Frostfire Ridge i've been looking for a way to lie

Anyone is welcome but it might be awesome to have @Citali or @Nochtli (or maybe both?!) in here - but only if you want! <3

Týrr had understood the risks of taking Ragnar's life — was not so ignorant as to believe that the wolves of the Bay might never catch onto him. He understood perfectly well, but could not bring himself to care. He did not wish to bring harm down upon the wolves of Frostfire Ridge (rather the wolves that would inhabit it in time), but the future wolves of the Ridge were not connected to the deed. Only Týrr himself; and even so the Amazon Prince could not make himself feel remorse for it. The need for vengeance was sated with blood, and for the most part he was content. Afraid still to delve into the memories of Tezcacoatl, still suffering from sharp headaches that was enough to bring him to his knees when he attempted to pry; and still he mourned the absence of the wildfire queen that he'd been (and perhaps still was) quite taken with. He missed Tuwawi, and her daughter Maera but his search could not continue with such fever. It was clear that neither remained in the Wilds and that he had more pressing things to set his attention too. Not necessarily more important, but definitely in need of more of his attention.

The Rekkr's diversion south had cost him time in the recruitment area, his journey back to the north remained lonely. It could not be helped. Ragnar had needed to pay for the crimes he'd committed against not only Týrr himself, but Quetzalcoatl and all of Coatl's Rise. He'd had a lot to answer for, and his death was but a stone's throw compared to all the deaths that Ragnar himself had dealt. It was fair, and not only had Týrr allowed him to die by his honor as a Viking, the Amazon Prince had also made sure that Odin had taken him to Valhalla. The mix of Amazon and Viking within him might have been a feral and ruthless thing, terrifying and exciting all at once, but it didn't make him heartless. 

Finally, Týrr could say that Ragnar had paid for what he'd done, and he had put the issue behind him, leaving it buried by Ragnar's stiffening body, the sea stained crimson with his blood. On his trek back towards the Ridge, the Amazon Prince had worked to rid himself of the stain of Ragnar's blood. He had not told Manauia what he'd intended to do when he had asked her to hold down the fort in his absence, simply for the fear that she would attempt to stop him. She would no doubt be angry with him, maybe for keeping it from her, maybe for going and taking on a seasoned Berserker by himself; a legendary one at that. Perhaps she would be mad at both things; but Týrr liked to believe there was naught she could do about it. It was already done, and Týrr had risen from the death match the victor. The release of tension in his shoulders was immediate as he stepped into the familiar territory of Frostfire his Ridge. Already, it was home to him. This was his home, and soon it would be the foundation that he rose his empire; and perhaps if he ever managed to get over Tuwawi it would be the place that he would raise a family. First thing was first, though, the caches he had started needed tending too, and broader than that he first had to get the pack off of the ground before his intentions and sights dared to span further.

Thanks for getting this up! Citali's doesn't know this yet, but she's thrilled she doesn't have to keep looking for him. :P

She'd lost track of how much time they'd wasted. Normally, she was better at this kind of thing. Normally, she also wasn't roaming the countryside chasing faded scents of a wolf she was supposed to be keeping a close eye on. A wolf. Just one. Just one shit ball of fur and all of them had managed to lose him. She was furious. With herself. With the guard. With herself. With walking up and down who the hell knew how many mountain ranges. With herself. With being away from environments where she knew what the hell the plants were supposed to do for what. 

Citali fumed. Silently. Her anger radiated and had been for a number of days (or was it week? months?) now. It felt like an eternity. Unfortunately, their little shit show couldn't continue until they found the chosen one and beat his hide up and down with a stick until he realized he wasn't allowed to venture off without their knowing. How the hell were they supposed to keep an eye on the Queen's son if he vanished into fucking thin air?

Seriously. The air was thinner here and it was taking her awhile to adjust. 

A growl escaped her as they kept moving. How Noct was continuing to put up with her was a testament to the woman's skill as an ambassador. Amicable. Peaceful. Citali didn't have the patience to put up with this shit. She also didn't have the necessary supplies for a through check-up once they found the brat prince either and that was more frustrating than the fact she couldn't find him. New lands. New herbs. New everything. Damn. She was out of her element. He'd made it impossible for her to do her job. And she was excellent. EXCELLENT. How dare he put her in a position where they'd all have to settle for less. 

Her thoughts were churning, repeating themselves like a broken record within her mind as they hunted him down. And then. There. Like a dream she caught a whiff of something familiar. "There. You smell that?" she asked Nochtli, pausing where she stood as she lifted her nose higher. "That's him. That has to be him." She moved, picking up her pace as she tracked the scent until finally she was at an outright run. She barreled over the terrain and no wolf was going to fucking stop her. 

