singillatim | You can run for the skyline

[James isn't sure how long it took the rumors of unnaturally large bear tracks in Lakeside to reach Milton, but as soon as he hears of them, he makes immediate plans. Logically, he knows just how unlikely it is that the creature they'd faced during the expedition, the Tuunbaq, could be here, but then again there are eight people from that time and place present here now. Is it really less likely that the reported monstrous bear tracks come from an entirely different animal?

He has to find out, or he won't stop thinking about it, and so he makes the long trip to Lakeside. He hasn't been here since just before the Forest Talker attack, as the trek is still somewhat more exhausting than he really should be partaking in, but he makes it just fine and is soon out searching for any evidence of the bear.

Being very on edge, should someone accidentally sneak up on or otherwise surprise him, they're likely to find a rifle raised in their direction. But if he notices them first, he'll get immediately to the point--]

I've heard talk of bear tracks. Have you seen them?

[ooc: anything goes!]

[Foraging is not exactly a skill or activity James had ever put much thought into before arriving here, as it had never been a particular need or priority. But here it's not only necessary in a practical sense, but an excellent way of staving off boredom, learning the land, and rebuilding some of his stamina and strength. The polar night hadn't stopped him from continuing these excursions, and on this particular day--or whatever time it is--he's been out for an hour or so looking for a new patch of rose bushes, when he hears something.

Animals are, of course, not uncommon in the area, but some are a reason for concern, and others still are a hunting opportunity. So although he doesn't know what exactly had made the sound, his reaction is the same, and he slides his rifle off his shoulder and into his hands.

His vision is almost back to normal in daylight, but not so much yet in the dark, and polar night is dark enough that it wouldn't have really mattered much if it had been. The sight he catches of movement is nothing more than a dark blur, but it's large, though not large enough to be a deer; alarmed, James raises the rife, but doesn't immediately fire. It's a wolf, it must be, but even so James has no desire to shoot the creature unless he absolutely has to, especially when he does distinctly remember that not all wolves here are exactly as they seem.]

( It's been a while since Edward let himself become the beast, as his mind insists on calling it. He's still ashamed of this form, as much as he accepts that it's a punishment for him, not a gift, the way others might perceive it.

The past months have been spent lying low, recovering, but as the days turn darker and darker, he begins to shift into this other form, no matter if it makes him uneasy. He can hunt for the household like this, and keep an eye on things — cover more ground. And as he moves through the darkness, he does begin to feel more of a freedom, his wolf's brain not as concerned with complicated emotions the way his human one is. The wolf wants to indulge in that freedom, to run and play and sense the world around it. Some lingering anxiety keeps him more careful (even as a wolf, Little is nervous...) but this is probably the most free he's ever felt in his life.

He's tracking the scent of something when another cuts through — a familiar one. He comes to a quick halt, head turned to face the man. The wolf is large and black, fur thick, even around his face — giving him a distinctly fluffy appearance. His ears lift towards James in recognition and his tail perks; there's almost something familiar and friendly about his behaviour, like a dog coming across someone it knows.

Then his human brain kicks in and he realises the weapon aimed at him. Edward quickly lowers his head, ears and tail following suit, and gives a low (and rather pathetic-sounding) whine, immediately going completely docile, even submissive. )

[He can't see in enough detail to truly recognize the initial body language of lifted ears and tail, but the whine and immediate lowering of posture are far more clear. He mirrors the motions, in a way, lowering his rifle and ducking his head slightly, as if doing so and squinting will actually help. It doesn't, but that's fine.]

Are you not wild?

[He ventures the question as if he expects the wolf to answer him, and to be fair, it could possibly. But in addition to being potentially a person, it could well be someone's pet, or simply a particularly tame wolf; that it has neither attacked nor simply run away makes him think it can't be wild, at least.]

( It takes him a moment to realise that the other man's struggling to make sense of him, to even see him. Seeing in this darkness is so effortless to him in this form, and it's a strange realisation to return to: a human man wouldn't be able to. And he's a human man too, up under this. It's always jarring for Edward to realise he's slipped more into animal's mindset.

When Fitzjames lowers the rifle and speaks to him, Edward gives another whine-sound and creeps forwards a little, slowly, hoping to convey that he isn't wild, that he means no harm. Of course, there's something that feels like shame starting to come creeping into him too, an unpleasant shock to have come across Fitzjames out here, of all people. To be seen like this....!

But it's just as important that he make sure the commander knows he's not a threat, to reply to that question with the right answer — no, he's not wild, he's safe — and so he keeps moving closer to him, stopping only a few safe feet away, not wanting to risk frightening him. Hopefully it might make him more visible in this darkness, a pair of golden-brown eyes peering up at the tall figure, ears kept pressed down and tail hanging, hesitant, cautious. ....Whining again. )

[The cautious little creep, the whining, the lack of both aggression and the sort of fear one would expect from a wild wolf do indeed effectively convince James that this wolf is either tame, or a person.

