Swift and fiery came her reaction, a stark contrast to the frosty demeanor she’d offered that morning. With the same composition of a soldier being yelled at by their superior, he did not waver. Internally, he might’ve been a little concerned at the repercussions of her being so angry, but in the moment, frustrated himself, he relished in it. Just a little. His grip tightened on the reins of his mare as she very nearly collided her stallion with them. “I am the Commander of the Immortal Army, and your escort currently. It is my duty to make sure you are safe.” It wasn’t as if he expected his words to calm her down. Retrospectively, he might even acknowledge that further goading was taking it a little far.

Her angry words continued in a flurry. He did not reach to catch the sheathed weapon she tossed at him haphazardly, instead collecting it once it fell in his lap. Sorely did the Commander want to remark about such a thing being unladylike, sorely did he want to goad her more… And then she pressed further with her words. Was he enraged at her words? No. Insulted? Perhaps a little. She huffed, her fair skin the slightest bit pinked with the hint of her words. At once bowing his head to hide the fleeting smile, he cleared his throat. “I will do my best, m’Lady.”

Giving his mare a squeeze, it was his turn to invade the space of she and her stallion. Directing the paint around her mount’s rear, reappearing on their other side, he didn’t offer it to her. Instead, with a quick press, he slipped it right back into the boot she’d torn it free from. He half expected her to kick or smack him in that moment, and quickly kicked his mare away. Not long after, her escort arrived.

Was the departure taking it too far? Maybe. But, it was from his Command, that he had learned the importance of proving a point. The only problem, of course, was that Solara was just as unyielding as he was.
--
A favor. That was what Connor had requested of her sentry, which had returned to camp to share his words. A change of plans. I need to ask that someone lead her back toward the Kingdom. It was not difficult for Alvina to speculate as to what had happened. At the clearest level, she suspected it had to do with whatever, or whomever, had driven them to seek refuge on her mountain. Secondary thoughts considered the possibility of him inciting an argument, or maybe scaring the thing. But she hadn't seemed the simpering type, based on the brief interaction the she-wolf had experienced with her. With some consideration, she’d paused in her work over the breakfast stewpot, tapping the ladle against the rim as she decided upon who to send. Once the decision was made - a strapping werebear, and one who she knew wouldn't lash out at the woman as Warin or others had Connor - she sent the sentry on their way. The small sparrow dispersed her message, and as far as she was concerned, that was the end of it.

Only a few hours later, however, a cacophony of voices erupted. A string of quickly passed tones from her sentry, calls for arms, a warning; she was already out and among the trees then, leading a patrol. Had she been doing anything else in a human form, she might well have faltered in her task. Halting, her nails digging into the tuft beneath her, her nose drew in the air, seeking any trace to clue her in even as she spoke.

‘Where? How many?’ Her voice echoed in the minds of all nearby beasts, a projection which swiftly silenced the clamoring voices. The fatigued tones of the Werebear met her first: on the path leading to the west, out of the mountains. Six humans. Shifting on her paws, another brief exchange followed – one which made it very apparent that Solara had not followed him. Was she afraid of the Commander brining his wrath down upon them for such a thing? No, she knew that the man had no grounds when he himself was here likely without anyone knowing. The biggest concern was the need to neutralize the threat against the pack. With the presence of the Immortal girl, however, there was also a matter of principle. An insult at one of their own, even if she was only being escorted temporarily, falling victim. That principle further spurred the urgency of their response.

At Alvina’s insistence, the Werebear remained within the territory as she and a band of others set out. Some time would pass before they managed to close the distance, following the blood trail of their injured pack mate back to the site of the attack. What they found, however, were signs of a scuffle, and a swath of coagulating blood staining the dirt. Alvina’s nose twitched at the scent, nosing about the puddle and pausing at the bloody stump of an arrow shaft. The others, meanwhile, sought their next direction and fanned out at the sight. Nosing the arrow, ears flicking in recognition, her head rose. The she-wolf knew the smell even if she’d only encountered the person once.
A soft growl drew her ear, and with a predatory precision she and the others converged on the path that would take them after their prey. It had been difficult initially to find, for the area reeked of their scent all over, an indication that they’d lingered for a time. However, the blood-scent of the Immortal woman was enough to direct them – a beacon amongst the odors of horse, forest, and human.

