Thrown from the dragon’s keep

The ground had quickly disappeared from beneath his feet, reality falling away, ripping like no more than pieces of fabric in the wind. It had to be a sign, but of what, he could not tell. He was falling. His mind raced, trying to understand, trying to find meaning in this event. To understand what was taking shape around him. Confusion ruled as his mind took a back seat to what his flickering eyes witnessed. What had led up to this moment? He tried to remember, tried to think back. Reaching for answers in the void, his grasp came back hauntingly empty.

Raenar screamed as his body tore against something, a tear of pain forming quickly along his side. He was falling, falling, falling. Why the hell was he falling for such an impossibly long time? A wolf falling from the sky, that could only be a bad omen, right? Whatever was on the other side, he was doubtful he’d make it. Who could survive a fall like this? In those solo moments, he could feel his life slipping away.

He landed without grace, his body finally reunited with solid ground as his face plunged forcefully into the earth. He felt bones crack and teeth fly, blood running freely down his muzzle and out his nostrils. The scent of the dirt mixed with the sweet taste of copper. He rolled onto his back, his eyes wide, chest heaving, and his limbs trembling. A snarl mixed with a grown left his bloodied lips. In a quick impulse, his limbs extended toward the sky. A last middle finger he had thrown to the heavens before his eyes rolled back in his head, his mind slipping into the unconscious.

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One did not often see wolves falling from the sky. Understandably, Velyre was intrigued.

The pale she-wolf had been collecting herbs on a nearby cliff when she saw it happen. Her mouth still filled by a bundle of leaves, she daintily picked her way across steep, rocky cliffs, her nose twitching. There was no characteristic death-stink of emptied guts, so they must have survived the fall. Even more fascinating.

She crept up near the unfortunate soul. A large and well-built male, and certainly good-looking, if not for the blood streaked on his nose. As well as his other injuries. Although, in Velyre’s eyes, these only added to his looks.

Tragically, whatever force had brought him here had brought Velyre—who although might be physically pretty, was about as pleasant company as a disembodied floating skull.

“Ooh, you’re going to have a very sore head,” Vel mused as she paced along the other wolf’s form, inspecting his injuries. “Assuming you wake up at all.”

If he did stir then, he would see a pair of nearly-black eyes staring down at him from a ghostly, owl-like face.

---

tossing Vel in here, hope that’s alright! @Raenar

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If Vahaelarr had not quite literally witnessed it, he might not have believed his eyes. 

His heavy paws had been scrabbling over the rolling terrain, heavy and wide as they went, whenever the wolf had fallen from the sky, pulling the slate furred Vahaelarr from his trance. His head lifted with a start, lilac eyes widening briefly to watch the scene unfold before him. He spun and flipped and soared, until his inevitable crash into the ground, one that brought the wolf wincing himself. His paw lifted and his foreleg pressed to his chest, expression screwing up into one of unpleasantry at the sight. Poor dude. It was all he could think as he spurred himself onwards, shifting through the trees so that he might reach the landing site of this poor wolf. 

And as he made his way to where he'd hit ground, he found another wolf had already reached his side. A she-wolf who walked about him curiously, no doubt attempting to wake him from his coma. Vahaelarr's eyes traced the scene as he slowed to a stop, coming up on the other side of the fallen wolf, sharing a glance with the mystery wolfess. “He alive?” Vahaelarr asked, dropping his eyes down to the crumpled form of the brute. Sure enough, there was the rise and fall of his chest. 

Lucky bastard. 

Vahaelarr wasn't the type to leave someone in distress and could only offer a sigh, reaching down to peer his eyes over the wolf's face. “Rytsas! Can you move? Wiggle your toes if you can hear me.”

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Everything ached, included places he didn’t know could hurt. A throbbing ache pulsated from his nose, causing him to groan and shift in place. Raenar was not sure how long he had been unconscious. Wasn't aware of anything. No memories, no dreams. Beyond the swirl of clouds that fogged his mind, there was a voice. Not long after, another had joined, the two swimming together in a chorus of words that blurred together. He struggled to make sense of it, but he felt a presence. He was not alone. He had made landfall. That much was definitely clear to him.

Something was tugging at him. It was a gentle touch, one that he wanted to resist, but somehow, it was hard to fight. Gradually it morphed, growing, intensifying. A sharp stabbing feeling shot through his brain as his consciousness returned, his senses returning one by one. The smell of the forest, the sound of birdsong, the pain all over his body. His eyes shot open, a snarl ripping from his throat before they immediately clamped shut again. The light emanating from the sky was instantly too bright, sounds too loud within the pounding that clamored in his mind. He coughed violently, expelling the blood gurgling in the back of his throat. Then he stilled. The energy that remain spent in his short and violent spasm. Where in the hell was he?

