Ruzul
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It was probably because he was distracted that he completely failed to notice the approach of a lion with a dawn-colored coat making his way through the darkening wood until the outlander was almost upon him.
Valo
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He had not realized that he’d been missing that subconscious, subliminal sound until he heard it once more only a few hours after he first scented the salt in the air this morning. It had been the salty scent which had initially pushed him to drive himself, but the rhythm of the water hummed through his bones and seemed to invigorate him with every step closer to his home. And now, here he was!
Ruzul
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“Hei!” he called, his self-directed irritation putting a snarl into his voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Valo
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Then he drew up short, realizing what was going on here. The black lion was a reaver on patrol, didn't recognize him, and most likely thought he was an outlander trying to get into the pride. The very idea made Valo laugh unself-consciously. He wasn't self-conscious about very many things, really.
"I really do live here," he said, though as he listened to himself speak and compared his words with those of the green-eyed lion snarling at him, he realized that he had lost the growling accent which was one of the hallmarks of a Stormborn upbringing.
"I was born here," he insisted.
Ruzul
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"I don't believe you," he told him bluntly.
Then, recalling that the longer this took, the longer it would be until he found out what Fjaril's surprise was, he said, "Although if you're really a member of this pride, you'll be able to tell me its name, and what you're going to have to do to get any farther into our lands, assuming you can't convince me that you're actually a member of this pride."
Valo
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Then, to make sure he had really driven the point home, Valo continued, still speaking the pride's hereditary language, "We are descended from the gods of the storm and sea, and call them the Stormlords. Many of us swear by the Stormlords' balls when the occasion arises. We're led by a warlord who is supported by a high priestess and the first speaker. Everyone in the pride is a warrior, to some extent, but those who leave the pride to win glory and goods are called reavers."
Here he paused for breath, and then asked, "Shall I go on, or have I given god enough credentials for you, reaver?"
Ruzul
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It took Ruzul until he heard the other lion speak the word Stormborn in the common tongue to realize that he'd been speaking Old Myrsky before. Since Ruzul understood both, it was an easy mistake to make, but it would be very hard to deny that a lion who could speak Old Myrsky was anything but a member of the pride, no matter how little he sounded like he was.
"I'm sure you know the answer, though, given the rest of what you were able to tell me. The thing is, you've proven you spent some time in the pride. I'll even grant that you were a member, but how do I know you're actually a freeborn? I've never seen you before in my life. For all I know, you could be a thrall who's decided to see if he can change his fate by tricking a stranger at the border." It was unlikely, but the sun hadn't set yet and Ruzul had some time to kill.
Valo
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"My name is Valo, and if it means so much to you," he growled, "I'm just as happy to give you a hiding and call it an askorun. Would that satisfy you?"
If he wasn't so eager to get home, he might actually have been amused by the black reaver's cleverness. Right now, though, he wanted to stand on the cliffs and feel the salty spray dampen his fur. He didn't want to stand here and prove his identity to the satisfaction of some arrogant p***k.
He stared at the green-eyed lion, who stared at him in turn, continuing to look unimpressed. If he didn't relent, Valo might try to pop those infuriating green eyes right out of his skull.
Ruzul
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"Some other time," he said with a toothy smile, "I'll meet you on the sands."
Ruzul felt just perverse enough in that moment that he refused to actually speak any sort of official words of welcome or recognition. He'd agreed to meet Valo on the sands some other time. Surely the lighter lion would understand and accept that meant he was being given a pass. At any rate, Ruzul was done with him. The sun had set. His shift was over.
"Don't die in bed."
Valo
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Since he had been left to make his own way back to the pride, Valo did so at a speed that could almost be called a gallop, right up until he reached the stronghold, at which point it would have been impractical for him to move that quickly. He still moved with haste toward the highest of the pride's cliffs which still felt spray from the waves below.
Standing on the cliff, looking down into the tumultuous sea and breathing the chill, salty air was almost like being drunk. Anyone looking at him, grinning into the night sky like a fool, would probably think he was. But Valo didn't care. He was home.