The latter possibility should be one that concerns him. James is more than smart enough to learn from his mistakes, and after the... incident... during the meeting of those from the Expedition, he should be cautious about the very real potential of this actually being a human. But it could also just be a wolf, and James is very much one of those people whose sense is immediately discarded when faced with a potentially friendly animal, even one that could turn dangerous at any time.

Not that he's particularly concerned about the latter possibility, though; it's pretty clear, at this point, that the creature--whether human or truly a wolf--doesn't mean any harm. So James' previous alarm and nerves are fading quickly, particularly now that he can see the wolf's face and eyes, and he suddenly realized he might be frightening it as much as it had frightened him.

So he crouches down, the motion still a little stiffer than it should be but not tentative, and he sets the rifle in the snow before slowly extending a cautious hand toward the wolf.]

I have nothing to offer you.

[In terms of food or anything of the sort, he means, though really he's talking just to talk, the words mostly unimportant and simply an attempt to reassure both the wolf and himself.]

( The wolf stays cautious, whether because it's nervous or to try and quell any nerves the man might have — it could be either way (and, considering it's Little... is probably both). But as James moves downwards, slowly reaching out a hand, the wolf lifts his head higher, nose quivering in the chilled, dark air, sniffing.

(Later, he'll feel embarrassed about this.)

But as it is now, Edward's human and wolf brain keep slipping into one another, not so much battling as they are simply co-existing. He knows Fitzjames, and wants to be friendly towards him. ...This translates, in wolf-thought, as giving the man's hand a soft, gentle lick.

When that's done, he's peering up at him almost worriedly, fixing the man with a pointed - and mournful - stare. Why is Commander Fitzjames out here alone...? Certainly, he's a capable man, one of the most capable, in Little's opinion, but this place is dark and dangerous. He's finding himself glad that he came across him, and filled with the need to stay with him, protect him. ...Of course, at some point he'll have to reveal who he is, which should probably happen sooner rather than later.

It's a good thing he's taken a page out of some of the others' books, and started keeping his clothing stored safely nearby whenever he turns. )

[Professor Snape is leveling a hunting rifle at him, and Tim should feel more than his bored annoyance. The still day-night air does more to coax his skin to goosebumps under his coats than does the fact that he, finally, again, has a gun pointing to the vicinity of his face.

There's a concept of a probability taking root in his mind and it spurs a bitter frown on Tim; he remembers Little in the kitchen, disappearing only to later find him with the rifle on his back- another decoration for the wool coat of the navy officer and nothing else. Because Tim hadn't let that become anything else.

Tim's eyes can make out the loud differences in the picture before him now, and back then. But it feels the damn same.]

You've also never shot that thing before?

[You don't point a gun at anything you don't want destroyed-

Tim sucks in a breath, though his lungs are ice.

It has nothing to do with the man ahead.]

I'm a hundred pounds soaking wet. Save your shot for bigger game.

[Truth is, Tim could stand to pack on some weight.

Truth is, he's sure it could've been unnerving to not hear a Bat in the snow.

Bigger truth is,] I don't know if you know this. But there's a Bear out here.

[James had been expecting the wolf to maybe move a little closer toward him at the outstretched hand, with the intention being both to make friends and to get a change to pet those super fluffy-looking ears, so the lick is a small--but not bad--surprise. He blinks, then gives a small laugh followed by a slightly stronger one at that look he's been fixed with.]

I'm sorry. Perhaps next time I'll bring with me something suitable for any friendly wolves I may encounter.

[He's of course reading the look as dismay at no treats, even though if this really is a wolf it's not like it could actually understand him. He picks up his rifle slowly, so as not to scare the wolf, and slings it back over his shoulder before rising to his feet and then realizing something.]

Are you alone?

[It's an unknowing echo of Edward's own thoughts, and James glances briefly around; shouldn't a wolf be with a pack? Why is it all alone? Is it alone?]

[That's a lot of talking coming from what had initially, to James, just been an ominous shape that moved across his peripheral vision. At least Tim makes it very obvious immediately that he's human--or something close to it, anyway--rather than, say, a bear, but that it in itself isn't entirely reassuring.

After all, James' first month here had featured an attack from the Forest Talkers, and although things have been quiet since then and assurances have been made that they're no longer a danger, James is not so sure of how true it is.

But he's not going to shoot anyone unless they're very clearly a threat, and he lowers the rifle to point at the ground once he's certain this person is indeed just talking. He presumes, at least for the moment, that the amount of chatter is from understandable nerves due to having a gun pointed at him, and so James refrains from making any of the more flippant comments that come to mind.

