Grouse Thicket calling the inquisition

attn: @Ikkuma

 

The beasts forged through the thicket until they had found the end of this territory, too. By then, they had exacted their revenge upon the guiltless grouse the place had been named for; blood, wood, feathers, and dirt clung to their enormous figures, the latter of which Ikkalrok freed from her leathery nostrils with a heavy snort. With a lolling tongue, the bitch gazed to the night sky before her low voice sounded off, a summons to those who would know—or even think—to listen for it. The voices of those with her joined in, the sound surely a foreboding one to any that would not recognize their beckoning.

The summer air was humid and warm no matter the time, which were aspects she did not particulary enjoy about this time of the year, but Ikkuma was distracted by her travel weariness and surly attitude by the change in her circumstances. The Redhawks had been true to their word, and she to her's; they treated her shoulder and as repayment she began to cross their plateau and memorize it, tracking and dissuading pests while she let her body mend. In time she would begin hunting for them as well, but for the time being all she could do was explore, adjusting to her new life.

She hadn't meant to go far, nor to cross the boundary in to the thicket north of the plateau, but she did, and when she realized the scent of Raven and the others had faded in the grass, she had to pause and orient herself. It was in this moment that a call sounded deep in the wood; the voice was unfamiliar but the summons was clear, and it sent a chill along her spine. Her brow furrows, and she blurts a soft curse beneath her breath—and wonders if she should turn tail like a coward, or face whoever it was that called to her and all Anneriwok.

For fucks sakes, she sighed with her head low, am I not free of you yet? But there was nobody around to hear her, nor watch her pace. Not for a moment, anyways.

Ikkuma was far enough away to not be noted, known, or observed; as ever, however, Ikkalrok rumbles a command to her subordinates: seek. Two subordinates become silhouettes, looking every bit the wild bear from this distance; though she has the nose for tracking, Ikkalrok cannot scent what she has yet to meet and know. There were likely Anneriwok that would not be found, if they did not wish to be; Tartok, in truth, did not look very hard. Those that did not want to be found did not want to become, and were fickle in their loyalty—better they turn from them before ever being named. If that was to be their only act of courage, so be it—Ikkalrok was aware of how many it might save. Tartok was not suited for those that would turn their back when an eye was not upon them. 

Such was the purpose of Anneriwok. Who was true, when no one was watching? 

Ikkalrok's gaze perused her surroundings. She began to sniff at the soil she stood upon, and her remaining subordinate followed suit. Her brown eyes caught sight of a feather that had drifted from her ear to the earth, once she had lowered her head, and Ikkalrok grimaced as she stood and shook out her furs once more. Any other feathers she could not see were, temporarily, embedded in the knots of her wild, unkempt fur.

They were Tartok all right — able to traverse with stealth and speed despite their number, as if knowing some incredible secret that gave them some prowess. Ikkuma knew their type; she did not know where they were specifically but there was the sensation of being watched, something that was more common to prey animals and something that made her fur spike. She did not like it.

Her pacing eventually ceased and she stood there, her attention focused on her surroundings, when she thought she saw the movement of a shadow. A darkly coated wolf was creeping through, silent and deadly, as she had predicted. It was a large one — reminding her of her mother at first glance, which caused her stomach to flutter, but this stranger was larger and younger. These aspects set of more alarm bells too, but those she could handle.

After a few seconds of staring and tracing the stranger's path, Ikkuma decided she wasn't going to just stand there being useless—she wasn't the type to back down and she wasn't going to give in to her apprehension. A part of her wondered if her siblings were here too, but she didn't dwell on that as she took off after the shadow, a flickering flame following step-for-step.

It had been @Anuniaq who had been followed; for as slow as they were, mentally, physically they were perhaps the wisest. He had heard the sound of her, or perhaps he had smelled her, and when she approached Ikkalrok caught his body language shift from seeking to alert. And so it was him Ikkalrok steadily approached; by the time she arrived, there was a ruddy bitch standing near to him, a bright stain to the muted canvas of monochrome around her. 

Ikkalrok drew to her full height as she observed the other, noting their injury without mention. Still she moved closer, seeking to bridge the distance between them entirely, to gather the scents collected on this stranger and to better know this place for it as she moved. If Ikkuma shied away, Ikkalrok would be given brief pause, though throughout this exchange she remained entirely mute. Their (the strangers) approach did not mean anything as to what they had heard in the call, but if they had heard anything in it, they would know to state their full, given name. Nothing was truly ever risked by a stranger to approach the large band of wandering wolves; they were all social creatures. Of course, there was some risk to it—but if the advancement were aggressive, or became that way, Ikkalrok was all too familiar with ending exchanges with like-minded, malignant intent. It was, for the most part, never difficult to eradicate whatever threat posed itself. There were some true warriors among them, but even they were brought to their knees in the end.

It wasn't long until she was lulled in to a familiar march. The wolves were all around her and she couldn't see them, but Ikkuma knew the feeling of being surrounded well enough and the fiery fur along her shoulders began to raise. She stopped dead in her tracks and listened, hearing the subtle sounds of footfalls all around her, and then called out to the dark: Okay, enough. I heard you and I'm here, but what the hell do you want? Cut the crap. You're the big and sneaky Tartok. So am I—uh, sort of. Her tail lashed her hocks a few times and she felt her teeth grit as she admitted this. Judging by her shouting-at-trees approach Ikkuma was quite unlike the silent warriors that surrounded her.

Ikkalrok had not been in hiding; she had been in plain sight. Big? Yes. Sneaky? Not the wolves with her; these were the offensive front, the beserkers. The wolves that went for the kill. There was no hint of amusement on her features after the other broke the silence; this was not the first loudmouthed wolf that had decided and chosen to become a part of them, and there was nothing unique about the situation that presented itself before Ikkalrok. Her dark gaze held the flame as she considered things for a moment. 

Sort of. Anneriwok, then. The lack of confidence confirmed as much, and that was deduced even with the ample amount the lit match had brought with her. Are you? comes her deep voice, rough and worn with disuse. There was no expectancy to her tone, or even in her gaze; the question was pointed. Were they still becoming? Or had they decided it was not the life they wished for themselves? In asking as much, she presented Ikkuma with her reason for coming: for this answer, firstly.