She had heard him, though had not called back to him. Ikkalrok was close, now—and she bridged the gap between them, though did not hide her approach from him. No doubt he knew her lumber as she knew his; strangers might think them bear cubs, from their prowling gait. They were no less dangerous, and best avoided. Her ferocity was rivaled only by the tireless motherbear, who would stop at nothing to protect.
Ikkalrok paused at the entrance of the cave, considering as she gazed at his hindquarters. They had trained in situations such as this. What were they to do, if they were cornered and alone, with nowhere else to go, and the enemy came upon them (and they had fit within the cave)? When by ones lonesome, it was found that the desire to kill might have petered with the more prevalent desire to survive. But one must always expect the enemy to have been trained as they were; to kill was to ensure their survival, brutal as it was, because even to let one live was to bring about the chance for eventual retaliation. Ikkalrok had seen it, heard of it. Many had faced it. Some had died.
Those that had ever been soft, or thought themselves so, became hard; Tartok was like the kînaut that brought forth from their rounded foundations the sharp kinark they might possess. Not all among them were born stalwart and cold; but they became. All among them, who bore the name, became. Their bond grew stronger for it; together, united, and knowing, they would survive.
She wondered if he could hear outside as well as he could within, what with the drumming waters she could hear here that was surely louder thanks to the acoustics the cavern might bring. With this thought in mind, Ikkalrok moved to incapacitate him as she lurched for a vulnerable hind leg, always one to test her theories rather than stand in inaction.
His shifting prevented her attack to play out as she had intended. The woman had no desire to make him bleed—it was not their way, it was against their laws—but his reaction caused fangs meant to only grip to bear down a measure more (not enough to cause true harm, or sprain or break) to the point where she suddenly could taste the fluid. Once this transpired, Ikkalrok released as he reacted; she knew the drive in his movements, and knew she would have to engage him, titan against titan, until he came to.
Fortunately for her, she had been in the better position to start with—but he was a wolf against a wall, who truly believed his life to be at risk. Still, as he wildly came for her, Ikkalrok was solid as she opened her jowls and lunged toward him, engaging him as he engaged her; her jaws deflected any blow that might come to her face, though the tip of them, initially, swept over her nose enough to draw blood. They collided against one another, neither one moving far in the process, and had he not sought to back away Ikkalrok simply would have sought to reacquaint him to herself with a rousing bite to his shoulder (to grip and pinch and shove, not to tear or rend). But he had, and he withdrew, and Ikkalrok was on all fours again, growling in a manner that indicated she was pleased by the turn of events, pleased by the way that he had done as he had been trained time in and time out.
None but those of their name could have survived that, and perhaps none but she could have suffered so little from the reactive display he had been brought to. She licked her jowls, tongue rolling over her nose so as to taste the blood, but there was no anger there; she had bled him, and though it had been unintentional it had still occurred. And so there was no rebuke, or anger, only the proud sweep over her plume over her hindquarters.
As he came for her again, the prelude to such an incident the flash of his eyes, Ikkalrok lurched forward, adjusting her course so that her shoulder might slam against his chest while her fangs made to hold the apex of his nearest shoulder. It would be pointless to push back against a weight as good as equal to her own, but should his forelegs land after her own she might unbalance him and make quick work of this. The reaction was effortless but perhaps lazy; there was hope that she might not succeed, that they draw this out.
I did 1d10 in DISCOOOO for defense and blessedly got a 10. praise yeezus, was about 2 give her her first scar if I was UNLUCKY
The breath left her as they collided, though she felt the mass of him give—her timing had been impeccable, and such had become her odds as he collected himself. The woman gathered the breath that had been expelled upon their abrupt contact and as he withdrew she continued her approach, moving with the momentum success had granted her; Ikkalrok moved to bear down upon him as he attempted to recover, a grizzly roar and spittle released from her fanged mouth—however, she abruptly adjusts her course and causes the dirt around them to fly upward, and the dust to create a cloud around her ankles.
Ikkalrok's lobes twitch, her gaze not leaving him as her tail waves over her hindquarters. Were they training, she would not have ceased in her onslaught. As it was, they were not, and they had more ground to cover—and so, wordlessly, she turns away, one ear cupped back so as to hear him follow, if he elected to, or remain to investigate this place further.
Ikkalrok felt him come to join her, and her tail swayed evenly behind her hips. It was good he had come here with her; he was a strong, capable male, a good subordinate when needed, though only to those that deserved to make a demand of him. It was for good, ample reason that Ikkalrok had ever arrived to such a point; she had proven, time and time again, she was inexhaustible in abiding by her indomitable instinct. It reared its head now more than ever; the past season had seen to it that Ikkalrok felt some shade of desire for her own future through the continuation of her bloodline. She had left herself ample time to cater to this desire: complete her mission, find a base of her own—one that Anuniaq knew the location of, had been born upon. She would see that place; she would have it.
These thoughts idled in her mind. What drove her was her surroundings. No other of their ilk had crossed this territory, but Ikkalrok scented many a wolf that had passed through. She glanced to her companion to see if he detected any scent of note; a wolf that had abandoned, a wolf that had needed to be found.
Ikkalrok slowed when she no longer heard his step behind her. Her mighty head turned to peer behind him, ear twitching—had he found something else? But moments ago, he had not—what had changed? Shaking out her furs, Ikkalrok made to meet him once more until she caught his pointed look.
A deep scowl settled on her features. They could not stop and make claim to any place until their duty was finished. Besides that, for all the bounty this place offered, it seemed to harbor far more water than it did stone. Were the water to belong to the sea, she might be inclined to think of returning here... but the still water would only serve to train the future cubs, not those that had already held the trade and worked to master it.
They had more to do. Even Ikkalrok, who desired a distant landscape, would not settle until their work was finished. Winter was some time away, and with the number they did have, they could afford such a life for a time. Her plume flicked, her expression shifting to indifference. Her stormy gazed offered her thoughts: it was not yet time for that.