Redsand Canyon restless

Kalina was restless, as always, and had traveled far in the last few days up from the flatlands and was now in the mountains. She stopped here, in this strange canyon full of rusty rocks and a floor of sand. It was a strange, alien landscape for someone who had grown up in small rolling mountains of brush, winding creeks, and open skies. She had never felt so enclosed, trapped by spires of rock that towered above her towards the sky. But the sand felt nice under paws and the act of exploring a new area made her happy—and restless.

Kalina was always restless. Always. Always moving, running away, or running towards, wishing always to twine her body around some male somewhere. Her instincts were strong, the instincts to carry her genes to the next generation. There was a massive and inescapable disappointment raging through her body that she had missed her heat this year, the first year that she could have had pups. It caused this restlessness. She wanted to throw herself at everything that moved. Instead she wound her way, catlike, through this maze of red spires, and hoped that none of them decided to fall down on top of her.

He hadn't thought it possible to be happier than he had upon leaving Bearclaw's borders, but he was. That happiness had been more relief, a lightening of the weight upon his shoulders. This was pure joy, to have @Cortland as a traveling companion. The boy was kind and witty, and he knew the stories they could bounce back and forth, factual or not, were endless.

They had climbed the mountain and stopped to rest in a canyon; Phocion had seen it from a distance, when he'd first crossed this range, but hadn't decided to explore it further. The sun began to rise, and the white priest prepared himself for slumber, tucking into a nook in the ruddy walls. He had just began to drift off when the sound of pawsteps caught his ear.

Light, and feminine--and while Cortland was not the most masculine of wolves, these sounds were still too soft to be his new friend. His eyes opened in a shock of glacial blue, and he slipped warily from his sleeping place, bristling slightly as he sought the interloper. It had been a long time since he'd slept anywhere but Bearclaw Valley, and he felt slightly uneasy in the new territory.

There! A flash of dusky brown, and a slim she-wolf--no, he amended, it was a coyote; there was no mistaking that pointed nose and ears--appeared in view, looking curious. His nose wrinkled. He had no real distaste for the creatures, but they were coyotes, after all--lower on the social totem pole than wolves, according to his tribe. Thieving and dishonest, the legends said. (He'd never met one.)

Still, he figured he ought to make his presence known, and shot a neutral chuff in her direction, standing straight and looking her way.

Kalina’s ear swiveled like a cat’s to meet the sound of the chuff before her head swung round to find the source. It was a wolf, obviously. And now that she’d actually found one, she had every intention of pretending like she couldn’t care any less. Languidly, she made her way over to him, but there was still an amount of caution in her walk. She did not move quickly, instead meandering towards the male, partly to give him time to tell her to back off if he wanted to, and partly to see what he would do with her now that she was coming closer. Not all wolves were keen to meet their smaller cousins. “Hey there,” she called out in an easy voice, one that was dripping with sensuality. A teasing tone, light, but entirely suggestive. “What’s a big, strong wolf like you doing out here without a pack, hmm?” If this went her way, she’d have him wrapped around her tail in no time. Of course, this could go in completely the opposite direction just as easily. She played a dangerous game with this wolf, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

So they did speak the common tongue. Phocion had heard tales of coyotes with garbled language, unable to communicate properly with their betters. He pondered this thought for a short moment, before her words sank in.

The white priest lifted his lips in a smirk that might have been read as receptive, but he was really trying to stifle laughter. Perhaps in his younger days, a budding temptress with honeyed speech could have tempted him, but those days were long in the past, and so her attempts were met with mild derision. But he had his manners, and he gave a gracious dip of his muzzle to her.

"If I am so big and strong, why should I have need of a pack?" Phocion shot back, a chuckle caught in his throat. It was ridiculous, really; he was smaller than most women, and fine-boned as a songbird. He cast his gaze round to look for Cortland, who should be nearby somewhere, before letting it rest once more on the woman in silent question.

Kalina talks a lot apparently. I went overboard cos I was having way too much trying to think of flirty things LOL.

Kalina reached what she thought was an appropriate distance from the male, suppressing the urge to come closer and twine her body against his in the way that cats rub against their human’s legs. She lifted her head a bit, turning it to the side so that she could look at him with a sideways smile. “Oh, how silly of me,” she said, voice still honeyed and coy. “Of course you wouldn’t need a pack. Or maybe you’d be the alpha?” In her head she was thinking something like, I don’t know, aren’t all wolves obsessed with living together in packs or something? But she did not say this aloud. Her mother had been a temptress before her and had used almost the same tone and language with her own children when she wanted them to do something for her, so she’d grown up talking one way and thinking a completely other way. Never let anyone know what you were really thinking. Unless you were angry. Then you were supposed to come down hard and hot like a wildfire and burn them to the ground for causing your anger in the first place.

The coyote’s brown eyes alighted upon the wolf’s pelt, her gaze moving from his blue eyes to his white pelt. He was not the biggest wolf she’d seen, but he was bigger than her, obviously, and that was enough to go on. “Mm, those blue eyes like ice, and a body of snow. If you were a woman I’d call you beautiful. I’ll settle for handsome.” She sat down, feeling safe enough for now. He hadn’t attempted to attack her yet. “However do you catch prey with such pretty white fur? You must have superior hunting skills to overcome it.” She paused for a beat. “The ladies must throw themselves at you.”

