Bramblepoint Lethal poison for the system
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Ooc — Chelsie
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By the time she was far enough from the Caldera pack that their scent no longer wafted by on errant breezes, Wylla cooled off enough to think straight. "No big deal," she muttered to herself as she ducked mindlessly into a thorny orchard. She weaved her thin body expertly through the bushes and brambles, leaving scraps of ink-tipped silver hair here and there as she went. "Who needs 'em, I'm fine by myself," she mumbled as she came to rest her flank against the knotted trunk of an apple tree, flicking her jet ears forward and refusing to look back for now.

There had to be dozens of packs to choose from that weren't as willing to admit their own weakness, right? And at least they would appreciate her skills, although she would much prefer a pack that took her in and didn't need her to work her ass off for them in return. Not like she would anyway. Wylla's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she didn't really have the luxury of dawdling. It wasn't like she would have turned away from the Caldera pack if the leader had told her it was weak but then offered her a place in it. She was too desperate for that, and desperate enough to think poorly of them for their choice even if there were a hundred other packs she could join.

She pulled in a deep breath, whirled around to face in the direction of the Caldera (which was no longer visible through the trees) and yelled, "Suck it, you cucks!" as if anyone there would hear her or care for her insults. Yeah. That'd show them.
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Galaxy paused and tipped her head skyward, noting that the pasty white heavens were now turning blue in places where the clouds were thinning. She smiled at the sunlight peeking through the mostly overcast firmament, then dropped her mismatched gaze earthward again. @Hydra lurked somewhere behind her, probably squinting a little now as the youth trod the outskirts of the Altar of Twilight and began moving toward the trees beckoning her just yonder.

"I won't go much farther!" she called to appease her protective older sister, smiling fondly as she thought of her big black shadow. There was something dark and furry ahead too, which caused Galaxy's white ears to prick. They flicked when the figure shouted, "Suck it, you cucks!" and prompted a trio of crows to burst from the bare branches overhead, cawing indignantly as they disappeared toward the brightening horizon.

"What's a cuck?" Galaxy called to the perfect stranger, head tilted curiously to one side as she ventured forth.
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With a flourish, Wylla spun around on her tippy-toes, prepared to forget about Redhawk Caldera for the rest of her life (not that her grudges ever worked like that), and came face-to-face with the most strikingly unusual looking wolf she'd ever met. Oh, not to say that there was anything wrong with Galaxy's proportions, and the colour of her fur was orthodox, if somewhat rare in these parts. There was nothing about her physically that stood out save that the younger she-wolf was slender, but larger than herself. Rather, Wylla's sunny yellow eyes met Galaxy's mismatched pair in a splendidly prismatic collision and she found herself mesmerized for a beat.

But when the youth's airy question met the sideways drape of her ears, Wylla blinked and looked away. Galaxy sure had some unusual eyes, but even though she wanted to ask about them, there was nothing Wylla liked more than griping about someone else, and Galaxy had thrown that door wide open for her.

"Entitled pack wolves," she answered, punctuating the statement with a disdainful sniff. Come to think of it, Galaxy smelled an awful lot like other wolves too; even from a distance, the vagabond could detect at least two or three others in the youth's natural scent aura. "That ain't you, right?" she wondered with a quick lash of her tail, upping her side-eye game considerably as she peered down her snipey snout at the slim white she-wolf.
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"Entitled?" Galaxy repeated ponderously, unsure exactly what the word meant. She was young, not dumb, so she took a moment to sort through contextual clues in order to guess, "If you mean that I have a title, then yes, I'm an entitled pack wolf. I'm Galaxy, Pi and apprentice astronomer of Moonspear." She had never introduced herself that way and it sounded pretty darn cool to her, as if she was some sort of wizened cosmic royalty.