What followed was an ambush, though one which was better staged than the human’s attempt. Night had begun to fall by that point. Perhaps the humans assumed their ability to handle any wayward passersby, for their fire was large, the smoke tinging the air for hundreds of yards. When the Weres closed the distance, moving silently among the brush, the figures were illuminated plainly by the flames. Men sat about bedrolls, some talking, some lain out resting. They were all thin, wiry. Masked by the darkness, creeping forward, it was not long before Alvina’s blood-red eyes identified the heap of the Immortal woman’s form by the fire. From the shadows of the trees, and the contrast of the orange-y glow, it was impossible for Alvina to spy the bloody twist of a tourniquet at her leg. With so much blood having lead them here, the she-wolf felt her lips draw back from her teeth. Indeed, she was likely dead. And it was a wonder that her escort hadn’t been too.

‘Go.’ Protect our family, the single word conveyed. With that simple command, they descended. Screams tore through the night air, the odors of smoke and pine mixing with blood before long. The humans had little time to react, and few blows were exchanged even by their fittest. In their weakened state they were quickly done away with.

In the aftermath, while some of their ranks dispersed to check for any escapees in the forest, a couple of others shifted into their human forms to collect the corpses and situate them in the flames. Alvina was a third, but she did not move to join them. Instead, bare as the day she’d been born, she ducked in. Her brown eyes surveyed the woman, lingering on the bloody tourniquet. Her skin was ashen, eyes closed. Heat of the fire lapped at her flesh as Alvina knelt down. Her fingers found the small space at the woman’s neck, pressing firmly, lingering. To her surprise, the faintest of pulses lapped against her touch. With ease she caught Solara under her arms to pull her away from the bonfire they were creating with the corpses. Nearby, one of her men made mention of a horse. It was scared half to dead, both from their scents and all the blood in the air, but as her eyes settled briefly upon it, she knew that would be the quickest way to return her to the place where she might be treated.

Grasping one of the blankets from the expired humans, her nose wrinkled at the scent. Not having the luxury of choice, she went about bundling the woman up. Satisfied, the next task was getting her settled on the horse. Fashioning a travois would take too much time. Ultimately, it was she that settled behind her, carefully balancing her head against the crook of her neck – much like a mother might comfort their child - as another were assisted in securing her in place. Not long after, they were on their way back, Alvina taking care to try to not pressure the bruising on the woman’s face.

When they finally reached camp, none protested at Alvina’s instructions to treat the woman. The horse was secured while Alvina and the closest people they had to healers went about caring for her injuries. In the warmth of one of their structures, they went about stripping her clothing, checking over her injuries, and washing her skin. While one went to retrieve the herbs necessary to manage the pain that might come if she survived, Alvina the other used what small supply of alcohol the camp harbored to sterilize a needle and thread. The work done to ultimately close the wound from the arrow was surprisingly clean, a product of living in isolation and tending to injuries in such a way for so many years. A small concoction with poppy extract settled within her cheek, loose garments drawn about her form, and situated on a cot by the fire – the game then became one of waiting.

At some point, she sent one of the pack to seek out Connor. Beyond that, Alvina lingered in the space, the crackling of fire more audible than Solara’s shallow breaths as time stretched on.

Her sensitive ear caught the rustling of the blanket lain over the Immortal woman as she stirred. Head tilting, she blinked, watching her from the corner of her scarred eye for a moment. When she coughed, a rough, parched sound, Alvina shifted to retrieve one of the cups and a bowl settled at the periphery of the room. Kneeling at her side a moment later, she held the smaller vessel out between her calloused fingers, with those of her other hand ready to aid in supporting her head were she to choose to sip. "Drink. It's water." Waiting until she was satisfied, she quietly settled the cup on the rough floorboards near her head.