Nostrils quivered beneath the scents, his ears shifting, listening intently to the unknown onlookers to his pathetic demise. If only Faust could see him now. Raenar did not try to open his eyes, instead choosing to listen intently. His head was still spinning, his body sore, but the white hot intensity of pain was fading. There was a scent he found familiar, faint and far away. It reached out to him softly, a gentle dust upon the wind, but it was there. It was real. A scent he would recognize. Impossible he’d think, though still; His lips parted, barely a croak whispered from wounded lips.

“T… t-ove?”

@Velyre @Vahaelarr
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Velyre nodded to the stranger who joined her. He smelled a bit like Sonder—the same pack, perhaps. How interesting. Vel didn’t love having neighbors, but it certainly made things more interesting. The Saltwoods itself, at least, was well protected. Few dared to cross the sea. That being said, she didn’t need to reveal her allegiance just now.

So, she instead stayed quiet as the other wolf spoke. Did they know each other, she wondered? He had a good question, too. If the wolf could not move his legs…

Well, she could deal with that once they figured out whether he still had a head to think with. And it seemed he did, for while she set her herbs down, the wolf spoke a word. Or…a name.

“Friend of yours?” she asked. More importantly— “Can you move your paws at all, front or back?”

@Vahaelarr @Raenar
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Vahaelarr reeled backwards with haste at Raenar's sudden snarl and erratic movement, eyes pinned cautiously to the form of the injured wolf. Then he stilled, as if peace had found his mind, and for just a second, Vahae thought he might have been passing on. But the brute still clung to life, such apparent as he opened his jaws to speak. 

What Vahaelarr heard had his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and confusion, heavy brows knitting together. 

He knows Tove? It was a question he couldn't answer, but Tove could. Yet, Tove was nowhere to be seen, and the slate furred wolf found himself wishing she was. She would know what to do. He had blind faith in his Kallista, a quiet trust and acknowledgement of her healing abilities. There could not possibly be a wolf more skilled in the trade, not in his eyes. 

Yet, the wolf beside him dropped herbs to her paws, herbs he hadn't noticed prior she'd been carrying, and he practically breathed out his sigh of relief. He would not have known where to begin. “No..” He trailed off, looking onwards at Raenar carefully. “I have never seen this wolf in my life.” 

As the stranger questioned him, Vahaelarr moved, offering the healer more room to work. He only watched on in silence for now, swallowing down the question that burned in the back of his mind. How do you know Tove? 

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More voices, yet not one belonged to Tove.

His mind reeled, returning to something he had heard and understood, and out of his own curiosity, obeyed. Considering himself for a moment, he pulsed each of his muscles in a slow wave of movement. Begging at the very end of his tail, he wiggled each muscle a minimal amount. Everything worked, but it all hurt with a wild intensity. At least he wasn’t dead, for that he was grateful.

Something strange hung in the air, fresh cuttings of - herbs? Curiosity pried open one of his lids, only just. The sharp golden spade darted to the herbs left upon the ground, then to the faces that lingered about him. First the woman who stood above the herbs, then to the man, then back again to the woman. She was certainly not Tove.

He groaned, writhing in his own skin as he forced himself to roll. Head still spinning, he wasn’t dumb enough to try to stand, but he refused to allow anyone see him in such a vulnerable state. This time his attention flicked back to the male, eyeing him from the side. “You, why do smell like her? Like Tove.” Speculations flared within him. He was almost certain he had seen them, @Tove and @Tamir, he had seen - His breath caught in his throat. Did they… His brows hardened as he waited rather impatiently for an answer, an explanation, words that would fill in the gaps to everything that felt lost within his walls.

@Velyre @Vahaelarr
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The wolf who’d fallen from the sky, it seemed, hadn’t broken anything vital. He could roll himself over, which was important. If he’d broken a leg or dislocated a shoulder, she probably wasn’t strong enough to perform a reduction on her own—not on this bulky fellow, anyway. And there was little she could do for a concussion here. Which she was fairly certain he had.

The other male denied any knowledge of him, yet he accused him of smelling like…someone they both knew, Vel assumed. She looked between the two wolves, and decided to keep her mouth shut for the time being. She had no idea what to say, anyway; whatever was going on between these two and this ‘Tove’ was of no concern to her. Instead, she rooted through the little bundle she’d been gathering for something that might be helpful. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much; some poppies that grew on the dry coastal cliffs, and a bit of moss and lichen.

If he allowed her, she would stuff some moss into the open gash on the injured wolf’s side. This would stem the bleeding. Otherwise, she would step back, leaving the herbs she gathered there for them to use as they saw fit.