Except for him. Him. The brat prince in all of his– Well shit. 

She plowed into him, slamming into his side as she used his body as a runaway ramp. They tumbled, tangling limbs as she immediately tried to straighten and right herself. No more of this nonsense. This was him. This was, "Tezca-fucking-coatl." She growled, spitting out his name as though it were some kind of poison from her lips. "I could kill you! Kill you! But I'm not. Because I can't. And you better be fucking fine and healthy when I get done checking your filthy, flea-ridden hide for every little scratch, sore and bruise!"

She felt like she was complaining more and more everyday and while she tried to stay quiet about it, sometimes it got the better of her. She hated wandering like this, hunting down a wild goose that had no business running off. Today though, Nocta was more or less silent. The energy that had been granted by the plant Cita had forced her to eat waned as they walked on, her stomach growling and gurgling at her unhappily. The two guards could not rely on plants endlessly; Without a proper meal to see them through, eventually, they'd lose whatever hope they had of finding their goose.

A light sigh left her as they walked on, her footfalls heavier than normal as she had not the energy to keep them light and airy. Wistfully, the raven colored female though of the lands they hailed from, their friends and family. When they had been sent on this mission, deemed the best of each of their crafts, they had been told that there was no higher honor than guarding the prince, besides doing so for the Queen herself. Now, were they so honored? The Prince had slipped away from them and now... now they were tired, sore, and quite frustrated.

Nochtli was just on the verge of just flopping into the dirt to take a nap when she practically stumbled anyway, startled by Cita's voice. For a moment, comprehension eluded her, her wolven brows furrowing as she peered at her companion. Had the girl finally lost it? Or was the pseudo-cephlapod's nose finally shot? Either was possible. Before she could respond, Citali took off and left the dark woman behind. It took a moment for her to figure out what was happening, though when she did get it, she was already following.

And then they somersaulted and tumbled and tangled on the ground, her friend's chocolatey form blurred with the rust of the Prince's pelt. "YOU!!!!" She piled on top of them, teeth chewing at his face, his ears, though not in a truly aggressive manner. "I'm gonna bury you!" Exhausted, her patience was thin and her energy lackluster and, finally, she just collapsed on top of both of them, fire-bright eyes giving Tezcacoatl quite the look. "Brat Prince. My feet hurt. Fix them." It felt so good to lay down.

No need to match the length — I got carried away!

Týrr had paused in his steps as he neared the heart of Frostfire, the area that would become the most heavily guarded of the pack's territory, inhaling deeply. The air was crisp and carried the scent of flora and fauna of spring. The herds had been coming back to the Wilds in force, many of them grazing in the neighboring territories of the Ridge. It was aptly located, though the Amazon Prince's reasons for setting his desires upon claiming it had been solely because he could not bring himself to reclaim Duskfire Glacier. Frostfire Ridge was a connected neighbor, close enough so that he was not far from it. Frostfire would be a tribute of the Glacier, but not a replica of it. Týrr, or rather Tezcacoatl had his own ideas, and he would see the embers of those stoked in the Ridge pack. He reveled in the relief of tension that had filled him on his diversion and the trip back for he was inherently glad to be back; happy, too, that Manauia had not allowed another to swoop in and attempt to claim what was his. Not officially, for the gathering of recruits was a slow process and raising a pack here was not something that the Amazon Rekkr intended to rush. The time put into it would make it seen well worth the effort.

Týrr's muzzle inclined skyward, crystalline blue eyes squinting against the sun, exposing the three scars trailing down his neck close to his throat. All he had left of Duskfire Glacier besides his own memories. He had earned them during his fight with the siren consort, earned them by fighting for Tuwawi and the Glacier, proving that his loyalty would be hers until his death. They were scars now, though puckered, pink and fresh. He had gained a few scrapes down his muzzle, and on his brow from his death match with Ragnar, but otherwise he had came out of that fight without being worse for wear. He felt powerful, this feeling no doubt borne of his ability to single-handily take down a seasoned Berserker. The little tidbits of knowledge he gained with every wisp of memory he regained as Tezcacoatl, coupled with the training Ragnar had given him had more likely than naught been the boon of his victory. It had felt good to pit Ragnar's own lessons against him. Ragnar had trained him to kill as a Viking Rekkr and Ragnar had learned that he had trained Týrr well. Comfort soon eluded Týrr at the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls. As it had previously, the instinct to chase out, to dominate was strong but these lands were not claimed yet and thus the Rekkr knew he had no grounds to stand upon. He allowed the leisure trespass because he wanted recruits with the belief that perhaps the land, striking as it was, would be one half of the battle of the lure. His ability to lead would be the other half.

