Spotted Eagle Mountain What you know about rocking a wolf on your noggin?

From the thorny orchard, Wylla travelled north. Whether because it reeked like swamp and butthole or because she had heeded at least some of what Elwood graciously told her, she avoided the sprawling forest in the middle of the lowlands and headed for the mountains instead. The rolling foothills were horrible enough to travel on for a wolf raised on the coast, but the mountain proved another task altogether. It was only the smell of something questionable that kept her moving upward. By the time she located the dead mule deer—an obvious victim of a mountainous misstep and heavily picked over by scavengers—lungs and muscles alike were screaming for rest.

The vagabond collapsed on the carcass, sending a flock of crows clawing for the sky, and immediately plunged her face into its dried out abdominal cavity. There wasn't anything left that wasn't frozen, shriveled and tough as jerky, but she chewed on old gristle and cracked bone alike, sucking as much nutrition from the gross old corpse as she could. Normally, such a royal personality as herself would never sink to such levels, but Wylla was a wolf before she was a priss, and anyway, she was starving. She smacked her lips greedily and tore at the frugal carcass, making no effort to mask her presence.

The mountain had her all turned around and it was beyond frustrating, because out of all the things that Rheia was comfortable with, mountains were on the top of that imaginary list. This particular mountain was unique only because it was new and she didn't know all the criss-crossing paths yet. She was in high spirits despite her circumstances; it was not often that the vagabond encountered strangers and it was even more rare to find someone as fascinated by mother moon in the way that she was; thus the encounter with Phocion had left her feeling content.

All the same, the travel from that plateau back over the range would take some time. The paths she had taken were obscured by fresh snow and there was more coming, so she would have to move fast and be certain in every action. Rheia was quite perplexed when she came upon a worn path through the snow - and after some hesitation where her hope overwhelmed her senses ("Sif?" she thought), Rheia chose to follow it.

Soon the scent of decay caught in her nose. It was not the usual inviting scent she was used to - this one was cold, hard, and much weaker by comparison. It occurred to her in that split second that the snow might have been screwing with her sense of smell too, and that thought was disheartening. She did not have time to marinate in that feeling long before a ruckus in the sky redirected her attention and a darkness flit overhead; it was a loud darkness indeed, but gave Rheia a clue as to where to look next.

She came slinking through the snowcapped forest half expecting to see Sif, but was met with a vision of someone far younger and more ragged. They were almost as dark as the crows in flight - or a magpie, with those pale dusted hairs across their back. So far everyone Rheia had encountered had seemed nice, and so she tried her luck here (perhaps by mistake) and called out, Hallo?

As it turned out, Wylla wasn't great at multitasking. She was so focused on scarfing down tough old scraps of meat from the deer that she didn't hear the subtle brush of paw pads over the ground or the click of a nail on exposed stone. She was blind to Rheia's presence entirely until the other female spoke, which sent the lone wolf's back up like a cat's. She awkwardly turned while remaining half-hunched over the carcass and ultimately stuck Rheia with a sharp stare that said back your truck up this shit's MINE, all while sucking another scrap of flesh into her mouth.

Yeah, it really was shit, wasn't it? It even tasted like dust, it was so old, but she was too hungry to be a diva about that.

"What do you want?" the loner wondered through another mouthful of gross, chewing obnoxiously while attempting to fit her small body over the entirety of the deer's. Rheia certainly didn't seem like the type of wolf to dart in and steal some meat—and honestly Wylla, was it such a big deal if she did that?—but she wasn't playing any games. Having been turned away from the Caldera pack and having no idea where she might find the next one, she had to shovel every last bit of food into her maw, even if it meant being a total jerk to someone else. She was impish, sure, and not exactly honest, but she didn't always want to be a rude wolf. Heck, she even felt bad about it sometimes. But maybe not this time.

If you were to take Rheia and morph her in to a human being, she'd probably be some sort of shy tomboy who liked to play alone in the sandbox; the look that Wylla tossed her indicated a similar nature, but she seemed more volatile. Maybe she would have been the playground bully? She reacted to that look in the same manner as an introverted child might have - pausing her gait and bristling a little, her expression tensing in a way that could've read, what did I do?

It was obvious that the stranger was covetous of her meal and Rheia, feeling a little bit frustrated by her inability to navigate the wintery mountain, wondered if she should make a pit-stop and try her luck to get a piece. She inadvertently sized her up as she began to walk again, this time slow and steady and all too cautious, but Rheia made it only a few steps before deciding it wasn't worth the ire of the other wolf. It was clear they weren't eager to share and with a better look at the dead thing Rheia concluded, it barely looked appetizing at all. Best to leave the girl with her leather, then.