Her first actual words caused a small chuckle of amusement within the she-wolf, for she had not at all expected such a question from one of her people. Then again, if she was tagging along with Connor it made sense that she might be a little unconventional herself. Or she was simply a decent person. "He is; bled a little, but he's fine. That's the fortunate thing about our healing abilities. You... I can't say the same for." Her brows knit slightly, head tilting. "I didn't think you were breathing when we first got to you."

Folding her legs beneath her, she reached to retrieve the bowl containing a rag and some water. The soft noises of the liquid dripping and splashing sounded as she went about moistening the rag. With Solara’s expression of gratitude, Alvina’s hooded, and her hair slipped into her face as she shook her head. "You were our charge. We disposed of them so it won't happen again." She commented mildly. She spoke of killing much in the way that Connor did - coolly, as a kind of necessity. However, the difference, not yet seen, was more nuanced in her philosophy than Connor's. She was always purposive, always looking to protect her pack or those she cared for when staining her paws in such a way. His history was far less kind, something which the she-wolf absentmindedly wondered if the woman was aware of. Gently gathering the rag, her fingers lightly brushed the hair from Solara's brow as she gently settled the coolness of the rag in place there. "Not from a horse?" Well, that did make sense with her being the ranch-owner whose horses Connor had come looking for. A soft snort, her hands folding in her lap as she blinked at the tired-looking woman. "I imagine this looks just as bad as a strike from one.. It'll darken a little further, I expect, but will improve with some time." Her eyes fell toward her leg. “The arrow wound will scar. But you should rest. No need to worry about that now.” Her voice held a calm, soothing tone. It was simultaneously motherly and familiar, as if she’d known the woman for a far longer time.

From her position perched beside the Immortal woman, she'd not missed her lack of comment on her own condition. Really, she hadn't expected her to say much, even as she had. She was frail as she was now. Even with the detection of a pulse in her throat, her lithe form had been almost cold to the touch when the she-wolf had retrieved her. With so much blood on the scene, so much blood having lead them to her, it really did seem remarkable that she'd survived. As if to punctuate that came the violent coughing fit, followed by the twisting of her form. Not hesitating, responding similarly to how she might treat someone shifting, the Alpha's touch gently smooth over her shoulder. A soothing gesture, meant to assist when she finally smoothed her body back out. It was with a polite admiration that she averted her eyes to gaze at the fire when the tears began welling in the Solara's eyes. "Tell me when you feel stronger, alright? Consider it an excuse to not die." The utterance came with a try flavor to her tone.

When the fit subsided, her gaze returned, and Alvina's briefly surveyed her. Thumb and forefinger pinching the rag at the edges, she gently adjusted it further over her flesh until she was satisfied. Yes, indeed it was remarkable that she had lived through the ordeal. With the drooping of her eyes and the words slurring away with sleep, she blinked, regarding her. Taking a small amount of water between her fingers, she allowed more drops to fall on the rag for good measure. Lingering for a few minutes thereafter, she rose and slipped out quietly to stretch her legs.

The air was heavy with cold, a layer of frost spreading outward over the ground as the air chilled further with the pressing night. Snowfall would come soon, any evening in the coming days. It was something the pack had been preparing for intently for some time. Gathering her shawl around her shoulders, she paused to lean against once of the supporting posts of the small structure.

She'd been lingering like that for a few minutes when an echoed soft a voice sounded in her thoughts. 'I haven't been able to find Connor. It doesn't seem like he started a fire anywhere from what I could see.'

Her lips pressed together, head tilting. Was it that the Immortal was being overly cautious, or was there more to it? Was he stalking his own prey that night? 'If you or Angelica would care to make another flight tomorrow, we will check again then. It won't do any good this late in any case.' At the least, certainly not without a Were-owl in their midst. 'Thank you.' It was a subtle dismissal. In other words: go get some rest.

Turning to go back to the small room housing their guest, she paused at the sound of approaching footsteps, and it was not long before a peachy face appeared. Coming into the light cast by the window, the fiery haired woman with skin thoroughly smattered with freckles held in her hands a bowl. "I wanted to bring this since nobody saw you at dinner." Nicole held out the offering with a distinctly primate-like, toothy smile.