The rapid footfalls increased, nearing him. By the time that Týrr took in the unfolding scene before him, crystalline eyes locking upon the woman, a blur of brown fur, as she rushed him and then collided with him. They fell down to the dirt and grasses previously beneath paw, a collision of their bodies, a tangle of their legs. Stupid, Týrr cursed himself as he found himself under her, heart beating rapidly in his chest. Oh the tales they would tell of him. Defeated a legendary Berserker in a death match but was taken down by a woman in the comforts of his own home. Humiliating. The noise that tore from the Amazon Prince's throat and lips was a feral noise. No. He would not die like this. Not here, and not now. Focused upon where his best opportunity to lay a blow to her in order to free himself that he nearly missed the name she growled and spat at him. Tezcacoatl. Her version had contoured it a fair deal, added a 'fucking' in there that was not supposed to be there, but it was enough to give him pause. She knew him. Or rather, she knew who he'd been, who was trying to break free of the chains amnesia kept him in; but he didn't remember her. In fact, he didn't even remember Manuia. He knew her as she was now, a link to his past and something of a trusted friend (if one could consider them such). It became rapidly apparent that Manauia had not had a chance to speak to the woman, to inform her of his condition. She spat more words at him, threats and the assertion that she would not make good on them in the next breath. Another, open ended threat followed in regards to his health — which from the scars that marred his neck close to his throat, and the recent scrapes from his death match with Ragnar he was in excellent health; if one wasn't counting the amnesia.

Another woman soon joined the one already situated on top of him, slighter and with a dark coat of ebony, no doubt recognizing him as Tezcacoatl as the other woman had. He did not remember her either, but was patient and tolerant as she chewed at his face, and ears. Her manner was not truly aggressive, but he would not call her bites necessarily affectionate. Holding no memory of either women made Týrr wonder what they had been to Tezcacoatl. Neither woman seemed as disgusted by him as Manauia herself had been, but he was nothing short of weary. They were expecting Tezcacoatl, and he would have to be the one to tell them that he wasn't him. Or at least, wasn't fully him. In fact, Týrr wasn't sure what he was most days; oft settling for the simplicity of that he was both Amazon and Viking. The ebony woman wore herself down and collapsed, with Týrr still beneath the both of them. Their weight was not uncomfortable, though if the Rekkr had been a different kind of man he might have been smirking at his luck. After all, it wasn't everyday two beautiful women tackled you to the ground and stayed there, and while he didn't particularly mind he was still distracted by Tuwawi despite her absence; and the ebony woman's fiery gaze reminded him of the wildfire queen for a second. Brat Prince, the ebony Amazon addressed him as, commanding that he fix her hurting feet. “Soon to be a King,” He corrected her, and took a deep breath, inhaling the air now mixed with their scents through his black, leathery nostrils, and let it out in the next few seconds. “There is something you both should know,” He gave pause though, weary as to how they might handle the news of his amnesia.

Nocht joined them, adding to the tangle of flesh, fur and paws. If they weren't all slightly different hues, it might have been impossible to tell who from who. They were just a blob of wolf, all blended together as they semi-affectionally greeted their long-lost prince. Nocht went for his ears and Citali tried to extract herself from the situation. She was serious about looking him over and now that he was pinned beneath the dark wolf, she could do just that without him squirming or wiggling out of the way. 

"Hold 'em down, Noctagon," she ordered, rolling to her feet and turning back around to hover over Tezcacoatl. "I'll look at your feet again later." As Nocht was hovering somewhere around his shoulders, the healer trailed her eyes over his back until finally she reached his tail. She wrapped her teeth around his plume and gave it a quick tug. Releasing his tail, she lifted her head and listened for any indication of pain to let her know he still had feeling down that. She paused a moment before roving over his hind paws and then his belly. She avoided his midsection for the moment (as Nocht was clinging to that area) and examined his neck instead. What she found there, made her face fall into darkness.

"What the hell have you been up to?" she snarled, flashing teeth as she placed a paw beneath his maw and raised his head so she could get a better look. She ran her tongue across the pink scars, tasting their freshness. They were well on their way towards healing, but if she'd caught them earlier on she might have been able to repair a little more of the cosmetic damage. Damn it. The queen would have her head for this. She was supposed to have been there. His entire guard was supposed to have been there. Things were not looking good. 

