Amera's cadaverous body slicked through the bush, heavy steps scaring the smaller critters from her whereabouts. She was likely to eat them if she ever came across one of the weasely little animals.

She had to wonder what would have become of her if she held her place in the clan. She'd withheld such loyalty and love to her alliance, caring so effortlessly much for each and every one of the beings - it was simply her skittish and brute nature that seemed to pit them against her. Titles were born into, but above all, they were garnered through loyalty and witts, courage and determination. However, while Amera had loyalty she lacked the other prerequisite traits.

She'd been promised so, incredibly much as a wolfling. Her nature seemed to derive from that path. If she were to have known her place in the world as she'd grown, she would have taken the chance to flee when it was placed in front of her. Perhaps, if she'd fought a bit more as a youngster, and kept her place, then perhaps she'd still be the majesty of a wolf she had been decades ago - maybe even she'd be so much more than that.

The dame continued on her trail of the border, lobes swivelling around as she listened to the world around her. The wind shifted a slight, sending the scents of the neighbouring clans her way. She was all too used to it, and along with it came the faint smell of metallic blood, red in all ways from the latest brawls between clans - or perhaps it'd been from a recent hunt... a fox and a deer, or maybe even an eagle snatching one of their puppies. They deserved as much... after all, they didn't need more mindless warriors to fight their battles.

The dame shook her head and continued on her travels, pacing the borders, on the lookout for anyone who might have even the idea to penetrate their hunting grounds. The moon was at high rise now, very nearly starting to dip back down once more... a few more hours. She'd be out for just a little longer until she could finally find some real, meaningful rest.

As some heavier sounds behind her rattled the soft ground behind her, she turned sharply, eyes narrowing as she stalked towards the sound, searching the area around the direction of the rattled bush. If there was a being there - a being likely to cause her arm - she shouldn't be able to attack, but at least a shriek would alarm the rest of her clan mates of the hostilities.

A few, still moments passed before settling to the idea that there wasn't a being there... at least nothing she should fret about. She turned tail within a moment, keeping on with her duties. If a job well done was achieved, then perhaps she'd be recompensated with an extra leg of doe to keep her going for the following evenings of work.

Her hackles were raised so slightly, however, the unsettling feeling of eyes on her as she sauntered.

Bayne rested disguised beside the northern borders, his focus confined on the knackered and ailing damsel heading throughout her own area.

He retained an eye on her as she plodded on, her presence compelling the little critters to scurry away from her path of travel. Her gaunt appearance and lumbering stride implied a canine who had been through difficulties and starvation, her carnivorous instincts honed by the urge to survive.

A flash of acquaintance flickered across Bayne's thoughts as he proceeded to gaze at her. He couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen her before, but her presence seemed recognizable. He dismissed it as a fleeting notion, refocusing his concentration on the task at hand.

His mission was to maintain the northern border, and he wouldn't let anything divert him from ensuring his clan's protection.

The emergence of the dame elicited contrasting emotions in Bayne. On the one hand, he was unable to empathize with her predicament. He knew the battle for existence and the difficulties of living in the wilderness.

Nonetheless, his allegiance to his own clan and the norms that monitored their area prevented him from venturing out or offering assistance.

Bayne's keen reflexes bore on heightened alert as the dame journeyed across her area, her ears swiveling to pick up on every little sound. He could sense her wariness, her natural drive to uphold herself and survive in a harsh environment. The shifting breeze imposed aromas from nearby clans, as well as the corrosive tang of blood, an indicator of the land's unaltered difficulties. Bayne's concentration was momentarily diverted as he reflected on the choices and routes that had contributed them to this point. He reflected on the significance of fidelity and commitment in determining one's destiny, considering how the dame's voyage contrasted with his own. If the circumstances had been distinctive, if she had taken different actions, their paths may have intersected in a different way.

Bayne was unable to prevent feeling apprehensive as the dame continued her inspection. He was able to sense her stare at him, but he resided concealed, shrouded in the gloom. He wondered whether she'd seen him if her senses pointed her to his vigilant gaze. His stern confront was unchanged, but a part of him was cautious, anticipating the prospect of tension or confrontation.