Alvina's lips slowly spread in her own, as she met the woman to take the bowl. "Thank you dear."

A brief pause, the woman looking a little uncomfortable at first. "I know... some of the elders aren't happy about her being here. About Connor either. But if you want to take a break, I don't mind." The woman spoke, twisting a coppery lock about her finger.

Leaning forward enough to peek in through the window, Alvina settled back to her place a moment later. Stirring the contents with supplied spoon, she scooped up some of the stew. "I'll keep that in mind. I suppose I'll need to remind them that in her condition, she hasn't seen any of this place." Slipping the spoon between her lips, swallowing, she continued. "What do you think of her being here?"

Nicole's brows furrowed for a moment in thought before she shrugged simply. "You take in plenty. Who ever said all of our allies had to have fur?"

That brought a smile to Alvina's lips even as she turned to slip back inside. "Thank you for the dinner, Nicole." The red-haired woman nodded, slipping off after a small wave - once again leaving the woman alone to care for their guest.

--

Some while later, having curled up on the opposite side of the fire for her own rest, Alvina was awakened by the sound of movement. Propping herself up, her eyes lingered curiously on the Immortal, wondering if this would be the time she escaped her slumber for good.

The shifting paused as her eyes had fallen to her, Alvina propping her face up with one hand as she observed the woman. Almost immediately she could see where the color had returned to her cheeks. It wasn’t the same as the days previous by any means, but it was far better than the flat, white tone of paper that had stolen into her skin following the incident. Pushing herself up in a way that almost mirrored the Immortal, she better situated herself for speech. “I don’t need any more sleep. And even if you could wander, I wouldn’t recommend it. As is, we will need to blind-fold you when you leave this place.” Her tone was mixed, simultaneously coming off as a matter-of-fact, and also as a warning. With a small nod, she added, “The water is by your pillow if you want any more.”

Gathering her own cup in her hands, she briefly drew it to her lips for a sip as the question of Connor’s whereabouts came up. A small sound came from the back of her throat before she swallowed the liquid. “A sentry will go look for him again today. It was falling dark when we got you back here, and he wasn’t in the business of lighting afire to share his whereabouts.” Her lips didn’t quite twist into a smile, but her look was one of familiarity as she continued. “That sounds like him. I should’ve known he wouldn’t have asked for the escort out of the goodness of his heart.” Sometimes she might’ve thought there was some such feeling in there. At other points, he’d proven her wrong almost purposefully.

“What prompted it, if you don’t mind my asking? Or was he just being as he always is?” She’d of course seen him with women before. On one such previous occasion, he’d effectively brought one to her to care for. None had ever really been of his own kind, however.

Settling her cup back on the floorboards, a kind of somber look crossed her features. Such actions were not unheard of, and were unfortunately were on the lesser side of the cruelty which was perpetrated against her kind. “You could say we have something of a history. Personally, I find humans to be rather callouses creatures. Most are so consumed eking out their short existence that they have no vision for anything… more.” She cleared her throat. “Anyone can be that way, though. But yes, to answer your question, it’s not uncommon.”

Glimpsing the wince, she paused in any further commentary. “I have some poppy or a little whisky if the pain is too much. The latter will slow your body's healing, though.”

The wolf nodded mildly in confirmation. Grudges… Yes. That was one of the better things the Immortal was good at. The other being getting his hands bloody. And bedding those he probably shouldn’t.

With the explanation, her own look of thought crossed Alvina’s features. “Immortal royals aren’t all that different than the Clans. The bigger ones fight to take control of territories, catching the smaller groups up in their wake.” She half-shrugged. “I can’t say for certain without knowing the circumstances, but I think that whole lot festers wounds more than creating a thing worthwhile. But, I keep my clan to its own, so perhaps I’m not the best judge of such a thing.” From what she knew of Connor, however, even in his role, he didn’t seem to put much stock in it either. That begged the question of what exactly she needed, if she were tagging alongside him out in the mountains as she was. “Why did you relinquish such a thing if it’s so difficult to get back?” The question was blunt, in spite of the niceties of their previous words. Her tone was vaguely similar to the commanding tone Connor sometimes used; one which usually persuaded answers.

