Blackfoot Forest tinker tailor soldier spy

@Amara - backdated a little bit probably a couple of weeks

The trees had grown thick again with foliage and prey seemed to flight through on spindly legs, eager to have returned to the Teekon Wilds. There was still plenty that needed to happen for the territory to appear fully alive again, but it was far better than when the ghostly creature had first arrived. The fire of his vision focused on a small warren of rabbits who were bouncing about at the foot of a large tree; their hole was not far, but they had several young with them and did not notice the pale form of the brute in the foliage. The thick roll of his shoulders was sign enough that he would move forward and strike, but the ghostly figure did leave pause for just a moment, swiveling his ears atop his crown in case there were others nearby.
 
The man had a steady fear inside of him that the Rosings wolves were plotting, and he would not have put it past them to gather a small group for an ambush – strike at him when he least expected it to happen. There did not seem to be others nearby, so the pallid figure breathed a sigh of relief and lunged through the foliage, parting his jaws. The hares scattered, but not swiftly enough, and he snapped his fangs around the neck of one of the adults with a sickening crunch.
 
Heaving lungs, Kierkegaard dropped the catch at his feet and allowed the scent of blood to fill his nostrils with a metallic tang. Hunting in the thick woods had taken a great deal of getting used to, and so he found himself pleased that he had managed so well. Though he was a creature who had survived through worse, having the strength return to his ragged figure was welcome; it would mean that he would be difficult to take down. But the wolves of Rosings were quiet and they had not approached him, so the brute waited to see what would be planned in their own time. Lowering his skull, he began to tear away at the rabbit.

she felt no guilt as she sought out the scent of the man. afterall, instinct took presedence over emotion and she was no exception to that. somehow she knew aaron would not approve, but had he every truly asked her permission to take her as his wife; nor had they formally wed. infact, aaron had not even considered her voice over anything, making her less inclined to turn back as her temper surged. she had tended to his wounds, but he had not even asked of her own well being, even if the thought seemed selfish beyond reason. there was no doubt her actiond would only bring her scorn and judgement from the rest of the pack; but after all she had done, never had they truly recodnised her as an alpha, only when it suited them best. their opinions of her had come to wither from her consionce, and pondering it only made her reslise she did not care. she had cared about all of them, but those feelings were not returned as deeply as they should have. 

and then it occured to her.

she would tell him of their plans. kierkegaard clearly had no idea of the pending revolt against his reign, yet she did. it was a dangerous contemplation, the very consideration of it was traitorus. yet what have they ever done for her but plot behind her back and lie? telling him would ensure that he would remain intact and the wolves of rosings would come to no harm.. if she could manage to strike a deal. kierkegaard would put a stop to their rebellion, and no harm would come to them. it wasd the very terms he had expressed to her; that if their obedience continued they would see no hair harmed on their heads. but minna, and leto, and liri and samuel put a threat to that, a threat to their very existance and they did not even know it. her mind was made up. she would tell him. 

the ghost-like outline of the male sent a chill down her spine, knowing her scent and intent would be known to him in just a matter of seconds. he hunted with ease, she watched as his powerful jaws ripped apart the hare with thundering strength. a wave of fear came over her, as she imagined the same thing happening to her family. no, that would be prevented. she stepped from behind the shadows she hid, standing before him with awaiting eyes. she did not need to tell him what she sought for, her lust was apparent in her scent. her tiny frame did not quiver as she came clear in her intentions. this was what she wanted.

<33 replies will be much quicker so we can get through this. you're a saint for being so patient.

There were many budding thoughts of what the wolves would do if they did not wish for him to be inside of their pack. As tired as he had grown with the way that their world worked, he knew that they could not have been pleased that he had taken the place of their leader without any of the effort that was asked of a normal wolf. He had conquered their home with little regard to how it would have damaged their lives and their relationships with the others around them. This was the ghost’s nature, though; he had taken many things in his life that did not rightfully belong to him. The revolution was brewing inside of the Rosings pack, but he did not know who he could have sought out for answers. The only thought would be to find a way to flee, should they arise and attempt to overthrow him. For every inch of him that was a fighter, there was more of a survivor than anything else. When he had gathered his strength and returned to the beast he had been before the debilitating famine, he would no longer have a need for the wolves of the wood. When that time came, he would either become quite dangerous or he would depart with nothing but the ragged body that he had arrived in.
 