But Bayne retained his ground, learning the dame's movements with an equal degree of intrigue and trepidation. He felt the pressure of the responsibilities he had chopping down on him, informing him of the necessity of his role in manning his clan and maintaining the boundaries of their domain.

He had no notion that the dame he had observed was Amera, a once-prominent part of his childhood. Their paths had parted ways many years ago, but fortune had brought them back together, albeit inadvertently. The resemblance that niggled at the margins of Bayne's mind remained elusive, tucked under veils of obligation and precaution.

With a push of his entire frame, he appeared partly through the underbrush, his helmeted gaze searing at the dame's rear, his presence dwelling on his side of the area.

Bayne was not concerned if he had been noticed or not; with her diminishing form, he settled in his domain, regal and perilous.

Amera's mind simply wandered as she paced a few steps, about a million thoughts rushing through her mind in the duration of but a minute second.

There was a time when she would have been brave. Her destiny would have been altered - she may not have been such a pitiful being. She may have been anything but an omega - perhaps she'd be a lone wanderer, or have her own pack. Maybe, if she were lucky, she'd have found a suitable mate, and have heirs to her title, which would be anything but the lowest of the low.

She would not be on the verge of being run out of her own pack, or having to take every punch and blow from her larger packmates... she might have been just a tiny bit more meaningful to this sorrowful life. She would not just be born to die but born to live a life of elucidation and significance. Not that that wasn't achievable now... it was simply improbable.

Amera's hackle stayed erect as she took those couple of powerless steps, her plumage tucked in between her crus. The indelible sensation of being perceived scorched into her back, causing her lobes to swivel and twitch as she listened to the surrounding noises, freezing as her body unallowed her movement.

Yes, she was certainly being watched.

Consternation scratched at Ameras brain, causing her mind to start to whirl in all directions.

A wolf, is what she was meant to be, was she not? Determined and brave and strong was what she meant to strive for, correct? So why, of all things was the simple movement of a brush disconcerting her to such an invaluable extent?

Why was she cowering the way you might see a simple red fox as it fought for its unforgiving life?

She scampered forwards, her pathetic body still striving to keep its host alive as it hid behind a large old birch tree. It may just be a bird. One that was likely to make a wonderous meal, or perhaps a nest of mice that had chosen to reside in the depths of the brush. However, an overpowering sense of dimness was telling her otherwise... that this was, perhaps, something to not brush off so lightly.

She was practically on the neighbouring clan's border... she should expect their troops scouting, however, she did find that... difficult to mind. She would watch until they passed, making sure that they passed rather than penetrating their agreed borders... however, if they did so, she wouldn't be able to do much more than throw herself at their talons hollar.

A simple whiff of the air, however, told her that it was just one wolf. The scent was familiar, consisting of pine leaves and damp undergrowth... she connected it strongly with her childhood, but she also recalled spending a stupendous amount of time out here in her early days. Perhaps that tree was blooming.

It was a few moments until she'd caught movement, and she'd caught a glimpse of the brute before hiding away, keeping herself tucked away. She had not connected that her past companion had shown himself; all that was running through her head as of then was that she had to stay put. Quiet, like a mouse.

Bayne appeared from the gloom, his sharp as a razor perception slashing through the undergrowth as he sought the canine. He was on edge, physique taut and muscles poised to burst into motion at any indication of peril. His senses had piqued up by her presence, and he could detect her eye on him. The sensation was undeniable.

Bu maintaining a respectable distance, Bayne delicately inched nearer to the position she had established. His senses urged him to keep watchful; one could never be too apprehensive when it came to the unknown. He wasn't about to let down his defense any time soon.

His authoritative and reverberating voice disturbed the hush that blanketed the air. "You seem recognizable,'' he told.

"Have we encountered before?" he stated his tone laced with enthusiasm and moderation. He hoped that her comment would provide a little insight into the enigma of her existence.

However, Bayne's keen gaze scoured the scene, absorbing each detail. The earthy fragrance melded with the distant scent of pine forests. He observed as silhouettes danced across the leaflets, forming intricate designs on the soil below. But his focus resided riveted on the hooded figure, looking for any indication and any hint as to who she may be.