"Soon to be dead," she said with snort. "I could kill you for wandering off. I am not lone wolf material. How dare you make us hunt you down." There. She'd said her piece. In her frivolousness she was really only half listening. If he wanted to be king. Awesome. He could do it when they got back home. Until then, his health was really all she was concerned about and outwardly he appeared to be mostly fine. Damn it. He was supposed to be fully fine. She could not settle for less.

Her lips twitched as she sat down in front of him. Her ears perked, listening as he spoke words that seemed to precede something she wouldn't want to hear. It was like the infamous, "We need to talk," line that made a sense of dread rise in the pit of anyone's stomach. If it pertained to his health, she was going to be doubly wounded. She'd already had one strike on her pride what with those neck wounds. She did not need another mark against her. "What? What is it we need to know?" She snapped the words, her mild irritancy over herself obvious. "If you say you're pregnant, I'm going to rip the little parasite out of you." Ridiculous, she knew, but she was beyond caring.

"You were already on your way to being King, smart one. We've known about that for a while." Why they'd ever left, at this point, she wasn't even sure. He'd been the Fresh Prince of the Rise. Why hadn't that been good enough? The question flitted through her mind, silenced for the moment. As much as she hated their journey, she had more respect for him than that, plus she'd probably already filled the quota of leniency she received from him, bellyflopping on him and all. Hold him down. Sure. She could do that, just by laying on top of him. Yep, not moving. "Sure thing, Cita."

As she lay there, Nocht's eyes closed, her journey weighing heavy on her joints. She did not sleep though, her mind churning, a frown coming to her features. The Prince and they had not been on bad terms during their time together and while he didn't wear all of his emotions on his sleeve... something was off here. She couldn't place a paw on it but... shouldn't he at least... greeted them or something? Express how delighted he was that they were alive at the very least or some shit like that? 

A low sound came from her, ignoring Citali's process as those eyes flashed open again, focusing on Tezcacoatl with intelligent intent. His words rang again in her head, her brow furrowing. The girl, too tired to summon her anger, her irritation, made a sound of pain. Whatever he had to say was going to end up hurting them, at some point anyway. Whether it was under their Queen's rule or someone else's. "Get on with it, please. I'd rather get this over with now." 

And yes. She was still laying on him. Dignity be damned.

Their names were lost upon him, and, as unfortunate as it was when the woman of a coat not all that different from his own color commanded the ebony Amazon to hold him down Týrr had nothing to disprove the fact that her name was Noctagon. It didn't sound very Nahuatl to him but who was he to call out such things? The earthen woman rose to her paws leaving Týrr beneath the ebony Amazon, patient as the medic poked at him. When Týrr felt the feel of teeth against the flesh of his tail, and the accompanying tug he squirmed beneath Nochtli, letting out a sputter of surprise as the earthen Amazon thoroughly invaded any designs he had of personal space. Especially without asking. Her action caused him no pain, only slight humiliation. “I can promise nothing is broken in my body,” Though there were other things that he couldn't promise her, as evidenced by when she discovered the fresh scars from his battle with the Siren Consort. Her outrage was ordained as it lashed out at him in a demanding snarl, though before he could respond to her rough inquiry her paw had lifted his muzzle and she was examining them closer — if the feel of her tongue drawing across the pink, puckered skin was of any indication (and it was very good one at that). “There was a war,” Was all Týrr offered her. He was vague because it hardly mattered anyone. No one cared that Duskfire Glacier had came out as victors when weeks later they crumbled in on themselves like a house of cards offset by the careless toss of the wind. While Týrr was not sure what kind of man (or young man, rather) Tezcacoatl had been but he hoped that it would not come as a surprise to the medic to be told that he took part in it. Whether she was happy about it or not was an entirely different matter.

“That is not what I meant,” He could not be King of a place and culture he did not remember, and anyway he doubted the Amazon women of Coatl's Rise would ever truly recognize him as their leader. Not when “men are slaves”, “men serve but few purposes: labor, entertainment, and procreation” literally being bred into them. It was generations upon generations of thinking: a collective belief that passed from mother to daughter for as long as Coatl Rise had been in existence.  Even Tezcacoatl had, had no real hope of changing such obscured views; and Týrr sure as hell didn't. The Amazon Rekkr did not respond when she scolded him for making them hunt him down, wishing he could be out wit it and confess that he had no clue anyone was looking for him — until Manauia found him and tore his world upside down and set it aflame revealing everything he thought as a lie. Despite the gravity of the situation, Týrr could not help the soft chuckle that left his lips at the jibe regarding pregnancy. About the only thing he could promise her was that he wasn't pregnant — everything else was fair game.