"What is it I'm supposed to be sucking?" she wondered in the next breath, mismatched eyes dancing a little. Galaxy could be spacey sometimes (ha, ha...) but she knew that the stranger had been shouting epithets, not speaking literally. Still, it was fun to humor this new acquaintance, and she had only the most good-natured of intentions.
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It was Galaxy's thoughtful, breathy voice and matter-of-fact tone that saved her from Wylla's wrath when she thought she smelled a smart-ass in the room. She crinkled the skin on her snout and briefly revealed the tips of her teeth, ready to clap back—nuh uh girlfrand no one out-sasses the queen—but by virtue of mistaking Galaxy for a hapless simpleton, Wylla held her tongue and settled for unfurling a sweet but condescending smile.

"No, no," she chirped with a little shake of her head to dismiss Galaxy's literal translation. What a silly notion, that words should mean exactly what they meant. Poor thing, she was clueless! "You should be sucking my metaphorical cojones," she replied quite blithely, "but that's not what I meant."

Trying her best not to get caught up in Galaxy's unusual gaze again, Wylla chanced a step or two closer and then edged into a sly circle, asking as she went, "what do you think of lone wolves, hm?"
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Galaxy blinked politely at the stranger's rejoinder, rather oblivious to the other wolf's fascination with her mismatched gaze. Before she could formulate a response, the stranger edged nearer and began to circle. This didn't bother Galaxy—who turned her head to track the movements not out of self-defense but to make certain the stranger knew she was paying attention—though she idly wondered when her elder sister would surely interfere.

"I've never met a lone wolf," Galaxy replied thoughtfully before adding, "until now, I suppose?" She smiled. "What's your name? And how come you're not entitled to a pack?"
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Hydra had kept her distance, all too willing to let her sister learn on her own terms the ways of the wild. Even when she had spotted her sibling interact with a lone wolf, Hydra only closed the distance between them a very short measure, electing to investigate the recent imprint left behind by prey instead. When she raised her head to look at the interaction, the lone wolf could now be seen circling her sister.

The furs along her shoulder bristled. It was too close for comfort to oblivious Galaxy, who hadn't a mean bone in her body. It seemed Hydra, Alya, and Lyra had inherited all of them, while KJ, Galaxy, Vela, and even Jarilo were simply good. Hydra wasted no time in approaching them, seeking to stand broadside to Galaxy and hopefully interrupt the others circling pattern. Hydra knew the maneuver well, but Galaxy didn't. And wouldn't. She was no fighter of any sort—verbally, or physically. After sniffing at the air and determining that Wylla was not of the Blackfeather wolves, she felt moreso relaxed with the situation—but still curious as to why the other had been waltzing 'round her sister like that.

Hey, Hydra regarded the both of them with the casual greeting before looking to her sister, Making friends? She queried, looking to Galaxy, and then to the sly Wylla. The girl was undeniably pretty, though exceptionally thin. That was the state Hydra was used to seeing loners in. While the narrowness typically did no one any favors in the appearance department, it made the black phase all the more sharp in appearance—Wylla looked every bit the cutting blade. Her notched ear twitched as she observed the stranger.
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Wylla's intentions were almost nonexistent—she circled out of a need to keep moving, lest her skinny body feel the cold—but when some broad came striding out of the woods and stood directly in her path, Wylla drew back with a faint sneer, suspicions mounting. Her interactions with pack wolves had been nothing but bad thus far, and recently, it had nothing to do with her usual unsavoury attitude. She blamed Towhee entirely for what happened at the Caldera, and the few packs she'd run into before that had displayed a similar holier-than-thou attitude that made her pessimistic in the face of any seasoned pack wolf, as Hydra clearly was.

Galaxy she could have potentially gotten along with, maybe even introduced her to the ways of the lone wolf, who she would insist fought twice as hard to survive as any pack wolf ever had to. Hydra's imposing presence did nothing to quell Wylla's lofty opinion of herself and other loners, luckily, so she didn't hesitate to answer Galaxy's question with point-blank honesty: "Because pack wolves tend to be jerks."

