[Kappa]

The night was a sleepless one for Kappa, his title of Nightwalker a literal one as he roamed the taiga bathed in the moon's glow. He had had some trouble sleeping ever since Maesa had left; she had taken a part of him with her. He didn't feel whole without her by his side. To say that Kappa missed his mate was an understatement. Could he even call Maesa his mate anymore? A wave of sorrow fell over him like a heavy wet blanket, and he sighed a heavy, mournful sigh. Saboro's changes had been easy for Kappa to acclimate to; the loss of the love of his life was much more difficult to take. More than that, it drove the spear deeper to know that it had been a conscious choice for Maesa to leave Saboro behind, and Kappa with it. He did not hate her for leaving, he couldn't; not if that was what she had truly wanted. It hurt him terribly, but Kappa tried not to think about it.

Wheat-golden eyes studied the mountains, their jagged formations creating a clear line against the starry night sky. Snowy peaks glowed against the low light, a beautiful sight that they had not been privy to in the jungle. There were many things he would miss about the jungle, but the heat was not one of them. Kappa rather enjoyed the cold, thick fur well-suited for it. Snow crunched under his paws as he left the cover of the forest and began to travel through the open fields near the central lake. Yellow stalks of dried grass were bent over and covered in a layer of ice and snow, crackling as the Nightwalker's considerable bulk plowed a pathway down. Clumps of snow began to gather on his underside and legs, but Kappa paid the small nuisances no mind.

In a small gap between the clumps of frozen grasses, Kappa curled his haunches and sat. Breath plumed up in misty clouds as he sat, butterscotch gaze taking in the beautiful scene before him. The sky was cloudless, the moon nearly full and beaming brightly with a chorus of glittering stars. The wind was pleasantly absent, the world silent and peaceful. The jungle had always been so noisy, a crowded place overflowing with life and action; Kappa was a man who could appreciate silence.

Far in the distance on the other side of the lake, Kappa could barely make out the forms of a few elk come to drink. He hunkered down low, not to ready himself for the hunt but to simply make himself comfortable. They mingled around, ears and eyes flickering this way and that; such nervous creatures, and with good reason the man supposed. Who didn't enjoy a good elk flank? It was interesting to simply watch them, though. The cows truly did seem to care for their little ones, and the bulls were so prideful and boastful once they had won their one of many battles. There were few calves roaming, but many cows with bulging bellies. There would be the birth of a new generation soon to greet the spring that was soon to come.

He was quite interested in seeing that.

[Vance]

It's his first trip into the Third Ring. The earth is firm beneath his paws, unsuitable for concealing his fur. Kitkun goes to the riverbank instead, paws at the shoreline until he breaks through the mud, and rolls in it. New packmates may think his tradition filthy, but he imagines it might be useful, if he ever is to earn tattoos. Everyone knows the meaning of those red lines by now.

Tongue swipes the dirt from over his nose, even if it wouldn't impede him all that much, and the Ethiopian's multicoloured gaze falls upon the Nightwalker. He watches him for a moment, as he watches the elk, before deciding to announce himself with a soft woof. It's polite, at least.

[Kappa]

So distracted by the grazing elk was he that Kappa completely missed the approach of the stranger. The soft woof somewhat startled the Nightwalker, but he showed little sign besides his ears snapping backwards towards the other man, large head swiveling to follow. Sunbaked-wheat eyes took in Kitkun's appearance, his stance, his build - assessing him quietly before deciding that he was not a threat. He never had been; had the man meant Kappa harm, he wouldn't have announced himself with soft noise, but with teeth.

A toss of his head motioned the muddy man closer, inviting him to watch and, if Kitkun wished, to converse. Kappa certainly had questions for him. For instance, why was he covered in mud? First things first, introductions were in order. The Nightwalker needed to know who he was dealing with.

"Kappa," the tattooed man said in a hushed tone, not quite wanting his voice to carry and spook the elk. For the moment, Kappa was still tense and ready to react, as he often was. Kitkun seemed to mean no harm, but he was still a stranger. The Nightwalker would not let his guard down so easily. He was amenable though, and would be until the other man gave him reason to do otherwise. "You've been with Saboro long?" Kappa inquired, bright harvest-moon eyes flickering to Kitkun for a moment before returning to the elk. He couldn't remember ever seeing the bone-marked man in the crowds of Saboro during meetings or other social gatherings.

Perhaps he had simply eluded notice.

[Vance]

"Vance," he answers easily, as much the truth to him as anyone else would believe it to be. He smiles slightly when Kappa asks how long he has been one of them, veiled expertly in casualness. "In a way, all my life." Tricolour eyes fall on the Nightwalker, as the elk go about their grazing. Kappa is designed for stealth, and Kitkun is covered in mud. "I was born to the Tribe, and integrated into Saboro shortly before our move to the taiga."

He speaks with a pitchy pup's voice, but watches the Nightwalker with childlike eyes: catalogs the twitches and tensions of his every muscle and if he expresses recognition for the boy's home, or doesn't recall. Kitkun speaks to Kappa like they are acquaintances of the same circumstance, sits like he's been introduced to an idol, but stares like he wants to wear his skin.