“You have yet to run into Manauia and while I'm sure she'll inform you also, you need to know that I suffered a head injury of some sort, when I was separated from ..from you.  It gave me amensia and I spent months under the impression that I am...was a Viking. I don't remember very much at all of Tezcacoatl or...anything beyond a few names. I go by Týrr now.” Suffering from an identity crisis on an daily basis was no easy feat. Somedays it took all his strength now to break down as he struggled with being both Amazon and Viking as more of Tezcacoatl's life ...more of his life was revealed to him. He desired to keep speaking, to tell them he intended to claim Frostfire Ridge for his own but decided that perhaps feeding them one thing at a time might be the better course of action.

"What? No," she said quickly, adding into her sister's rebuttal. "Males don't actually become king, Nochtli. That's a female's role." Their society was matriarchal. It was, she was learning, a different way of doing things from some of the packs they'd encountered on their travels, but it was what she knew. It was what they knew. It was the way things would go right back to being as soon as they figured out how how get this one's sorry ass back to the amazon.

It seemed both she and Noct were loosing a little bit of patience on this one. And why wouldn't they? They'd been roaming around aimlessly for what felt like a lifetime. Now that they'd found the "chosen one" it was time to turn the other way and wander back home. Mission accomplished. It should have been that easy, but Tezcacoatl, the now scarred Tezcacoatl, felt as though he had something he needed to say. Since when did he feel like he had to ask for permission? Out with it.

And then he laughed. Chuckling at her wild assumptions, eh? Citali's ears flattened upon her head, a snarl escaping her as she threatened him to get on with it. She'd been disgraced long enough in this crazy act of trying to find him. She would not be shamed any longer. She was damn good at what she did and if he wanted to assure her not a single bone in his body was broken, she was sure as all hell gonna double check. 

Her growl steadied itself in her throat. It gurgled there, brewing in its depths as she awaited his explanation. He stared with a name she recognized, causing her ears to perk and her voice to cease as he continued. Then she was right back at it. "Head injury!?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck a duck. The queen would have her head. He was piling up strike after strike against her for failing to do her job and she knew damn well her punishment would be just as severe as her failures. Shit. She was fucking screwed. And not in the fun way.

All the same, she listened to him continue. Her mind roamed, trying to separate what she was thinking from the words he was speaking. Amnesia was a serious mental injury. A change in culture and personality was just as severe. Ugh. Why her? Of all the wolves she could have been assigned to, why this? "I'm still calling you Tezcacoatl," she said, not really giving a damn what he called himself. Then she thought about it and continued, making her voice and words suupper slow so he'd better understand. "I am Citali. Ci-tal-i. This is Nochtli. Nocht-li." She glanced towards her companion before continuing. Again, keeping her words slow and spaced out. "We are a part of your guard. I am your healer. She talks pretty. We," she pointed to herself and the other female, "keep you," she pointed towards him, "safe." Screw it. He seemed intelligent enough not to bother dumbing things down. "THE FUCK DID YOU RUN OFF YOU FUCKING FUCKER!?" 

Forget the head injury. She was going to tear an ear off.

If their society was truly matriarchal, the Queen would never have made him Prince. By doing so, she had caused the eventual shift and fortunately, Nochtli was open-minded enough to accept that without much struggle. She could accept a King and honestly, she'd kind of expected such things when she'd been tasked with this... adventure. Right now, she'd have preferred to have been home but that was no longer an option. This was the only option left and she would roll with it. 

A war. She groaned, knowing nothing good would come of this conversation. Cita responded enough for both of them though, her anger quick to boil while Nochtli simply sighed. "Fuck fuckity fuck. We are sooo dead." She shifted a bit, rolling off the Amazon Prince to lay there as if she'd already been struck. Her companion was already yelling at him, so what else needed to be said?

Pushing herself to all four feet, bright eyes found Citali, then the Prince, settling on him with the weight of her knowledge, resignation, and acceptance of their fate if the Queen ever found out. Almost as if she was a different person altogether, her tone was even, smooth, and gave no room to wiggle. More mature, you might say. "Our survival, our lives depend on your well being. I'm not gonna bite the bullet because the Queen found out about this. I know you're Prince and all, but I'm not budging on this: we're gonna be on you like bees on honey. If you object, Cita might try and actually take one of your ears for a souvenir." It wasn't disrespectful, but matter-of-fact. 