---

feel free to skip Vel as needed while they talk; if other characters show up she’ll try to slink off quietly into the background

@Vahaelarr @Raenar

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Vahaelarr only stood back and watched as the scene unfolded before him, trepidation filling him to the brim. From his stomach to his mind, Vahaelarr felt uneasy. Uneasy about the situation as a whole. This was his first time witnessing the way one fell from the sky, and he couldn't help but wonder. Had he done the same? Vahae could not remember anything from his own awakening except that he'd been cold. Freezing, almost. He would have surely died then and there if Gjalla hadn't appeared. She'd given him the will to move, to live; by that time, Vahaelarr would've rather died knowing all that he had caused to happen. He watched unflinching as Raenar seethed and writhed, feeling nothing but apparant agony. Vahae could sympathize with him, he felt almost horrible for the other male. 

And then the elephant in the room was spoken on and he felt himself about to choke. He was asking Vahaelarr about Tove? For all Vahae knew, he should be asking this male how he knew Tove. He was defensive at best as his eyes snapped to the broken form of Raenar, his ears pulling backwards, his lips tightening. Vahaelarr nearly growled, almost lost his nerves of steel before he remembered who he was. Velaris was changing him, rending his morals and his manners into nothing but... just nothing. So Vahaelarr answered in the most honest way he could. “We went hunting just the other day.” He said, brow ticking upwards. 

His eyes quickly shot to Velyre and he watched her closely, almost protectively -- out of nowhere, he felt the need to make sure Raenar was unharmed. There was a devotion there that had stemmed out of nowhere; if he knew Tove from before, that meant he must have known the others. Vahaelarr was loyal to them, and so he was loyal to Raenar until he had a reason otherwise. “What is your name?” His question was directed at Raenar, but if the woman chose to answer as well, he'd welcome it. 

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Raenar made no motion to move away from the apparent healer as she vebtured toward him with a bit of moss clutched delicately between her jaws. He’d wince against the sting of pressure on his wound, but would otherwise be appreciative of her actions. Showing as much, he cast her a thankful glance. He made a mental note to thank her more adequately when he hadn’t been in such a state, assuming he could make it past this. But then his attention returned to the other male, the hard mask he had worn before returning quickly to his features.

Raenar’s own muzzle grew tight in response, watching as the other man before him grew defensive. He hadn’t understood why. What was he to Tove? His eyes searched him up and down, rather angrily as he pondered this man and why he hadn’t been immediately giving him the answers he sought. Then finally, he spoke. Not only did he know her, but they had gone hunting together? Annoyance twitched his brow and the muscles in his snout rippled.

“Where is she?” A combination of pain, a likely concussion, and the game of cat and mouse this man was playing at had the titan growing increasingly agitated. An urge within him begged to toss this man to the ground and demand that he answer his questions, but the ache rolling through him insisted he attempt no such thing. He had half a mind not to listen.

Raenar gritted his teeth, biting back words he ought not to say if he wanted this man to provide him answers. This was Tove. What if Tamir had been with her? Was it even a possibility? He didn’t know. Hope had turned to doubt and back again, the two emotions chasing the tails of one another in an endless parade, waring within him.

He hadn’t flinched as Vahae regarded the healer working over him in a strange manner. Casting it to the back of his mind, body aching, it was his soul that yearned to see his friends again. To somehow breach the impossible and cross a bridge thought to be uncrossable. He would go to the ends of the earth for them, and then whatever was beyond that. With only so much strength to speak, Raenar ignored his question, utilizing all of his efforts to say something that might have actually been meaningful.

“Tove, Tamir, Faust, Savan. Where are they?!” And then with the anger bubbling within him like a geyser, Raenar growled the words with little room for argument. This man knew something, he could feel it. And maybe he did have some manner of brain damage because he was sure he had seen Tove die. He was certain that Tove and Tamir were gone, that Savan was gone, and that Faust had disappeared. But surely if this was Tove, his Tove, the right Tove, the others would be with her too. They had to be.

@Velyre @Vahaelarr
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Still roiling from his encounter with his brother, Vahaelarr was in no mood for this. He sensed Raenar's amounting agitation and simply brushed it off, that was until the wolf practically snarled at him, baring his teeth in a demanding growl. Vahaelarr's eyes narrowed thinly, lilac eyes suddenly ablaze with an irritation of his own. He didn't know who this mutt was but he clearly knew the others, and so Vahaelarr told himself he'd remain courteous--that was until he did not. 

With small regard for Velyre, the wolf suddenly barged forwards, his shoulder narrowly missing hers so that he wouldn't belligerently shove her out of the way. His paws sank into the dirt and dust on either sides of the wounded wolf's head, his jaws snapping, teeth clicking together in a motion to silence his pitiful writhing and shouting. Throwing a tantrum as if he were a little pup. “You will not make demands of me. ” Through bared teeth, the titan snarled, the tall ears atop his head flattening back against his rounded skull. 

