𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇.
population: 01 wolves [ 01 fem : 00 male ]
servings required: 02
moderator: noctem
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𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐨.
Follow the lights. Metieta's paws burned and her lungs ached as she surged forward, tired body crossing the barren snowy land, toward the looming mountain in front of her. She dared not look back, dared not search frantically for the eyes that had followed her, the guttural snarls and the foaming mouths that had turned the wolves she had once called friends. She was beyond that now, her only safe haven a place from stories.
Long ago, her mother said to her with a lilting laugh, there were wolves in the far-off, beyond the mountains where the light of the heavens reached down to kiss the earth and dance across the mountaintops with dainty steps. It is here and only here that you can feel at peace, for it is a homeland: a piece of you that never leaves. I have it, my mother had it, and her mother before her, as far back as it goes until our ancestor who left the North. If you are ever lost, Metieta, the homeland will show you the way.
Rocks cut and sliced at her paws as she hauled herself up through the craggy rocks, grunting with the effort that it took on her tired and strained muscles. Around her, the wind howled, buffeting her fur and pressing her closer to the rocky sheers that rose around either side of her. And then, a saving grace. Metieta spotted a passage, and she dove toward it, curling up between the cliffs as the storm raged around her. Snow blanketed her grey pelt, burying her amongst the landscape as she fell into a deep and restless sleep.
When she awoke, things were quiet. Carefully, she dug her way out of the snow, shaking the last of it out of her pelt as she surged to her feet. The sun shone overhead. The mountains were silent. Metieta's ears swiveled, searching for sound, before she heaved a sigh, and took the first step forward.
It took the better part of the day to reach the other end of the path. Metieta's stomach growled insistently, but she shoved away any consideration of it. She had better things to do than lament her hunger right now. She needed to know she was safe and far away from the faces that chased her. She had run fast and she had tried to cover her tracks, but she got the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that it somehow wasn't enough. Then again, perhaps that was just the hunger.
Metieta gazed out over the territory in front of her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the chirp of birds. There was a lush boreal forest, water and somewhere far below she could see a basin, almost easy to miss, half-sheltered by a large underhang. Metieta took a step forward, cautious with the ground underfoot. The snow obscured the safe places to step on the rocky crags, and almost instantly, she drew her paw back, frowning at the ground. It would be impossible to get down.
"You made it after all," a voice said to her right, startling her so horridly that she jumped with a yelp, swinging her head to spot only a raven, perched higher up the rock than she herself. She blinked, shaking her head, before she turned back to the problem at hand. Her paw reached out, and she heard the voice again, this time with an amused lilt. "For a while there, it seemed like you wouldn't." She paused, turning to glare at the raven again. The bird watched her, expression imperceptible.
"Are you daft, or have you just never heard a bird speak before?" Metieta balked, staring in wide-eyed shock as the bird let out a cackling laugh, preening its feathers. "Oh, so it's the latter then."
"I'm seeing things," Metieta muttered to herself, shaking her head. She placed her paws down, one at a time, to take the first tentative steps toward the basin she had spotted. There it would be sheltered, and there she could return to after she'd caught something to eat. She heard the bird's cackling laughter continue, the bright voice ringing out around the mountains as it called after her retreating form:
"Welcome home, Metieta of Northreach."
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧.
The territory was bright in the spring. Metieta sniffed at a dandelion, sneezing as the fairy-like seeds sprung away from the core, drifting around her in a cloud. A flutter of wings overhead alerted her to the ever-present raven that had followed her around for the last moon. Metieta rolled her eyes, ignoring the black bird as it hopped around the branch of a fir tree high over her head. At least it had stopped trying to speak to her, although Metieta wasn't fully convinced that the words she'd heard weren't the subject of a hallucination.
She continued on through the territory, through the meadow of buttercups and down to the stream, where she lapped at the water languidly. Something snapped on the other side of the river, and she looked up, seeing a herd of deer come to the bank. They watched her with large eyes, before they deemed her inconsequential. As the stag lowered his head, so to did Metieta, the herd and the wolf drinking in silent solidarity. They passed soon after, leaving her alone again.