For now, she and Cita both would have to work with this. They could not go back to Quetzalcoatl with this information. The only outcome then would surely be death. "We are going to stay with you. Perhaps at some point, you will remember and we will figure out what to do going forward. Until then, you're stuck with us. One of us will always be nearby." Tail flickered behind her, a heartbeat or two passing before she gave another resigned sigh. "Is this agreeable to you?" Not that she'd they'd take no for an answer. 

Citali's correction of Nochtli only confirmed what Týrr had already suspected, heavily, as Manauia tried to talk him into returning to the Rise even without his memories. Despite that Quetzalcoatl had made him a prince, likely with the hope that he would harbinger in a new era for the Amazon women that they would never accept him as their King. He could not recall with any sort of certainty but he often felt the rise of suspicion that the only reason they respected him was because it had been their reigning and War Queen's command. It was akin to being the Princess but with the wrong reproductive parts, and lacking the full respect that the Rekkr thought they might give a female. 

Citali snarled at his chuckle, though the Rekkr did not give her the satisfaction of flinching; assuming that she was all bark and no bite. This might have been the wrong assumption, but if Manauia was of any given indication Quetzalcoatl was not a wolf that any of them deigned to feel the wrath of. The earthen colored female spoke sharply that she intended to still call him Tezcacoatl. A wave of guilt rushed over Týrr. He did not deserve to bear the name and all associated with it, if only because he couldn't remember, yet he did not argue. He offered Citali a firm nod as Nochtli let out a string of 'fucks'. As Citali proceeded to speak to him very loudly and slowly, the Rekkr's expression was highly unamused as he rose to his paws, free of Nochtli's weight as she allowed him up off the ground. “I said I lost my memory not my brain functionality, I can hear and understand just fine,” He spoke with a slight peevishness. He did not want to be treated like an infant. He was not the boy they had set out on this journey with. He was a man full grown. 

“Did you think that it would not have happened if I hadn't?” Perhaps it would not have, or perhaps it had been ordained when he was growing and forming within his mother's womb. “I know you can all fight well, better than most women but I'd gotten caught up in a raid, following the path I'd chosen for us to take. Regardless, it happened and there is no changing it, nor placing the blame; and as for the man responsible,” He paused because he knew they'd tell Manauia and that she might possibly kill him for not bothering to tell her. “I have killed him. I was going to kill his family and allow him to live the rest of his life suffering but they were not involved.” That wasn't particularly true because Thistle Cloud had known, but in a different perspective it had been she that had confirmed the truth: after he had confronted her. Would she have ever told him would Manauia have never found him? Týrr did not know and did not care to think any further about Ragnar's family. They would suffer and feel his death, as would his precious Bay, and that made them even enough for him.

Nochtli addressed him then, telling him that he would always have one of them near him. The idea of being babysat was unbecoming to the soon-to-be King, but he understood well enough to know despite their pretty dressing Nochtli's words did not allow for a true choice in the matter. “Do whatever you please,” Týrr spoke as he allowed his gaze to travel over her once more, where it rested as he spoke to her in return. “But I am claiming this territory. It is called Frostfire Ridge.” The Rekkr lacked any sort of subtly when it came to informing them, and out of ideas he decided to speak it bluntly, while they were already taking metaphorical blows. “And my mind will not be changed.” Manauia had tried and failed; these two would be no different. “You may join, or you may return to Coatl's Rise. The choice is up to you but you are not tied either way.” Something that he struggled to make Manauia see, or so it felt most days.

Whoops! Didn't take too kindly to that slow talk now did he? Oh well. She'd gotten her point across and was mildly frustrated with the whole amnesia thing. Could have been caused by a number of scenarios and the best cure for this particular ailment was time. That meant a lot of patience, which she was currently lacking, and that also meant returning home would not be quite as easy as it had seemed when they'd first set off on this adventure.

Citali sucked in a breath and held it, letting her lungs swell only to exhale in a huge rush of air. Their prince continued, speaking of things that further frustrated her if only because they were dangerous events that had been completely outside of their control, but should have been. Should have been there. Should have warned him off of it. Should have done a lot of things between the Rise and this barren place, but there was a huge gap in time they'd never be able to recover from.

"No more raids," she said, her words firmly accompanied by a nod when he'd finished. "No more death errands." She lay down her rules and knew full well they'd likely not be followed. If he'd killed as many wolves as he suggested, someone was probably out to get him. Her eyes slipped towards Nochtli, wondering if her shadowed counterpart had caught on to that tidbit. It was something to keep in mind.

