Ruzul
The sun was about to set on the home of the Stormborn, and the reaver Ruzul was eager for it hurry up and do so. Sunset would mean that his shift guarding a portion of the pride’s forested border was over and he could return to the stronghold and to Fjäril’s warm welcome. When last they spoke, the pretty lioness had implied that she had something special planned to celebrate his own plans to achieve captaincy by challenging his friend Kekäle during the upcoming breytast vindar. Ruzul couldn’t wait to find out what it was, although his mind was working hard to come up with possibilities, most of which were on the sexy end of things.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
Valo yawned as he made his way through the dense and darkening foliage growing thick at the western border of his home pride. He had been walking for most of the day, pushing himself at a more than brisk pace to reach the stronghold by nightfall so that he could fall sleep with the sound of the ocean pounding beneath his consciousness.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
Ruzul’s mood went from mild irritation at the slow progress of the sun toward the horizon to outright annoyance at his own inattentiveness. As far as he knew, nobody had ever managed to sneak into the pride from beyond its borders, although he knew his mother and much of her family had hidden within these very woods for some time under the previous warlord, and had no wish to be the first reaver to allow such an event to occur. The fact that it would probably force his father to exile him from the pride for being such a wretched failure of a guard made it even worse. Fortunately, he’d noticed the outlander in time to stop him before he made any more progress.“Hei!” he called, his self-directed irritation putting a snarl into his voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Valo
"Home!" Valo exclaimed, indifferent to the growl in the black lion's voice and to how childishly eager he probably sounded. He was going home, and for him that was cause for celebration.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
Ruzul gave the light-coated lion a stare that said quite clearly he wasn't buying the story he was selling. True, the lion was about as large and thick-furred as one would expect a native of the pride to be, but Ruzul had heard of other prides with cold climates that produced similar traits in the lions that lived there. He had never met one of those lions though, nor been to one of those prides, but that had little bearing on his present situation. He didn't think the light lion was from one of them, he just didn't really believe he was from this pride either."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
Valo grinned widely and almost before the black lion had finished demanding proof of his belonging, he was answering in Old Myrsky, "We're called the Stormborn by outlanders, which is a translation of our true name, Myrsky Syntynyt."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
"You didn't tell me how an outlander would be allowed into the pride," he pointed out, although without any intent to force the issue.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
Valo had been all set to be welcomed to the pride, confident that his display of Old Myrsky and pridal knowledge would gain him entry. The fact that what he had told the black reaver was mostly common knowledge, and anyone who had lived in the pride for a decent length of time might be able to repeat this knowledge in Old Myrsky had not occurred to him."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
Ruzul watched a change come over the lighter lion and recognized that he had pushed him nearly to the point of violence. If it came to it, Ruzul would fight him, but he'd learned enough. At this point, no one would fault him for letting the other lion in. He had demonstrated a familiarity with the pride that no outlander could reasonably possess, and certainly other lions had been allowed in with a good deal less proof, just a nebulous claim of family to later be verified."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
It took Valo a moment to put two and two together and realize that the combination of an invitation to fight at a later date and the sight of the black lion's departing figure added up to the fact that he could go home. When it sank in, Valo let out a triumphant "Hah!"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.