“I will ask the questions. How do you know them?” He demanded, the tail that once hung calmly beside his hocks now drifting upwards, snaking it's way above his pelvis, a stinking flag of asserted dominance. He would not be pushed around by some mangled pup, no. He was a Knight, a Prince; he was above this, yes. Vahaelarr was a good man, he was no murderer, but he was not above shoving this boy's snout into the mud if he so much as growled again.

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Did he think he would sink beneath him? Wither into a little puddle because this man seethed and sprayed spittle into his face, writhing like a beast? Raenar was bored with it, and had he not been so injured, he would have been amused. He had been fighting since he was a pup, training, and proving his worth in a world that had deemed him unworthy. He had bested Faust himself, even if he promised the man he would only bring it up on special occasions. He had no fear of this stranger now, not even a whisper.

Raenar strained his neck to evaluate the woman who had tended to him, worry creeping in that she had somehow been injured in the process. Miraculously it appeared that the raging man had narrowly missed her in his movements. When he turned back to the furious man coming undone before his very chest, his gaze grew deadly. With that, he vowed to punish whoever this man was the moment he had the strength to do so. He hadn’t any mercy for men like him. Targeting a severely wounded opponent being tended to by a healer was perhaps the only battle he thought he might be able to win.

“I don’t owe you anything,” He spoke the words quietly, unbothered, yet he was assured the man would hear him. Raenar regarded him with daggers for eyes, the golden blades dripping with warning. “You know them. And if you were smart, you would fear what they would do to you should you slip up here today. Whatever they are to you, that’s nothing compared to a lifetime of kinship.” He was playing poker with an unseen hand. There was no guarantee that he had known them, no assurance that he hadn’t been some random passerby, but the unhinged nature of his behavior told Raenar otherwise. It was enough to gamble on.

@Vahaelarr
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And like that, the wolf beneath him was no longer a sniveling, snarling mess. Vahaelarr's own lips pulled backwards over his once bared teeth, the carved etchings of anger that'd contorted his handsome face melting away like snowfall come spring. Malice darkened itself over the other brute's eyes, an emotion Vahaelarr knew all too well. He'd seen it in the eyes of enemies plenty, and in the eyes of his very own family--it was one he'd come to know, come to be immune to. It had no effect on him, only hardened his own gaze in reply. Thick brows furrowed above his pretty eyes that gleamed with an irritation ever fervent, pinned tight against Raenar. 

The words that spilled like fumes of hate from his mouth had Vahaelarr's face brightening not in joy, but in surprise. Arrogant... piece of- The thought was quickly tossed away in favor for a steel resolve, and Vahaelarr anchored himself, tethered himself to the ground beneath him. When he spoke, his voice was worth its weight in amusement. “Is this your futile attempt at intimidating me?” The wolf merely scoffed and moved with a suddenness, removing himself from above the injured wolf and turning his back, eyes staring back. “You do yourself no favors in winning my trust. Whether you believe you need it or not-” He tsked. “you will not be coming anywhere near them until you've proven to me you aren't some lying rogue, an enemy from the past looking to trick the first ignorant fool you meet. Well, I am not that fool.” Vahaelarr breathed. 

“So again, I ask: what is your name? If you are like family, then I would have heard of you.” His eyes narrowed. Vahaelarr wanted nothing more than to trust this wolf, but he would take no risks. If anyone were to bring harm to Tove, he would dislodge their throat from their neck. 

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If this man had been truly worried over intimidations by a man as wounded as he, then he had bigger concerns. Though yet again, a switch, another drastic change of emotion that would have left him whiplashed if he had any intentions to work alongside the belligerent fellow. Apparently unbothered, yet whatever it was, his words or his actions had calmed the raging antics of the yapping, snapping heathen.

“You think a rogue would literally fall from the fucking sky, on little breath, and request… what? Strangers? Targets?” His laughter was rasped, the pain blossoming between his ribs. He had never heard something so foolish from the man who insisted he hadn’t been a fool. If they truly were enemies, why would he have called for all four in such a wounded state? Would that have not meant almost certain death for himself?

Raenar was unbothered by his words. They were meaningless, fallen on ears uncaring to the implied threats of this stranger’s longwinded instability. It did him no favors. “Raenar,” His voice was as cold as ice, contempt for the listener lacing that single word. Fool he thought. This man had shown him a myriad of emotions in the small amount of time he had known him. Switching from one thing to the next in a chaotic way that made Raenar uneasy. Not for himself, but for his comrades whom he had apparently been aquatinted. He wondered how they had navigated the emotional instability of this man, and how he had known them.

@Vahaelarr
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