The boy had woken alone from his nap, having decided he had nothing better to do with his companion asleep, and for a few beats feared the worst. He had risen lethargically, realizing then that he dreaded the idea of the ethereal white wolf's departure. The idea of being alone did not bother him— that Phocion could have abandoned him did. No great panic seized the young Mayfair; he moved wearily from his sleeping spot, head low.
The scent of his new companion nearby calmed temporary flare of nerves. Cortland quickened his pace slightly, eager to find the other. He stopped, though, when he heard voices. For a moment he froze, simply listening— he had arrived just as the.. what was that?— oh, nevermind. The small, shrill thing had just begun her... odd spiel, and the sunset Mayfair was unimpressed. He approached quietly, sliding alongside Phocion with ears slightly tilted back. Cortland stood just close enough that their fur brushed, saying nothing. For now, he just watched.

The damn woman finally did it; he let out a guffaw at her empty praise, ducking his head with eyes filled with mirth. He met her gaze after a few moments with an expression that might have been bashful, in a younger wolf. But he was in his fourth spring, now, and he had nothing but amusement verging on scorn for the coyote girl.

"Ladies, and some men, too," he jested, smiling wryly. As if on cue, Cortland appeared by his side quite suddenly, and he cast a glance to his companion, looking more sincere as he turned back to the woman. "As for hunting, miss, I'm afraid that's not one of my finer points. Manners, however, are, but it seems I've forgotten them. My name is Phocion, and this is my friend, Cortland."

He gave another bow of his head, ears canted forward in curiosity. "Tell me, what's a young woman like yourself doing all alone out here propositioning strangers, hmm?" the white priest parroted her, his voice straddling the edge between playful and cruel. He once had a sharp tongue, and he felt the intense urge to wield it now. . .but hold back, hold back, the elders had told him. Beaten it into him. He was kinder, now.

At the sudden emergence of another wolf on the scene, Kalina had to resist the instinct to step away from the both of them. Two on one made this an unfair fight—if a fight occurred. But this second, sandy-colored male did not say anything and indeed did not even seem to care that she was there, aside from a momentary laying back of his ears. She slid her glance from him back to the white male. She dipped her head when he gave her his name. “I am Kalina, and I am glad to have met a wolf who did not instantly chase me off for being a, what do your kind usually call me? a lesser breed? something like that?” She grinned slyly, showing that she was not angry about what other wolves called her, though somewhere in her eyes, deeper down, was a hard glint, a hint that her usual treatment by wolves did, in fact, anger her.

The coyote dipped her head also in Cortland’s direction, but since he remained silent, she continued to focus on Phocion. Her mouth opened in a canine smile when he asked her what she was doing out here, propositioning strangers. “What do you think I’m doing out here, handsome?” she retorted. “I’m propositioning.” Here she looked at Cortland again. “You’re welcome to join in the fun, too. I don’t bite. Actually it would be you fellas who do the biting, wouldn’t it?” She was referring to the act of mounting and what that sometimes required of males (biting the scruff of the neck) but she left her comment open-ended, wondering if either of them would understand.

It seemed the situation only devolved. The young Mayfair remained quietly by his friend, tucking away the spark of pleasure at being introduced as such, but became more uncomfortable as the female spoke. He shifted awkwardly, wondering what she meant by lesser breed. Unfortunately, he wasn't given long to wonder.
That the female turned her attention to him immediately caused Cortland to shrink back slightly. His eyes widened at her suggestion, ears pinning flat to his head now. I— The boy took a few steps back. No— no. Something about her suggestion bothered him. Gaze trained firmly on the ground, he fell silent again, but his dismay was palpable now. The reaction was unexpected even to him— part of him felt ashamed, but a larger part wanted nothing more than to get away from the wiry not-wolf. Still, he would not abandon his friend— unless the other wanted him to actually... do that thing the creature was implying.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the boy recoil, and his gaze frosted over as he looked at Kalina, her coy smile. "You would be wise not to test me, Kalina," he said tersely, spitting her name with some venom. "Flirt and play with me all you like, but do not trouble my friend." He felt a surge of protectiveness toward the golden Mayfair, and drew closer.

"Perhaps they chase you away not because you are a coyote, but because you are fundamentally irritating," Phocion reasoned, his tone cold. "You do yourself a disservice by approaching me so. One does not make ideal friends, nor lovers, with this conduct."

She was young, though, and heavens knew Phocion had done many stupid things in his youth. Said many stupid things. Growing older was all about making mistakes and learning from them, and on that front, Kalina had miles to go. Still, he would not tolerate her turning this juvenile behavior onto Cortland. That would not stand.

"Any man with half a brain would see right through you," he continued, growing less emotional, more clinical, like a lecturer on some bland topic or another. "You woo someone not with empty praises, nor innuendo, but with honesty and respect. Neither of which you seem to have for me, nor for Cortland."

sorry this is short and shitty.

Kalina’s ears turned off about halfway through Phocion’s lecture. If he wasn’t going to fuck her, then she didn’t need him, and she didn’t need his lecture either. She waited with dull, bored eyes for his little speech to finish, and then snapped out, “Fine.” With a last look, she turned and left. Perhaps she would find some aroused male elsewhere with whom she could take out her frustrations.

Exit unless stopped.

While Kalina became bored with Phocion's lecture, Cortland became increasingly enamored with it. By the end of the priest's speech, his expression had softened into something best described as 'love-struck'. Not that he was aware. Distantly he thought it must be wonderful to be 'woo'ed by Phocion, if one was lucky enough for such a thing. Before he could even think another word, suddenly the strange not-wolf was leaving.
He was unbothered entirely by the development. When she was out of sight, the Mayfair turned to his companion with a faintly amused expression. He supposed he couldn't blame her for trying, but... Good riddance, Cortland decided with a look of distaste in the direction the coyote had gone. Then— What... was she? When he had presumably received his answer, he was more than ready to move on, though not without several new things to ponder.