N.. nothing.. she murmured after glancing at the corpse. Whether it was an answer to the question or an observation (because the creature had become so dessicated that Rheia couldn't identify it at all) was a mystery. She held out hope that this hungry loner could be another friend despite the evidence to the contrary, and added, You -- you home? This is home? It had worked with Sif, so maybe it would work here too.

Wylla sniffed, clutching what amounted to a pile of month-old jerky possessively to her chest and waiting for Rheia to inevitably swoop in on it. Her hackles even shuffled along her spine when the mottled wolf's gaze dipped downward, but then a question came rather than an attack and she pinned back her ears, suddenly unsure.

"What, right here?" she asked, glancing down the forested slope. It wouldn't be a bad home, but it lacked the efforts of others. Wylla had the natural hardwired desire for company even if she bounced between acting wretched toward and taking advantage of most others she came across, but more than anything, she just wanted to get away with doing as little as possible. That wasn't an option as a lone wolf. It was hardly an option as a pack wolf, but she wasn't one to let that stop her from trying. As such, Wylla only considered a place with wolves she could convince to do the work for her to be home.

"No," she answered at length. "Is it yours or something?" Not that she would share her disgusting rawhide meal anyway, even if Rheia revealed she was the alpha of the entire mountain or something.

No, not -- no, she answered swiftly and with a shake of her head before feeling quite awkward. It wasn't common for the girl to feel so out-of-place around other females but this situation seems tense and she isn't sure what to do about it. The stranger doesn't appear as friendly as Sif, and maybe that was because of the food present so Rheia puts some more space between herself and the dead thing.

She looked at the surroundings as if they held more interest than anything else, but really Rheia just didn't want to look at the strange contorted body any more than she wanted to stare at or weird out the dark girl. She pawed at a stone while trying to think of something clever to say, but found that this whole "talking to people" thing was more of a struggle than anticipated. I um, live with sister on mountain -- other one. Was it worth it to bring up Sif and her new sisters? Would this girl be interested in being a part of that, or was Rheia trying too hard? She didn't know how else to continue the conversation so she fell quiet and kicked that rock around a little more, watching it roll and catch against nearby debris.

Wylla pursed her lips as Rheia fidgeted, then leaned back down to tear another morsel of leather off the carcass. Her stomach was nowhere near full, but the sheer toughness of it was fatiguing her jaws enough that she was soon going to give up. Besides, the other wolf's presence wasn't ideal and the vagabond convinced herself that if she just left the old corpse behind, then Rheia would go away too.

She'd almost forgotten the other wolf was still there when Rheia suddenly piped up, sharing interesting information about a sister and a mountain. From her vantage, she couldn't see said other mountain, but she flung her pitch ears back dramatically nonetheless and hissed a quiet, "ooooh, ah, yeaaaah." Squinting lightly, the small loner rose from her perch on the decayed deer and stepped down to the ground, swinging her tail nervously. "Yeah, um... that mountain's my home, actually. I'm going home after an adventure, so. You can't just live there." Sorry, her coy expression seemed to say.

But after a very deliberate moment of consideration, Wylla narrowly met Rheia's eyes and said, "well, actually, I guess I could let you live there, if you and your sister make me your queen, that is. Y'know, since I lived there first."

As trusting as Rheia was she could only translate so much, and so fast. When the stranger began mentioning that the mountain was her own home, she struggled with keeping up - watching her behavior and body language more than listening to the words. This resulted in a mixture of scrutiny and amusement from Rheia. She knew some words - sister, mountain, and might've figured out queen had there been an explanation; however, she heard what she wanted to hear.

And she began to laugh. It was a little sound, shy, but somehow Rheia felt comfortable enough in this other girl's presence to let down some of her guard. You? On mountain? Yes! Oh, be sister! Sister to Sif too! Her tail was fanning behind her body at a slow pace that quickened until she was thwacking at the sparse grasses peeking through the snow. Sif, Rheia and -- ah, name? Who is -- name?

Sister? Wylla's lips tugged downward at the thought. She was a sister already, and she didn't need more siblings, let alone false ones. She did relish the thought of living on a mountain with two preordered underlings, but she wasn't sure how she felt about that becoming a familial duty to them. "No, no," she said in the manner of correcting a horribly mistaken child, "queen, not sister. Ruler. Leader. You be my servant, yes?"

Man, were all mountain wolves like this? Tall black ears fell to the sides as she regarded Rheia and finally answered, "Wylla." She thought about adding a "queen" to that, but already she was reconsidering her duplicitous act. All Wylla really wanted in life was an easy way to coast through it, making as little effort as possible, but something told her that even if Rheia agreed to be her servant, she wasn't actually ready for the commitment of being this wolf's "sister".