His mind pounded, trying ways of putting together memory fragments that could give an answer. He pondered if she was a fugitive from another clan or an individual looking for protection. The possibilities raced through his mind, each one contributing to the mystique that surrounded her.

Bayne's physique remained clenched ready to respond at any moment. He was unable to afford to let down his watchful eyes, despite his keenness. He had an obligation to protect his tribe, which included analyzing any potential threat with a keen eye. While his manner seemed regulated, an unsettling undertone surged through his veins.

He kept clinging to the spot while he awaited for her to respond. The peacefulness hovered in the air, generating a sense of discomfort. Bayne's glare never wavered, unwavering and uncompromising. He was eager to confront whatever discovery awaited him, whether it gave answers or increased to his bewilderment.

Bayne stood as a sentinel in the heart of the tranquil setting, his presence a monument to his everlasting devotion to his tribe. His encounter with this enigmatic creature had piqued his interest, but he remained engaged in his work. He was eager to stand by and serve, even if it meant descending further into the enigma that abruptly engulfed him.

Bayne's endurance waned as time progressed. He had a resolve to discover the truth and to disentangle the resemblance that lingered in the air. Until then, he was going to stay attentive, his senses well-tuned to the murmurs of the forest, while he awaited her response and got geared up for whatever bode ahead.

The bijou dame cowered behind the largest tree she'd conquered, impetuously quivering close to the dark shrubbery she resided on. Her thin plumage tucked up between her thighs as she contemplated the predicament.

Amera could not squeal for assistance unless the intense brute dare set paw over the borders, in which case she'd have no option but to charge and thrust herself at the male. She'd barely been a fly to him when it came to a brawl, yet she could try her very hardest to at least impare faster movements. Even one penetration into her unassailable abode could create but a flood of unwanted issues.

No, he would not pass her.

The fae could detect his ogle on her, sending the most inhumane twinge down her spine. What was he plotting? An advance, an attack? He knew he could do all that he pleased and would not suffer major injuries.

She did not know the male, but the scent that illuminated him was so completely and undeniably familiar to her. Perhaps they'd crossed paths before, maybe as younglings before the clans set their borders and the dispute worsened. Perhaps their mothers had been acquainted, and his scent lingered on her wonderfully comforting and soft coat. Perhaps they'd fought over a bone in their early years, however, she'd never know.

She could spend internity wondering about the stranger, however, she needed to stay aware; keep her wits about her, and protect her much-loved clan with all she had. They, as always, would be her first port of call for as long as she could allow it.

She was eager to impress, despite her fear of doing so. Her life could very well be on the line, however, despite her mind, her body just continued flinching at every unexpected movement, still striving to keep its worthless hoast going. Getting ready to flee no matter how her brain said to do otherwise.

Amera was slightly caught off guard by the comment - the question regarding their encounters. She had not expected it, however, the creature opposed to her had no intention of causing her harm. She could see so much through the laxness of his features. If he had such intentions, he would not have been showing.

Her ears flickered as she listened to the whispers of her surroundings, alerts high as she searched for any indication that this attempt of a conversation was not a plot to surround her. Nothing, not so far.

"I don't believe so," a raspy but light voice replied as her head moved from the corner of the rounded tree, showing off that little colour she had left in her coat.

Her lobes flattened against her cranium as she stalked forward a pace or two, inspecting the brute, though keeping her more than a healthy distance from him. "You expect you recognise me?"

Bayne glanced at the petite dame emerge from her cocoon with prudence, her flimsy coat embellished with flecks of color that whispered of waning vitality. Her gruff yet velvety voice touched his eardrums, verifying that they hadn't ever met before. He sponged in her seem, observing her worn manner and the flattened position of her earlobes. She appeared apprehensive, poised to flee at the first provocation.

Her inquiry endured in the air as she centered her attention on him. Did he think she'd recognize him? Bayne's incisive gaze pierced hers, his entire frame bristled yet his demeanor deadpan. He had a flair for maintaining his composure in the face of disaster. It was a survival instinct he had established in his adulthood phase.