Or at least he doesn't make them with the tone to go with them. Instead his response is measured and matter-of-fact, if slightly dry.]

I've heard talk of the bear. That's why I'm here.

[And why he's carrying the rifle. Or part of the reason, anyway.

And speaking of the rifle, he didn't miss that first comment, and it's too strange to let pass by without comment.]

Do I give the impression that I've never fired a rifle?

[Because he certainly has, and even this specific rifle, as different as it is from the ones he's used to. But it is entirely possible there's something that prompted Tim's comment, and if so, he's curious; if not, he's even more so.]

Edited 2024-12-27 23:17 (UTC)

[Jon is not tracking a bear, because a bear is not a thing that a man ought to be tracking alone, not even a man with a direwolf for a companion. A deer or elk is about the largest think he'll take alone; a boar is an exception, in that it is of comparable size but greater danger.

The thing being pointed at him -- since he came to Milton, and particularly as a result of that terrible night, he has been given to understand that it's a kind of crossbow, something that sends off arrowheads without shafts. He doesn't like it being pointed at him.]

It's only me, only Jon Snow. Don't shoot me with that thing. [It gets a distinct look of suspicion.]

Are you looking for bear tracks? I can aid you. You shouldn't look alone.

[A lot of talking is the first rule of Fight Club, and Tim won't hear anything remotely resembling criticism of this great and new fun fact. He grunts, readjusts the fur of the collar of his jacket and takes the moment to collapse his fighting staff. A trekking pole, for anyone who would ever bother to ask.

But anyway, Tim's been doing too much doing and not enough talking.

(It's so backwards to who he oughta be that he forgets, still.)]

If you continue this way, you'll find the tracks from this morning. If nothing's disturbed them.

[Covered them, tampered with them. Disturbing thoughts on their own but with the fresh knowledge of Others actively sabotaging their survival, Tim's found a good enough reason to give his tracking skills a go.

Again.

He breaks the bubble of two strangers, ducks his head against the cold and steps towards Severus Snape with all the familiarity they do not have.]

Come on. No tracking collar this time but maybe it'll go better than with the Cats anyway. I'm Al. Short for Cal. Short for Callum.

[James lowers the weapon as soon as he realizes it's a person, and one that's vaguely familiar as well, so not likely any sort of threat. Hopefully, anyway.]

I won't.

[He makes he assurance easily enough, as he does mean it, with of course the caveat of defending himself if necessary. But he's also been held at gunpoint often enough to empathize with how unpleasant it is, and doesn't intend to cause any more distress than necessary.

But as for the issue of the bear--]

I am looking for the tracks, but only the tracks.

[He is not hunting a bear. Officially. For the most part. Maybe he'd like to possibly get close enough to see the thing, to reassure himself that it is indeed just a bear, if a particularly large one; maybe he wants to know what they might all be dealing with. But, technically, he doesn't intend to hunt the bear, and so he doesn't need help.

But, that established, company might not be a terrible thing.]

Are you looking for them as well?

( Hearing Fitzjames laugh — a growing thing from slight to a little more robust — at something Edward's done stirs an immediate and particular warmth in him, and after a moment his ears do perk up again.

The gesture's brief but there, almost involuntary. It's some flicker of something that almost feels like pride in himself, even if these days Edward's only really capable of the shadow of that feeling. Still... it emboldens him, a little. He lifts his head more now, not so weighty and mournful, and then—

—he nods it in response to that question. It's a purposeful gesture down and then back up. Communicating is strange like this, but he's found ways, even if he knows they'll immediately peg him as something that isn't quite a true wolf. And while he certainly doesn't go out of his way to inform people about his.... beastly condition, now that Firzjames has seen it directly, Little won't hide it from him. Like Crozier, the man still demands a certain respect from Little, who continues to hold onto that concept, of respect and hierarchy, he can't let it go — and lying to the commander is unthinkable.

In fact, he then paws lightly at the ground near Fitzjames's boots, backs up slightly, then repeats the gesture. He even turns his head to glance back at the woods, as though trying to tell him to come with him, to follow. )

No. I'd leave a bear well alone on an ordinary day. Why are you looking for it?

[He's clad in a big velvet cloak with a big furred collar, furred trim; he had come into town in it, and it's the warmest thing he has here. A little too regal for where they are, but suited for the cold and the dark.]

I was on my way to check some traps. But I've hunted and tracked enough in my time.

Edited 2024-12-29 21:11 (UTC)

[ It's likely that James runs into Bigby rather than the other way around - especially since Bigby already seems to be on the outskirts of Lakeside, looking around like he's trying to keep an eye out for something.