A wolfish smile crossed her features at the comment about their flesh prompting sickness, the look lingering enough with her next quip. She gathered herself to her feet, moving to a small corner shelf to retrieve the same bottle they’d used stock from in sterilizing the needle and thread hours before. “Those men aren’t the only ones. We deal with them all the same. I do apologize that you got caught up in the cross-fire of the business of it though.” Pouring a small amount in a small glass, she knelt to place it at her side. “I would offer more… We have moonshine elsewhere, but it’s currently being commandeered for upcoming festivities. A wedding.” Alvina spoke, rising and stepping back to again situate herself in her proper place.

Drawing her hands up together, her expression gave little away with Solara’s question. Alvina was not traditionally the most friendly, if hospitable enough. Without knowing too many details, she wasn’t inclined to overly share about their history. “Connor and I ally to one another as it suits our interests. Others might call it bribery, or blackmail, but we find a way to make it work.” A nod at the expression of gratitude – and then her posture tightening as her eyes flew to the doorway. It was almost reflexive. The predatory part of her recognized the look as something akin to a prey animal seeking escape, even if she could scarcely sit up let alone run. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed. “I was surprised the humans hadn’t eaten it. That was how we got back here. He’s been cared for; we cleaned out the wound as we could, one of ours shifting to keep him company enough." A pause. "Some of the young ones here are quite enamored by one that can’t take a human form.” Her lip twitched, amused at the chatter that had sounded in her thoughts a while before, before her features smoothed out.

“You should wait to thank me if something turns up out of this. You both seem to have gone through a lot of trouble in trying to get them back.” Her brows arched in a questioning expression. “Just how special are these animals?”

Alvina actually smiled herself in response to the look which bloomed over her features, though the skin of her left side seemed somewhat restricted from the impression of the scar crossing her face, resistant to the full movement such an expression would allow. The look seemed to fade slightly, however, replaced with one of a kind of understanding. More than once she’d been in a position to start from scratch. Whether defending an obliterated territory when she was young, or fighting off a pack which had already bled her own dry for members, it resulted the same. This Immortal woman was merely in the beginning phases working out how to persist and rebuild for herself. Connor, whether he was confounding and complicating the situation, or genuinely trying to make it better, was another matter. “I have a feeling that you will pull yourself up by the bootstraps. You don’t seem like one to worry for.” Her brow arched. “As for Connor, I can’t say I have ever seen him take such an interest in someone, but I do agree that he has a tendency to try to force his way. He’s used to having it in any case. Whether that is because he is a Commander, or a man…” She shrugged, chuckling a little.

Regarding her from her sitting position, Alvina was pleased when she seemed to relax incrementally with the information regarding her mount. Stress at a time like this would cause her to pop a stitch. “I can’t say for certain because I wasn’t the one to treat him, but I know we’ve done what we can.” Waving a hand, she absently gestured toward her leg. “The same goes for you. I stitched the wound as well as I was capable of. A proper healer wouldn’t hurt, once you make your way down from the mountain.”

Her hands reached then to adjust the wrapping of a shawl about her shoulders, shifting the fabric so that it was a little looser. The heat of the flames trapped in the environment, regardless of how ventilated it was, was enough to cause her skin to prickle with the promise of sweat. That was not something she desired with the cool weather outside. Turning her attention back to the woman before her, Alvina’s expression was of curiosity as Solara offered an explanation. Sitting back, she nodded. When her words came, they held a kind of respect and empathy reminiscent of one having experienced similar hardship. “I can appreciate your dedication to your work. My condolences for this having happened to you, and good luck in rebuilding.” A moment of pause, and she offered a small smile. “With or without the stock, you’re fortunate to have ample time to work on it.” That was the benefit of Immortality. Connor seemed insistent to waste his away, others intent to use theirs to harm, but there was a refreshing quality to this woman who seemed so far to have simple desires for herself.