Before either of them could possibly be offended enough to it to launch an offensive, Wylla continued. "Every pack wolf I've ever met looks down on loners like they're better than us, but they ain't never had to survive on their own. I can't stand spoiled pack wolves that act like that. That's why I'm not an entitled pack wolf, because no pack has deserved it." Well, no one ever said Wylla wasn't full of herself and completely bitter, right? "So what does your pack think, hm?" she wondered, believing herself to know the answer as her gaze drifted to Hydra.

As far as she was concerned, all pack wolves were the same.
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At the yearling's reply, Galaxy made a thoughtful hmmm noise. She was sorry to hear that, though before she could make a verbal reply, her elder sister's shadow subsumed her present company. "Yes," she replied right away, "this is—" She looked to her dark acquaintance, allowing her an opportunity to introduce herself.

Now Galaxy pondered the question Wylla had posed unto them. She glanced at Hydra, who surely had an answer at the ready, but decided to voice her own thoughts first as they both seemed to be waiting on her particularly. "I couldn't imagine being a lone wolf," she said truthfully, voice quite thoughtful. "It would be very hard and lonely." She paused. "Maybe Moonspear is good enough for you?" she added blithely. "You shouldn't be alone, especially not this time of year."
the bonecracker
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The lone wolf was quick to fall into a rant about pack wolves being jerks. Hydra might have been made irate by this, being a pack wolf herself, but knew that she herself wasn't a jerk (the reality being she truly was a massive one) and so could not find reason to be offended. Hydra could see the sense in other pack wolves being annoyed by lone wolves, though Hydra herself mostly felt bad for them. Who would choose that life? Having no real sense of wanderlust within her, Hydra couldn't empathize.

I have no desire to be a lone wolf, Hydra admitted plainly, though there were no barbs laced within her words, and the only wolves I look down upon are those without sense—the sort that trespass. But lone wolves aren't the only ones to do that, she explained. And, thinking of a pack wolf she particularly detested in her own pack, she added: oh, and the lazy. Were Hydra the leader of Moonspear, Rouge would be out by now; but she sensed that her father might be keeping her around for other reasons. It wasn't as though Rouge was ever in the depths of Moonspear to learn anything about the territory. Hydra had only scented her just at the borders, and beyond... though Hydra was certain that Rouge likely accessed the cache nearest to the borders.

Hydra's ear flicked at Galaxy's words. Ah. Kindhearted Galaxy. She was right, of course. Wylla would not do well on her own when Winter hit full force. In fact, Hydra thought she might die. But the girl certainly had spirit, something that Hydra could appreciate. But, being an entitled pack wolf, Hydra did not care to know if Moonspear was "good enough" for Wylla. Of course it was—Moonspear was, to put it lightly, the best. There was certainly a song and dance involved to be added to their number at this point. But, to be frank, if any damn wolf offered more than the one wolf who literally did nothing? There was at least a chance. Still, their conversation hadn't gone that way.

When was the last time you were in a pack? Hydra inquired. With how Wylla detested 'pack wolves', Hydra could only assume a long time. Did she understand what it meant to be a functioning member of a pack? Or would she be useless, like Rouge? In any case, this stranger had not displayed the desire to even be in a pack—Hydra wouldn't interrogate her and put her through the process without needing to. And why choose to be a lone wolf? Her eyes need not fall to Wylla's slimmer than normal figure—Hydra could not see the positives in a life where one was never truly safe. It was not simply the hunger Hydra thought of, but cougars and other animals that could prove to be a problem. It sounded like far more trouble than it was worth.
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Wylla's eyes drifted between Galaxy and Hydra with a mixture of scrutiny and uncertainty. It wasn't too often that she voiced her dislike for those who lived the high life, mostly out of desperation. If she went around broadcasting her true feelings all the time, soon enough, it would come back to bite her. Her gaze hinged on Galaxy when the slim white she-wolf spoke up first, and immediately the loner's opinion of her began to climb. Galaxy got it. Being a lone wolf was worse than just being lonely or having a hard lifestyle, and there was nothing Wylla wanted more than recognition of that.