"I are unable to assert for sure," he declared his voice modest and at ease, his sentences measured. "There's something familiar about you, like a fragrance."

"It conjures a distant recall, but I have no idea where it." His response was uncomplicated and unadorned. Bayne was not one to imitate information or make misleading connections.

He approached nearer his enormous bulk flinging a coercing darkness, yet his actions were methodical, meant to communicate an aura of dominance without intimidation. He kept a courteous distance, aware of her concern. Despite his stern demeanor, his purpose was not to persuade but to get understanding.

"There is a quality about you that piques my curiosity," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of intrigue. "You carry yourself with both weariness and resilience."

"It is as if you have endured much and yet continue to press on. What has brought you here, alone and in such a state?"

Bayne's words hung in the air, a subtle invitation for her to share her tale if she chose to do so. He dwelt rooted to his land, never crossing the line into her domain. His stoic demeanor remained unyielding, his senses attuned to any signs of aggression or deception. He was defined to fulfill care of the circumstance, to secure the welfare of his pack, and to grasp the riddle that lay before him.

As minutes lapsed, he kept his focus glued on her, in search of any evidence of sentiment, any disclosure that may shed a spotlight on her presence. The woodland sat stationary, as if holding its breath, enabling the tension to fester between them. Bayne's thoughts raced, thinking about the possibilities, the potential risks, and the unwritten stories she grasped within her weary frame.

An ember of sympathy flashed in the depths of his psyche. He could see the sake in her eyes, the weight of her past lingering. But Bayne also understood that he was unable to rest his guard, that prudence was essential. He was an defender and a watchdog, and his commitment was to his pack.

So he stood there, a domineering figure in the waning light, his gaze riveted on hers. They performed a ballet of reluctance and wonder as they controlled the delicate balance of trust and wariness. The truth was still cloaked in obscurity, but the link, however fragile, lingered in the air, encouraging them both to dive further into the secrets that had interwoven their destinies.

Amera steadily let her muscles relax, though soon turned tail in a swift movement as he sauntered forwards. Once she'd come to that he meant her no harm, she simply curled her lip in a type of growl, dispising that she'd let the sudden movement of the strange brute displace her feelings.

She settled soon enough, letting her tail now wrap tightly around her paws as she sat her rump on the wet ground. Her hackles were still raised high, or, what was left of them anyway. She held no trust for this strange being... none at all. He had not passed the borders, yet he was close enough to jump at her without giving her a moment to move.

And yet, she had not fleed. Her loyalty and responsibility lay with her clan, to walk these borders until she was sure of no annoyance or disturbance. Now, thanks to this intruding brute, she could not leave until he'd gone further into his own territory.

His questioning had piqued her interest, mind. Why would such a stranger ask for her tale? It was not much of a tale, really. Just a short anecdote as to how she'd managed to mind herself in such an awful state. "I do not appreciate your snooping," the dame spat to the stranger, her lobes still pinned to the back of her cranium. "I do not know you," she then growled, her voice cold and rougher than it'd been in the first instance. It was as though she had a frog caught in her throat or needed to cough up some bile.

"You are imposing, you know. You have no right to ask about me, as little right as I have to ask about you," the fae continued, her demeanour much like the way you'd hear a young mother scolding her puppies.

She kept herself still small, protecting their comfortable spacing, trying not to come across as any kind of threat, however, that didn't seem likely in the worst of settings.

A heavy deflation of her lungs escaped her, tensing her jaws for but a moment before relaxing once more. "If you must know, I am not alone. My clan are waiting as normal, however I cannot leave until you move on," she grum grumbled to the brute.

It was a delecate sensation, as though the air was thin between them. "I had an incicent as a puppy. I cannot remember specifics, however when I returned there was a shift in the packs demenor towards myself. As a result, I am this," the fae brushed over her bruised and cut sides with a thin plumage. He need not know she was a lowly omega. He need not know that her clan truely did not care so much for one another.