With the inquiry of standing, her expression was dry. “You will tear the stitches right out of your leg if you aren’t careful.” By means of further response, she shifted to her feet, and moved to offer Solara her hands. “You might also feel a little dizzy with that whisky and the poppy we gave you for the pain. Move slowly.” Waiting for her to take the assistance, not moving away in a clear manner that said assistance would be the only way by which she would allow her to stand, Alvina lingered.

Another consideration lingered in her mind as she waited. Had Connor been around for such an event, saving her, perhaps that in some ways accounted for his dedication to the situation. And yet, she also could tell his demeanor with her was different, a contrast to handling Branwen. More attentive, thorough; more protective. It was odd. “It sounds as though he’s lingered around you for a little while now. Did you meet when the fire happened, or was it before?”

The quiet confidence was something Alvina shared, and she decided in that moment that she admired this woman for her temperament. Despite the bad hand she’d been dealt, she seemed intent to persevere. She’d have to, in any case, were she to linger with Connor. That man had a habit of ruining a great many things.

When Solara’s eyes fell away, following her comment, she paid little mind. Something had seemed tense between them, as she’d confirmed in acknowledging her fight. She had little desire to pry in on that, and in any case, it might’ve been better for the man and the woman if they did part ways. She wouldn’t push the thought… but again, she couldn’t help but dwell on Connor’s history. “I did what I could.” She responded, dismissing further discussion as well as her lingering thoughts.

Having tried to help her to her feet, Alvina had lingered patiently for both attempts. When they failed, Solara’s body obviously protesting the action, she quietly returned to her place to make herself comfortable once again by the fire. Sipping from her cup of water, her eyes lingered on the woman. “Your body might surprise you if you give it more time.” A brow rose. “You don’t tend to get injured often, do you?” A guess, as it were. Her porcelain complexion was flawless. In having been one to help clean her and dress her again, it had been noticed in passing, the sheer absence of scars or injury. It was not at all like the bodies of any of her pack members.

Nodding by means of responding, she considered Solara’s explanation. So, their introduction had come by means of him harassing her after purchasing horses? She was about to quip such a thing when the inquiry abruptly caused her eyes to narrow, her irises very nearly tinging red with the glow of her wolf moving beneath her skin. She had strong feelings directed toward the other man – none of them in the least bit romantic. It was hard to interpret her question any differently, even if she might not have intended it as such. After a brief pause of consideration, wondering if perhaps she should refrain from giving details, Alvina shook her head, the words coming with a kind of barb. “Not that sort of history.” Her voice carrying less of an edge, she continued. “The first time I met him was around a hundred and fifty, maybe a hundred and sixty years ago. He killed a friend of mine, someone that was allied in trade to my clan at the time. I wanted to retaliate, nearly did, but my mate recognized him for who he was, and we didn’t kill him for fear of bringing down the wrath of your people’s Army.” She grimaced, a look that did little to flatter her scarred features. “He was definitely not in a place befitting his position, sneaking around as he was. I kept note of that. The second time, he had a chance to kill my mate, and didn’t. I think he knew I’d report him, since by that time, I was aware of other activities outside of his role in the military.” Her face twisted then, pain crossing her features as if she’d been struck by a lance. It was an expression as reminiscent of the memory that lingered in her thoughts, causing her chest to tighten and her hands to flex painfully together. “The third time, my mate was killed. Connor lead a contingent of your army that disrupted the skirmish we were having with the humans. Had he not shown, I would’ve died too, and my pack probably would’ve been extinguished.” Face smoothing, fighting against the pain that still lingered like a hot iron especially after Warin had disappeared so recently, she continued. "He brought me the one that killed my mate, after that. The result was a debt, which we have since traded back and forth. As I said, we ally when it suits our interests, or when one of us needs something. He respects me, and I him, because we both have a healthy capability to ruin one another, or have had chance to do it."

Her eyes practically bore into Solara's then. A fight. Romantic involvement. She didn't want to press too aggressively, and yet a question lingered. Branwen had known of his ability as any Were who had touched him did. But, did this woman? Just how close was she to dying? "And how well do you know him?"