Hydra, on the other hand, grazed the point. While the attractive older wolf did state that she didn't look down specifically on lone wolves, which Wylla respected well enough, she didn't exude the same amount of understanding as Galaxy did and went on to assume that such a lifestyle was a decision she'd made. "Who said anything about choosing it?" she asked with a backward flick of her ears and simultaneous twitch of her tail.

"I never chose this life," she clarified, "I'm just not as lucky as some wolves." Her natal pack had splintered, as far as she knew, before she was old enough to understand what was happening. Her father had perished under uncertain circumstances and her mother, though attentive, was only one wolf. Her upbringing was hardly comfortable and hadn't afforded the same opportunities as Hydra's and Galaxy's evidently had. "The only thing I choose is to not live my life among wolves who think they're better than me just because they were luckier."

Panning her gaze back to Galaxy, Wylla carefully asked, "tell me about your pack?" Because if nothing else, if the pack had produced someone like this, then there was some hope that they were at least better than the last one.
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Hydra posed some questions of her own and Galaxy hummed under her breath as Wylla answered, noting that she didn't specify how long she'd been without a pack's support. By the look of her, it had been a while since she'd known any sort of creature comfort, an observation which made the pale youth's face crease with concern. Surely there was room for Wylla in Moonspear? She shot the Beta female an inquisitive look, not really sure how this sort of thing worked.

But then the rawboned yearling's query distracted her. Galaxy's attention snapped back to Wylla. "Oh, it's lovely! What would you like to know?"
the bonecracker
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There was no disguising her surprise at Wylla's answer. That was a curious thing. Every wolf she had ever met that was a lone wolf seemed proud of it, behaved as though that life was the life. Hydra had never believed them, of course. She was satisfied with the answer given and thought all the better of the sharp-looking stranger before her. If nothing else, the girl was honest. And as for luck, Hydra wondered at that. Was it luck? Maybe. Yet another thing on her side in life. 

Hydra was incredibly privileged and even knew it. But she didn't pity those who were not. After all, even though she had been born to the best pair of wolves she possibly could, she had worked hard to be where she was. Luck was that she was born, maybe—but then there was KJ, born to the same pair of wolves, who was just, well, a bit disappointing. Becoming better now through work, but that had nothing to do with luck. That was just the way things were. 

To the benefit of Wylla's thoughts, Hydra validated, those that live off their luck and accost others will surely meet misfortune, her tail waved amicably. This she believed. Hell, as she thought of Rouge, she realized she knew this to be a fact. Rouge had been lucky to be among them—but her laziness, in the end, would cost her. She glanced toward Galaxy when Wylla questioned her younger, capable sister, and when Galaxy rejoined with her own polite inquiry, Hydra looked back to her. She had no issue in sharing the bare minimum with the nameless stranger, but her curiosity bid that she ask: you looking to join?
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What would you like to know? Now that was the question. What didn't Wylla want to know? If she could get away with it—that is, if Hydra wasn't in attendance—she probably would have asked things like, "where are your caches?" and "what's the fastest way down the mountain?" After all, the name of the game was Life, and Wylla wanted to win it with as little effort as possible.

But Hydra was in attendance and struck her as a more severe wolf than Galaxy in nearly every way, so she played it safe. "What sort of pack is it? Family? Friends? Random strangers trapped together, forced to make nice?" There were an awful lot of packs out there like that, including Wylla's own natal pack, which no longer existed. She thought that was the best way to live, without the tethers of friendship and love around her ankles.

Then again, Wylla's only friends in life were own wayward kin, so it wasn't like she knew any better. What harm was there in testing the waters? Turning her thin muzzle to the prettier Hydra, she gave a toothsome smile and said, "actually, I am."
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Hydra tossed in a query of her own and Galaxy's smile seemed to brighten impossibly. She waited for Wylla to pose some specific questions before she spoke again, though she did not open her mouth right away. Instead, she took a moment to absorb the young woman's inquiries and give them proper consideration before replying.