"I don't suppose you've ever been in such a contitions. I implore you never to try it." Amera studied the imposing figure of the large brute. His coat was bright and thick, and his frame was filled with good feedings. Perhaps he was an alpha, adored and cared for by every one of his subjects. Or a traveller. Or an heir of sorts. He was well groomed and cared for, she could see as much.

"However, I will admit your scent does have a familiar tone. I don't take it you come here often?"

Her interests had diverted to where she recognised his scenting... perhaps he'd scarred her years ago while crossing paths, or she'd missed him daily and simple picked up on his trails. Whatever the way, she was curious to find out where he'd been.

As he approached, Bayne observed the bijou dame's reaction, witnessing the slight arc of her lip and the growling that came from the back of her throat.

He wasn't influenced by her performance, his physique rigid but his facial expression resolute. He understood her skepticism and mistrust, understanding the importance of prudence in these unanticipated circumstances.

Her comments, laden with venom and rebellion, made a way into his ear canals. She voiced her displeasure with his presence, questioning his reasons for being and expressing her independence. Bayne let her words linger in the air, his gaze was steely and unrelenting. He didn't feel the need to clarify himself or justify his queries in response to her accusations. He resided steadfastly, and his curiosity was unquenchable.

"I do not intend to encroach upon your domain," he said calmly, the tone rich and firm. "I honor the limitations that have been set."

''Within the arena of discussion, however, we have the flexibility to investigate, learn, and comprehend one another."

He observed the rigid stance melting gradually as her silhouette settled on the supple ground. She talked about her tribe, how their presence was still lurking in the background, and how she was unable to depart until he moved on. It was an indicator of their delicate balance, the tacit agreement to keep their distance.

Bayne tuned in attentively as she revealed an overview of her history, one cloaked in hazy memories and the wounds of a fluctuating clan relationship. He could hear the ache and solitude in her voice, as well as the burden of her hardships in every syllable. The tale she told was not one of triumph or grandeur, but rather of survival in a world that had not been fair to her.

"I understand that misfortune can shape us in ways we never imagined," he stated his voice solemn. "Life can be brutal and recalcitrant but it is within us to rise above it, to find power in our own resilience."

Bayne's stare warmed for a minute, a glint of tenderness reflecting in his eyes. He noticed the scrapes and cuts adorning her frail structure, a witness to the difficulties she had faced. He understood the significance of her statements and the dangerous narrative that lay behind them.

"No, I cannot claim to have experienced the same conditions as you," he stated his voice sweetly sincere. "However, I have seen conflict, both in myself and in others."

''Those events teach us compassion and the importance of helping one another."

He drew a breather, his gaze connecting hers with an unspoken understanding. Her fragrance had a familiarity to it, a link that danced just beyond his reach. It spoke to him, speaking of a shared history or an unintentional encounter in their distant past.

She must admit, however, she was curious. She was wondering as to where his singingly heavy scent of pine and moss had come from, and why her senses remembered it so completely and utterly. Her mind rumbled at him, complelling her to stay and answer his imosing questions, despite her body giving every indication that she should flee the sight.

He started to speak on how resilience could shape a being. Really? He truly thought so? "I fear you do not understand the difference between resilience and wimpishness," she fae growled back to him, dismissing his attempt at an intellectual conversation. She should flee if she had no intention of caring to converse with him, however, something about him was compelling her to stay put.

Her plumage relaxed so slightly, not tucked up to her body, not sitting on them, but rather now, she was simply relaxed. His calm features told her she could be more laxed.

"Everyone has seen conflict. You are not special," she minded him with a wrinkled nose. "You have not suffered from conflict, you have not lost from it. You seem well cared for, well groomed and fed. You have not lost," she repeated, her nose tilting up to him as she looked around.

"As you say, if you would like to learn on another, reveal histories, I will abide by that. I agree. If you would like to reject my statements then attempt it," she added with ears flattened against her skull once more, still exposing her clear submission to him.

"Most call me Amera," she noted shortly, her cranium slightly cocked to the side as she slowly crawled forwards once more.

She could admit her intrigue was only growing more and more. Something in his features was compelling her forwards, to relax even more than she already had been. "And what do you go by?"

(Slightly short, I'm busy!)