Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Their way - Firen and Crevan’s way - is more ancient than any land in Beqanna. It seeps past the common trivial lives of horses, who live in a prey state of mind and seek each other out for comfort, holding onto their powers and magic when the night grows dark. But he and Firen are more than horse, they’re kin. Wolf kin. And somehow it never fails that Crevan will eventually cross paths with another shifter no matter where he goes. Like magnets, like moons to planets, those of similar skins are drawn to one another out of a necessity. An understanding.
He’d felt that way with Merida, with his mother. In fact watching the younger pup go belly-flat reminds him of his early days and though Crevan snarls without sound, it’s a forgiving action. His tongue slides past teeth and licks pink gums, rolling over the barely discernible glint of silver that runs through the bone. This is how they do things; order is established because it’s necessary. There can only be one Alpha at a time because nature demands it and Firen, well… he’s too young to run at the head of the pack.
They’re on the verge of coming to this understanding without the need for speaking it over when Jesper arrives. The tan wolf’s nape is slowly settling back down across his shoulders, his lips have lowered and he’s poised to take an inquisitive step nearer to the newcomer when the heavy crunch of snow being broken underhoof turns their heads nearly in unison.
Silently, the two watch him. One more closely than the other. Crevan’s thoughts in this body are typically streamlined and they latch onto the fact that the black stallion who looms over them isn’t phased in the least at the sight of two predators roaming his frigid beach. In fact he speaks outright to them both, fully aware that they could interpret and understand the language of Beqanna. For Crevan, this is a glaring sign that either Jesper is extremely familiar with shapeshifters or perhaps one himself. But not a wolf. No.
Firen confirms it, catching the back twitch of Crevan’s pointed ears when he murmurs that the horse sees them both as a threat - despite the way Jesper’s face appears calm and mildly amused.
In the second of time it takes for him to twist around so that Firen is at his side and Jesper is fully facing him, the nomadic immortal briefly considers putting on his horse skin to look the Icicle Isle keeper dead in the eye. But the presence of a youngling stops him. He’s overly large for a wolf anyways, and the palpable strain of this experience on the fire-striped boy is enough to keep Crevan as he is, simply to comfort him.
“As he should.” The navy-eyed shifter replies to the pup first. “But we’re not here to threaten, are we?” He smirks rhetorically.
“I’m Crevan. My packmate Sabrina and I are interested in making this Isle our den home.” The wolf explains, inhaling deeply before tucking his hind legs underneath him to sit. “We thought this place was barren, not that it matters. The boy-” he peers back at Firen, “-and I were just getting acquainted ourselves.”
@[Firen] @[Jesper]