"It's a bit of both!" she declared in a voice that was somehow both calm and enthused. "Everyone in the pack becomes a part of the family. We all work together to make life as wonderful as possible." Galaxy was young and rather naive in these matters, though the atmosphere she described was exactly what she had personally experienced in her lifetime at Moonspear.

"Hydra could tell you a lot more than I can, though," Galaxy added after a moment, serene smile shifting to glow upon her elder sister. "She's been around a lot longer, plus she's a leader." With that, the youngster folded her pale haunches and sat, head still cocked in Hydra's direction, though she shot occasional smiling glances at Wylla too.

I don't think I'll be posting with her again, since I'm wrapping up her stuff. Feel free to PP her. :)
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Ah, a potential member was in her midst, then. From their encounter already, Hydra could ascertain that Wylla wasn't an imbecile which would work to her favor. More than that, though, Hydra could not know yet. If the unnamed stranger had something to bring to the table, Hydra had no qualms in offering her a home. Galaxy had explained Moonspear well enough, she felt—she made it sound positively sunny, but she had the eyes of a child. What's your name? Can you hunt well, and maintain caches? Given that the other had been alone for a while, she wondered if the other would be open to working with others again. Given she was looking for a pack, Hydra assumed she must be. Since it was Winter time, Hydra felt inclined to ask (what she felt was) the more essential questions.

If she was looking to join Moonspear, she certainly had a fair shot at it. Even if there wasn't space, Hydra would much prefer to see someone worthwhile in their ranks than that waste of space Rouge. That was assuming she could not complete the task Hydra had given her, which Hydra bet she would not. Hell, even if Rouge found him, Hydra imagined that she would be swayed by him in some way to become a turncoat—it was her insouciant behavior that led Hydra to feel this way. She just seemed the sort.

And so it was with all this in mind that the stranger before her was practically all but accepted, if her inquiries were confirmed. Hydra was also mindful that the other might ask more questions, but as she hadn't asked any more than what she had, she had nothing else to share and had no reason to expand upon what Galaxy had eloquently presented.
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Please pardon me while I try to undo an unintentional plot-knot lol. Since Wylla's bros are now unexpectedly in town and looking for her, and due to some other unintended confusion I need to clear up, I think her just not joining right now will cause the fewest timeline issues in the end for everyone. Sorry for awkwardness! Maybe once my timeline is cleared up she'll have another go at Moonspear! ^_^;

Wylla gathered her slim hindquarters beneath herself and eased back into a rather imperial perch as Galaxy explained Moonspear's lifestyle. It sounded much like your everyday average pack, a collection of wolves working together for the common goal of survival and prosperity. She wasn't sure how she felt about being assimilated into a family—she had one out there somewhere already, even if they weren't here, and preferred her solitude. She didn't want to feel like someone else's family, or at least she didn't think she did.

(Wylla didn't know what that felt like, that ever-coveted sense of belonging, and couldn't possibly know that that was more or less what a pack was for. All of her efforts culminating into a sense of belonging had never been a goal of hers—only survival—so she wasn't adequately prepared for what a pack actually entailed).

Nevertheless, even unable to understand it as she was, Wylla faltered. When Hydra posed her question, she answered in her usual unflappable, mostly arrogant manner— "I'm still alive even though I've been alone so long, aren't I?" —but a part of her cowered at what was a tremendous commitment, and at length she lied, "I've got a little business to finish up before I can properly dedicate myself and my skills. Do you mind if I come by when I've tidied up? Which way is Moonspear?" In the end, for all her feigned bravado and gusto, although she was desperate, Wylla was also scared of change. It was very likely she would have reacted much the same had her attempt to join Redhawk Caldera gone any smoother than it had.