"It comes off you like waves, you know," said the bird overhead. Metieta gritted her teeth.
"You're not real," she snapped, mostly to convince herself more than to convince anyone else. The bird cackled in that way it was so prone to, and she shook her head. She wasn't hungry- small prey had been easy to catch and there was plenty of water. It was stress, she reasoned, stress that made her hear these things.
"It would be easier for you to adjust if you would just accept," the bird said, "after all, you seemed fine accepting stories about a far-off homeland that would act as your North Star." Metieta whipped around, turning to face the bird where it perched on a large rock, seemingly unbothered by being the target of her ire. The she-wolf tamped her burning fury at the mention of such a sentimental memory, forcing herself to think logically.
"How do you know about that?" She asked.
"Because I am your guide," the raven said, "and I've been waiting for you to start asking the right questions."
"Guide? What guide?" The bird huffed, seemingly annoyed with Metieta's apparent density. The she-wolf approached the rock, gaze purely curious now. Perhaps it was madness to give into a hallucination, to entertain these wild thoughts. Surely the bird could not actually speak, but something about their tone seemed... genuine. Metieta was sure that not even her stress-frazzled mind could make up something this bizarre.
"If you hadn't noticed, Metieta of Northreach, you made it to the homeland," the raven swung its wing, encompassing the territory, "it has been a long time since wolves have been here, but the rest of us have not forgotten, much like you have not. We pass stories from beak to beak, from maw to maw, whispering of the time that beckons where things will be as they once were. And in those times, wolves and ravens were friends, and sometimes the crows too. We're carrion birds, you see, and so it was beneficial of us to guide you to prey-"
"You're here to help me hunt?" The glare of the raven made Metieta shut her jaw again.
"Some of us are, yes. But I have a much more important journey, revealed to me by the lights that kiss the earth," the raven turned to gesture to the tallest peak in the range, which Metieta noted from this angle seemed to have a flat top among the jagged stones, pointing skyward like they intended to impale the belly of the sky-god. Metieta turned to face the raven, curiosity glittering brightly behind her eyes.
"And what journey would that be?"
"I'm supposed to guide you toward restoring Northreach," the bird answered, "our souls were linked from birth, and my purpose is to see you build this pack to what it once was, to create the homeland your mother told you of, to guide you on the path your paws should take to ensure greatness."
"And what is your name?"
"Hugin," said the bird, the word hitting Metieta like a burst damn. Memories seemed to flood over her then, memories that weren't her own: wolves long ago howling from the mountains, eyes turned upward to the sky to see a black shape leading them on, pups laughing and playing in the basin that Metieta had been camping in, caribou crossing the sea to the north. Metieta snapped back, stumbling, as the bird shook their head.
"That's never happened before," they muttered, glancing at Metieta, "I suppose that's what they call a connection."
"Maybe," the she-wolf panted, suddenly exhausted by her palpable confusion, "I think we have some things to figure out, Hugin."
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` servings consumed
0/2 - stockpiling
` pack events
metieta patrols the borders
metieta hunts
` alpha pair
metieta | 37 moons | ♀ | ✦
` beta pair
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` healer
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` hunters
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` protectors
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` trainees
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` life-bringers & pups
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` consuls
name | age | ♂/♀ | ✦
` ally packs
none currently.
` enemy packs
none currently.
` borders
↑ | open | user
→ | open | user
↓ | open | user
← | open | user
` medicine store
Herb | Usage
Herb | Usage
` fresh-kill pile
squirrel | x0 | 1 servings
vole | x0 | 1 servings
hare | x0 | 2 servings
salmon | x0 | 3 servings
goat | x0 | 4 servings
caribou | x0 | 6 servings
elk | x0 | 6 servings
` mentors
mentor | trainee [#]
↪ skills learned
` deceased
name | cause of death
` family ties
mother + father
↪ pups