Usually he wouldn't be here either, but it seems that the thing that has brought him here is the same thing as what has brought the other here. He turns his head to actually look over at James, one curious eyebrow raised. ]

Sure have.

[ And considering the way Bigby traveled here - as a wolf - it was much easier for him to find the tracks than your average human. It's why he turns a little bit, stepping out of the way to reveal the fact that there are some of said tracks behind him. It's why he must have been standing there, looking at them. ]

Why, are you looking for that bear?

There are several people from my time and place present here. And, in the time and place we came from, there was an unnaturally large bear.

[And hence needing to figure out if it's the same bear or not. Surely that sounds reasonable and not crazy, or at least hopefully it does.]

[He gives Fitzjames a long look. Unnaturally large is one thing, but from what he knows of bears, they can be persistent trouble in other ways.]

Unnaturally large... and unnaturally smart? Or just smart like a bear, always getting into things.

My friend Tormund has some tales he used to tell of bears.

[The way Fitzjames was brandishing that weapon, it doesn't sound like Tormund's sort of bear.]

The news of the bear tracks has also brought Goodsir to Lakeside, and one day Fitzjames may find him taking measurements and writing down notes, a frown of concentration on his face.

[ At about 4 in the morning, there is a large thump directly at Fitzjames' bedroom window. After a few seconds of silence, there's another one. A third, or fourth--however long it takes.

Tom Zane is currently throwing snowballs directly at the glass pane instead of knocking. ]

James is not entirely surprised to see Goodsir, as of course the tracks would be of interest, though he's certainly a little concerned that he's out here alone. And he also doesn't want to startle him, considering the look of concentration and that he's likely on edge, so James makes his footsteps heavier as he approaches, hoping the crunch of snow will give a little bit of warning before he finally speaks up. "Doctor Goodsir?"

[With the endless night time doesn't really mean a whole lot, though it does still get slightly colder in the absolute dead of night. So James is actually at home at 4am, and actually sleeping, though that certainly doesn't last through the sound of an impact on his window.

Jolted awake in confusion, he ungracefully grabs the rifle leaned up against the wall near the bed, and then freezes in place to listen. Another thump turns his attention toward the window, and then another follows it, and he realizes with a rush of both relief and annoyance that it's just snow hitting the window. It's just someone throwing snowballs.

...Why in god's name is someone throwing snowballs at his window?

He doesn't, of course, go to the window. Instead he leaves the rifle where it is and slinks around out of sight to exit the bedroom, quickly pulling on his boots, hat, and coat, and then heads out the front door as quietly as possible.

Circling around the cabin and finally catching sight of the person responsible, he probably should've guessed.]

I wondered if you might have disappeared.

[...Did the wolf just nod at him?

Of course it did, because it's not a wolf, and despite knowing this was a possibility he can't help but be both a little disappointed on top of nervous. Someday he'll get to meet a friendly, actual wolf. Live out his horse-girl dreams, but with wolves.

But today is not that day, and he needs to figure out what to do about whoever this is.

It's not Hickey, obviously, but he's not sure of anyone else who has this ability, so it could be literally anyone. And it's clear enough the wolf--person--wants him to follow them, but to where? Somewhere even more remote than they already are, out in the middle of the woods? For what reason? How foolish would it be to follow them?

James doesn't really have any enemies here--other than Hickey, anyway, though enemies might still be too strong of a word there--and he does know several somewhat bizarre people, so this sort of weirdness is probably not anything to really be too worried about. Besides, they're far enough out that there's no need to lure him somewhere else if this person means any harm, so perhaps there's some other reason they want him to follow them and curiosity is quickly outweighing his trepidation.

So, after a brief moment of contemplation--]

You wish for me to follow you? Lead on, then.

[Although willing to believe that Tim is simply another Interloper, and likely not a threat--at the moment, anyway--that he needs to be too concerned about, beyond that James is having some trouble reading the situation. More talking, with first useful information and then something completely unintelligible about cats, then overexplaining his name. All with an approach, with although nonthreatening, does bring him closer and when paired with what could be purposeful distraction, doesn't help calm James' nerves.

So he doesn't lift the rifle again, but he also doesn't make any move to put it away either.]

Al, then? James.

[He considers, for a brief moment, being equally overexplanatory about his own name, which does lend itself very well to such things. But although that's something he might've considered in a conversation where he were more at ease, this isn't the time for that.]

Have you seen the bear itself?

[If he apparently saw tracks in this direction, it seems worth asking. And he hasn't missed that Tim didn't answer his earlier question, though James isn't entirely sure if it was intentional avoidance or not, so he's letting it go for the moment.]

You can run for the skyline

Bear Tracks [Open]

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cw brief weight mention, firearms talk ofc

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Re: Bear Tracks [Open]

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