Her ear flicked upon her crown when he suggested he was claiming this territory. Well shit. That meant he was determined to stay here. That also meant they'd have to stay with him until they could convince him returning home was a far better option. To top that off, there was the implication that he would be king here, which wasn't a far stretch to their current scenario as they were somewhat at his whim considering his position as prince, but what he was proposing was a completely different ballgame.

"That's not an option." A statement. He might have suggested alternatives, but they all knew better. "If you're staying. We're staying. We are the bees to your honey." Nochta'd put it well the first time. There was no point in trying to say it differently. "We have no choice but to stay with you and humor whatever you decide." They could argue it until they ran out of air, but ultimately they were his. Unless his orders conflicted with his mother's, he had the final say.

She wanted to shake him, to be honest. "If we'd been there... If you hadn't run off, then yeah. You probably wouldn't have cracked your skull and lost your memory. At least we would have had a fighting chance to help you either prevent it, or heal properly after." Citali was the best healer she knew and this one had just... left them. No, there wasn't any changing it, but it still didn't help the feeling that he'd just... abandoned them willy nilly. They never would have done so to him, no matter the circumstances. She trusted her Queen, of course, but now, she trusted her Prince to mostly look out for himself rather than the ones who had been chosen to follow and aid him.

"Great," She snapped, suddenly irritated. "Keep your death deeds to yourself. We don't need any nutjobs running around trying to exact their revenge on you." Her tail lashed behind her, uncomfortable with the pain of abandonment. Had she had the foresight to say no to this mission, she'd have gotten to stay home and... what? Continue her studies? Be stuck in the only world she knew without having a chance to get out and experience the world herself? So much for being some great asset to their Great Prince. She was expendable, and she knew that now. 

Citali spoke for the both of them and Nocta simply agreed with her. They were stuck here with him, with a wolf who didn't care that he'd just left them there. Whether he could remember why he'd done it or not, he still had and that stung. "Since you obviously don't remember, Citali was your healer and I was your Scout and Council." 'Not that you felt you needed us.' Oh yes, she was feeling quite bitter right now, but kept that particular comment to herself. It was of little use right now. "Where is your den so we can shack up nearby?"

Neither of the women would leave him, not unlike Manauia; nor did either seem all that pleased by his admittance that he had brought the death of the man responsible for ripping everything from him, though it was the ebony Nochtli that seemed the most distressed by it. Her words were snappish, though if it was because she truly feared that someone would figure out that it had been he that had killed Ragnar and they would come for him or not he did not know, but having nothing else to go off of this was what he assumed, the concept that she was upset at his...at Tezcacoatl's initial sneak off move entirely lost upon him as a possibility. He could not remember why he'd snuck off, though the simple truth was the only reason he'd been aware that he had snuck off had been because of Manuaia informing him. Without her imparted knowledge he would be clueless — though his obliviousness did him no kind favors in the current moment. The ebony woman's shift in behavior, the almost emotionally wounded demeanor she now carried was little short of perplexing to the Rekkr.

“His pack is weak, nothing more than a shadow of his attempt to replicate Odinn's Cove,” A pack that both of them should have known well, and a subtle clue as to how close to Coatl's Rise he had been during his imprisonment. “Without their Patriarch I am not sure they will even survive,” Týrr offered his theory. Despite his big talk, however, the furrow of his brow showed that he was not so quick, arrogant, nor ignorant to assume that without any sort of doubt. Perhaps the Bay wolves would prove him wrong. “Still, stay clear of them. If you must give them a name call me Tezcacoatl, it is not a name they will readily recognize." Týrr, however, might be enough to spill everything to Thistle Cloud or Gunnar, if he could even remember that far back when the Amazon Rekkr had threatened in hushed tones to end his life.

It had been to scare him, and out of little else but jealousy, something that had been quickly and forever replaced by repulsion and hatred that he had felt for Ragnar in the months leading up to the Viking's death. “I am sorry for what Tez-what I have caused you,” Though his crystalline blue eyes had made to level upon Nochtli his words were also meant for Citali, as well. “Since you both are staying, you are welcome to the caches I have built in preparation for the wolves that I will gather to follow under my rule here,” They were his wolves now, and it was his job to take care of them ...for a turn. He wished to atone for whatever he had caused them, slowly by embracing the Amazon heritage and trying to regain his memories without killing himself (or suffering from a mental breakdown) in the process, but everything was baby steps and he had no intentions of rushing it. “In the very heart of the Ridge,” The Prince gestured in the heart's direction with a regal sweep of his muzzle, ears splaying back for a few seconds before he returned his gaze and full attention back to the amazon women before him. “Are you sure you just don't want to share my den with me to ensure I'm absolutely safe?” The Rekkr could not help but jest with a soft snort leaving his black, leathery nostrils. He was purely teasing them, not minding that they wished to be close. Soon, those pledged to his cause would be aiding in the claim and he would ascertain that they all denned within the heart of the Ridge. 

