When Celosia had been young, everyone had known that she would be one of the first to strike out on her own and see the world. They could see it in her starry eyes, how she wove stories and told tales with enthusiasm and longing as she looked toward the horizons. It was obvious that she would break their lines and strive for a new beginning, somewhere to make a mark and not be a simple sled dog, pulling sleds her whole life until she could no longer. One day she would break ranks and forge a path few before her had taken, freeing herself from her binds and moving forward. She would hope and dream, spend her days planning how she would leave and see new horizons and experience new environments.

   Frankly, it hadn't taken that long to beat such optimism out of her.

   No, it hadn't taken any time at all to turn her into a cynic, making dry comments and petty remarks. In fact, she had taken to it easily. Still, she had not entirely lost her dreamy outlook. She had still gazed longingly at the horizon when her higher-ups had not been paying attention. She had still planned her escape, clever mind working quickly. Her situation was not a kind one, one that had taken her too long to realize that she had to escape from. Her feelings weren't healthy, her cynicism was not healthy, her thoughts, more defeatist every day, would be the end of her spite and fire.

   But she was nothing if not spiteful, always happy to be petty and spit at the feet of those who had even somewhat wronged her. She wouldn't be alive if she wasn't spiteful, determined to prove others wrong. She had taken her spite and turned it into a weapon, cleaving her way to freedom with sharpened words and years worth of blackmail. She took pride in the returned cruelty, striding away with a light skip to her step and a wave to her curled tail. Freedom, at last, at the cost of her optimism. Seemed like a fair enough trade if you asked her. At this point, it wasn't like optimism would help her. She needed facts to make it in a foreign world.

   Admittedly, optimism would be a nice trait to have when you were stranded in the middle of a desert, too stubborn to ask for directions and walking right into the arid lands. Sun almighty, she was going to get herself killed with her stupidity. She had no water, she had no food. She had run out of resources half a day ago and by then she was too far in to go back to a forest she had passed to resupply. She was in the middle of a gods-forsaken desert! Without water!! Or food!!! She would end up like the sorry sap whose skeleton she had eyed warily two days back. All because she was an annoying dumbass. This is what I get for never cleaning up after myself, isn't it? For biting the human whenever they tried to tie me to the sled, huh? Can't see how this punishment ties to the crime, but I guess I'll accept it.

   Although she kept on walking, eyes on the horizon as she did. She would not let her former fatalism consume her, not yet. Perhaps she was meant to die in this desert, body left for the vultures as she baked to death beneath the sun. Or perhaps she was meant to survive by some miraculous means. Means about as miraculous as mountains appearing on the horizon as she loped along, pads cracked and beginning to bleed. Huh, maybe miracles did exist. Or maybe fate was cruel and petty and planned on having her die right before she reached the mountains' bases. Now that would be funny--albeit resulting in her death. Such was the price of ironic comedy.

   Picking up her pace in hopes of not dying an ironic death, the former sled-dog pressed toward the mountains on the horizon with a determined look in her eye. At the final stretch, she sprinted toward the rocky outcroppings in hopes of finding shelter in the shade they might provide. Just as her lungs began to reach their limit and her legs almost gave out beneath her, the exhausted mutt came to the beginnings of a tunnel. She gazed toward it, puzzled by the gentle gusts of cold air. Walking toward its source, the female was flooded with the smells of wolves.

   Fitting considering her mixed heritage, she supposed. Treading closer toward the tunnel's mouth, the small canine was careful in the placement of her steps. Yes, she ached. But she wouldn't let the pain be an excuse for being careless, especially in territory that clearly belonged to a pack. Still, she moved forward. Perhaps... Perhaps she could join, if they were accepting. She certainly was in no state to travel anymore, especially in this damn desert. If anything, she hoped she could rest for a while before setting out once more. That is, if she couldn't worm her way in first.

Wind whistles through the tunnel. Bitterkeit enjoys the sound of it: hollow and echoing, almost unreal. This is why the Bacchus dire has taken to overseeing the bounty board within that tunnel, to revel in the silence. That is, when they need the time away from Basma, which is frequent.

That silence is disturbed this day. An outsider has arrived, it would seem, and although Immigration is not Bitterkeit's position, there is little not under their authority, should they desire. Leadership of a Nation is not a single-handed endeavor, and Bacchus is severely lacking in hands, at the moment.

They emerge from the alcove just as Celosia approaches it, stopping her short, a pleasant smile fixed on their face. No wonder Basma tolerates them. "Are you lost?" Obviously, but Bitterkeit is not one to overstep an opportunity to instill discomfort in someone.

   The wolf-dog wandered through the dark tunnels, head held high as she scented the air. There didn't seem to be any branches off from the main tunnel for now, or at least as far as she could gather. It was almost completely dark the longer she walked in, warm air at her back clashing with the cold air that practically slapped her in the face as she got further and further to what she presumed was an exit.

   She stopped when a shape stepped in front of her, blocking her way and causing the thick-furred female to take a step back. However, she did not cower. She was not the sort to do that, too headstrong in her pride and "bravery" (more or less stupidity) to cower in front of individuals she did not know. Gazing up at them, her eyes--having adjusted to the darkness--gazed at them curiously, noting how they seemed a bit odd. They were clearly of a different breed than she, although she doubted the fellow canine was of an entirely different species.

   They were much larger than she, standing over the curly-tailed female by a notable amount. And, in the darkness, she noted the slope of their snout and the long, pointed tips of their ears, eyeing the features curiously. They seemed to have a mane of sorts, the mass of fur eventually sloping into what seemed to be incredibly thick fur. She had never seen an individual like them, having only ever been exposed to your average wolf and fellow sled dogs. To view someone who looked so starkly different was something of an experience for the young mutt, pink-ish red eyes widening as she took them in.

   "Bold of you to assume I'm lost. For all you know, I could know the exact coordinates of where I'm standing," she remarked, tossing her head enough that the tassels that hung off her leather collar bounced against her thick fur. "But," she began sharply, "I don't. So, yes, one could consider me lost." She was clearly trying to amuse the individual, already trying to worm her way into their heart. Her ridiculous charm did have an effect on people, after all. Annoyingly charming, at least. But! Charming nonetheless.

"Bacchus," they remark, answering both the question implied and unspoken: Where am I and What are you? "Civilization, lucky for you." There's an odd sort of melody to the way the wolf speaks, some foreign smoothness-- rural slack, but the lilt of nobility. An odd combination-- and questionable intention. Bitterkeit turns, a slow stride deeper into the dim tunnel, high voice raising to carry behind them. "This way then, lass. You've come too far to die on the doorstep." They're in no mood to move bodies-- even one so small as hers.

"Normally, there's an officer posted to handle visitation and such, but I suppose I'll have to suffice." he casts, with a grin to convey Lucky you. They turn into a room, illuminated by cracks in the ceiling which allow the cold to settle inside. Bitterkeit quickly makes themself quite comfortable in the pile of dried grasses laid down to lessen the fatigue of long shifts. "So then," they start, staring at Celosia quite openly, "What brings you out this way?"