A blood-soaked muzzle was lifted upward to peer curiously at the female leader who had emerged from the brush. His fiery gaze rolled over her figure and he wondered silently why she had come to find him there, and what anger she had brought with her. Their previous conversation had been an odd one. She had told him that disrespectful actions would result in his immediate removal. Of course, the threat was one that he did not heed, but Kierkegaard had not actively sought to damage any of the wolves within their ranks. For as long as he had been there, he still did not consider them his wolves. Nevertheless, the expression on the woman’s face was one that he was familiar with.
 
“I see you have come to find me,” he remarked in a soft snarl. Lifting his head upward so that he could level his crown with her own, he quirked a single brow and canted his head to the left. “You’ve made your decision then?”
 
They were nothing more than animals, after all. They had their own needs, and he had filled many of them in his past. The moment that he would share with the fellow leader of the tangled wood was not unfamiliar to him in any sense of the word. Still, there was a curious tick in the maze of his mind that questioned her intentions and whether or not the actions that would follow would condemn her as well as himself. The ghost was not a cautious wolf, though. He was a savage, and he would behave accordingly.  

had she decided? was it truly a choice, what nature drove her to do, rather than what she felt morally right? what separated the two, if any thing at all? no, her actions were the result of a lust that could not be sated, and the need for revenge she felt growing inside, nothing more. a nod of her head was the first action she made, before stepping forward towards the brute. perhaps, this was a mistake, yet she could not bring herself to care. aaron would not care; she was sure. why would he, why would anyone? amara could not be accused of betrayal; amara was not capable of such a thing, in fact not anything at all. 

tentative paces closed a distance, though her own nerves did not fully close the gap. instead, she took the comfortable distance to look the other over, slowly yet not overly cautiously examining his structure and she could not help wondering how such a man came to be without a proper home, or did he have a record of taking what was not his. never mind, his past was not one that particularly interested her. and she had come to learn, that she did not care what he did with their present, to their pack. it was not her's anymore, and the wolves inside had never bowed to her. not with truth. they would submit to kierkegaard, or, they were lost. and she did not care if they were. it was not hate, yet it grew no close to love. and love was something she could not get from kierkegaard; perhaps the reason she felt no guilt as she made her way towards him. 

yet, his tone was unlike the last she had met him in. it fit the situation, leaving her to wonder how much of a brute he truly was or if the wolves of rosings were simply soft. perhaps, it surprised her, yet the feeling of curiosity was overrun by a lust she had not felt before. her and aaron, it was delicate. but the last word to describe the male before her was graceful. "it seems so. i did not think you would question it," she found him a man of act rather than words, yet, what did she truly know about him. what did anyone. her tail swished with anticipation. unlike herself, she found herself restless, eager even. despite, she kept the leveled tone matched with his. she would get what she came for, soon enough.

okay third and final post from me. You can archive when you reply my friend <3

The wolves of Rosings were soft. At least in the eyes of the ghostly mercenary. He had traveled the world many times and he knew the type. Perhaps there was a portion of Kierkegaard that envied the wolves of the forest. He had never known a home in the manner that they knew their's. He would not have admitted it outright, but it was still something that lingered inside of him like burning embers. They wouldn't accept him into their pack because he was a wicked and vile thing. He was a creature who knew no home and had no sense of belonging to anything but himself. It was plain to see why they would wish him to leave. But as foul as he was, the ragged ghost was also stubborn and he was determined to hold his ground as long as he could. 

Unless he didn't have to. 

The woman wished it, or she would not have sought him out. It was all he needed. The brute would leave her with his young and he would depart the forest with his blood inside of her. Perhaps she didn't realize how awful their fate would be. Without another question, the ghost moved toward her and huffed quietly. The action was a simple one - it was carnal and driven only by nature's need. When he had finished, he did not need to remain behind to tend to her. She had made herself into a pariah. The action had only made her situation worse. So he departed into the forest and left her with nothing but the swimming possibility of ghostly children.