He spoke. "Not the point," Citali murmured. It didn't matter if the pack was weak or not. What mattered was the intent. Weak things could be manipulated. Weak things could find a new leader. There were survival methods out there designed to build up little mice into dangerous things. She was skeptical for him. He seemed all too nonchalant about the affair which rubbed her fur the wrong way. It sounded more serious than he was giving it credit for. 

"Uhh... What other name would we call you?" She'd already forgotten what he'd called himself earlier in this fancy charade. Tezcacoatl was Tezcacoatl. End of story. Nevertheless, he seemed to segment the idea of Tezcacoatl into one category and whoever he was now into something else entirely. He was quick to apologize and quicker to attempt to make up for it by offering them food. Damn. Her weakness. He was good. 

She scowled at him, still destined to be bitter even though the idea of raiding his refrigerators sounded like a pretty good idea. A less good idea was him trying to rule over this barren wasteland, but maybe he'd play at king for a little bit, grow bored, and they could go home after that. Her gaze turned towards Nochtli. They'd have to chat about this later at length, but until then they were destined to humor his every whim. 

"Fine. Play at it." She said, agreeing to this charade. "But. As severance. You will relinquish your den to us until you can properly excavate a site for the both of us." It seemed like a fair trade off. They'd had to walk all this way on tired feet. He couldn't expect them to dig a hole for themselves. Nope. He'd been lying around storing up shit in his hide-y holes. Sounded like he'd been practicing. Another den should be easy.

Her eyes narrowed, the fire in them flashing as she held in her desire to verbally flay him. She could, though she had more respect than that. He was her leader. That and she was not ready to say how she felt over all of this. They could have just left after he'd abandoned them, could have turned around and gone back home, admit to the Queen that they'd lost him and take their punishment. They could have done so. They were Amazons and the idea of punishment, while it was not enjoyed, was something they took with silence and grace, with strength. But no. They'd returned to him, to aid and to support, but it had turned out they'd only been forgotten. 

He apologized but long ago, the female wolf had learned to put stock in actions, as words could prove nothing. They were simply words. Even so, the Tlachinolli wolf did not know what he could have done to show that his apologies were true. Once more, her friend spoke and Nochtli said nothing to counteract the Medic's words. She simply watched him, silent at the moment, ready to be done with this particular reunion. She wanted to get away, to lie in the rays of their Sun God and let him impart patience and understanding upon her. Boy, did she need it. But he had not yet dismissed them and while she was emotionally hurt and angry, Nochtli knew the boundaries could be pushed no further. Not today, anyway.

This seems like a good place to wrap this up! :-) It can either be archived as is or one more post from each of you. It doesn't matter to me! <3

The ebony Amazon, Nochtli was silent, allowing Citali to speak, strange to the Rekkr whom had considered that it would be the other way around. Though oblivious to her inner turmoil, it did not fall beneath Týrr's notice that her fire colored eyes bore into him. He did not comment at Citali's question, figuring it likely wasn't worth his while to repeat what he called himself these days to her when she was adament about calling him Tezcacoatl. This was likely for the better, he considered, assuming that it was not anything that Ragnar knew (for Týrr hadn't known it himself), so Thistle and her look-alike child would not know it either and therefor would not be able to identify him by it. It appeared that there was some advantage to having your memories and everything precious stolen from you; though the whole situation was still grim. Brow furrowed at Citali's offer of a trade that he would give them his den until he could dig a den for them. His chest puffed with indignation. After all, he was no slave for them to order around, lest they forgot in their time away from him. Týrr's lips parted to argue, but all that came out was a disdainful huff. Crystalline blue eyes leveled upon the medic, pupils narrowing in the shimmering depths of his irises. It had not sounded as if she were giving him much of a choice.


The idea of having his bachelor den taken over by woman made him want to protest. After all, it was his bachelor den and it felt like a total invasion of his privacy ...not that he had anything to hide. It's purpose was simply for sleeping, but even so. It was his and now he had to surrender it as if he were nothing more than a common slave. He was a King. Or he would be. “Fine,” The Rekkr conceded with a glib smile, tight as it was. “I'll show you the way.” He spoke in a command, leading the way into the heart of the Ridge, pausing only once to make sure they were following before he pushed forward.