i have gunpowder

while the morning is, in of itself on the cooler side, there’s a humidity laying over the land from the overnight rain that curls seasmoke’s nape hair. the air is thick: with the fresh scent of rain and damp earth and each breath of air is soupy. with no clear path in mind, seasmoke deviates and saunters down the soft, sloping rocks to the shallows of the water — fed by a waterfall he can both see and hear — where he splashes thru the cold water. it’s refreshing and works to cool him off though for the sake of saving himself drying time he does not wade any deeper upstream.

the sickly sweet scent of berries linger heavy in the air here, as does the myriad of prey scents that makes the run an immediately attractive territory to him; ignorant of the founding pack whose borders the ullarcraig run ( though the name is unknown to seasmoke ) shadows. he leaps out from the water and gives his pelage a hearty shake, though the fur of his legs still clings to his flesh; damp.

not terribly worried about it, seasmoke continues on; deeper into the run’s territory to explore.

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the sound of approaching footfalls had been the first thing to grab the duskwraith’s attention. it is soon followed by the ‘hail’ carrying over the shortening distance: not quite demanding but nevertheless carried an edge that told seasmoke not to ignore it. his steps slow to a cease and he turns, left ear twitching to the side as fiery gaze of twin suns studies the stranger that’s called out to him. a myriad of earthen colors; splotched as if someone dabbed paint on him.

not a pelage pattern that seasmoke could say he’d ever seen before.

it certainly draws and holds his attention.

upon the soft breeze that carries, he can smell the scent of others on him that enters in seasmoke’s brain as ‘pack’. “hmm,” the noise lingers in seasmoke’s throat; lowly. meant for himself. “is this your territory?” seasmoke inquires, gesturing to the scattered woods he was close to breaching. he supposed that was a first good step: establish why he was being ‘hail’ed in the first place; not quite grasping ( dumb bitch energy ahoy ) that it could’ve, in all fairness, just been someone looking for some conversation.
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“ah,” seasmoke offers; a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat that communicated that the man’s intentions were along the lines of what he hadn’t thought of ( friendly conversation ). in such a foreign place with no recollection of how he ended up here in the first place, left him unsure of how to take his fellow canines. was he encroaching on territory he wasn’t meant to? were they territorial like the his family was wont to be. that does not seem to be the case …at least, in this situation.

“while i am quite fearsome i do not think i alone am capable of scaring off the prey i smell upon the wind.” seasmoke says; always toeing the line between arrogance and puppyish innocence in what he believes to be fact. it’s a very thin line that could, if one weren’t bothered to look closely and make the distinction, easily blurr.

“vanderfell woods,” seasmoke touches upon the pack name drop. “what’s it like?” he inquires, thinking it might be more sensible to join a group of others than try to go-it on his lonesome. “i’m seasmoke; duskwraith.” a title. a rank. a surname; all rolled into one nice little package but offered after his given name in such a way that it could be taken as any of the three.
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a sage nod is offered the other male at the 'better be safe than sorry' offered to him. in this, seasmoke understands. the duskwraiths were notorious territorial over their hunting grounds and it makes perfect sense to him that others would be the same — even if that wasn't entirely true in this particular case. while 'everything he wished for in a pack' was more of a personal opinion and didn't offer seasmoke a whole lot of detail per se, he bobs his head in consideration of the words all the same. still, the fact that it is a growing group with obvious room for additional wolves ( namely him ), leaves seasmoke interested.

he had to start somewhere, didn't he?

“this place is strange to you as well?” seasmoke inquires; curious about the fact and capitalizing upon it. it was a relief, to some degree, to know he was not the only one; switching topics back to this vanderfell woods, seasmoke inquires next, “are you looking for recruits? i was trained as a warrior since i was a cub.”

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the fact that the other male hasn't even met natives to the land is a bit concerning to seasmoke but, in truth, he does not know how vast these lands are. perhaps it was just coincidence for surely someone had to be native. ...didn't they? he offers the thought a small sliver of his focus and then lets it go. there are more pressing things that require his attention; like the fact that the other man tells him that ( as far as he knows ) new warriors are always welcomed. this is good news and causes seasmoke to give a soft, hopeful wag of his tail; ears perking with interest.

“yes!” the duskwraith is enthusiastic as he responds. “i would very much like to be introduced to your high queen.”

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