern Pack i offer you our lands to hunt on and to rest within." He knew she could refuse outright but that also either way if she was here he would make sure his wolves stayed away so she was safer.

Anya was shocked; such a beast as he offering her succor? Inconceivable! This must be some sort of trick, she frowned, shadowing the stranger's movements and tucking her knife away as her nerves thrilled. May as well go along with it for now...

She took a hesitant step forward, extending her hand as if in friendship, skittish and tense as a doe who has caught a predator's scent. "I'm Anya," her voice grated, still hoarse with the growl. "I'll only be here for a few days to rest up. You promise to leave me be?"