Wolf RPG

After his voice descended upon the river, he was at a loss for what to do. The silence encroached upon his senses and Njal fell to pacing along the river's edge, moving a few feet only to turn and travel backwards - then turn again, to slowly trail along the stones. He found a small grove of trees and hunkered down amongst their roots for one night, and then two; rousing himself only to do brief patrols, and to breathe the air which was slowly becoming imbibed by the perfume of other wolves. The man could only assume it was the scent of his pack-mates; but he bristled each time a new scent crossed his path. Njal returned to his roost at the same time every night, hoping that this predictability would help lead someone to him.

For now these wolves were voices without faces. The sooner he met them, got a bearing for the kind of individuals they were, the sooner he could decide upon his path. The urge to retreat was strong within him, even on this chilled evening; as he came trotting in to view of his trees, his head low and features intent on trailing an ambiguous smell. He passed by some tracks — fresh, but not canine in shape — and Njal paused to briefly look over their qualities. The creature that left such steps had four toes, and a large fifth digit; long claw marks creased the surface of the soil, and the muddy trail led off in to the snow. Njal's stomach gurgled but he ignored it, growing disinterested in the straying path of the badger which he dully identified.

Njal slid in to the worn disc of crushed grass which served as his sleeping station. While he was growing tired of this wait, he did not groan or sigh in disdain. The wolves were out there somewhere and they would find him; he had heard the call and joined it readily, and if they wanted him, he would be waiting.

He half-dozed beneath the trees, with his mind on other matters than this more important venture. Njal did not think about the possible home he could make here, not at all. He stared half-awake towards the water's edge, which was a short distance away, and thought of his wife. He imagined how much she would enjoy the life of a plains wolf, for they had both enjoyed Kindred. That had been where they had met, and flourished in the ranks. This creek pack reminded Njal of Kindred very much - although he did not realize how very different they truly were, yet.

Such thoughts rolled through his mind, and he ignored his senses. It wasn't until a flash of ruddy red crept in to his view (really, flashing in the corner, since Fox was ambling about) that Njal's head lifted and he sent a pointed gaze towards the oddity. It was as if his thoughts of Proudheart had manifested. The stranger was remarkably similar to his wife in colour, although they were far more reedy than the compact she-wolf he had devoted himself to. Njal felt his spine bristle softly as silence followed the stranger, weaving circles around him that were unsettling; but he caught their scent, and knew that they were a creek wolf, like him. The man relaxed a little, but lifted his front end up in to a seated position regardless, and kept his dull, tired eyes upon the stranger.

He did not know what to say to them, just as they couldn't fathom words in return.

The girl was silent. She regarded him in the same manner that he watched her; reserved, cautious, but ultimately amicable. They did not exchange words but there was a certain calm about this situation. It was not like in Kindred, where individuals were constantly titling themselves and popping out of the woodwork to be noticed; and for that, Njal was thankful. It was pleasant enough to spend a few silent moments with a pack mate, even though the had never before met.

Just as the man was about to descend once more in to a laying position, he noticed the twitch of her batty ears. The expression that creased her face caught his eye next, and then the dry blood atop her skull. He was up and moving in the next instant, perhaps a bit too quickly, but his nose reached for the tender places upon her face which boasted of her battle with another. Concern lit upon his boxy features as the metallic scent of blood slipped in to his nose; Njal gave her a curious little once-over, as if to silent last her what happened, before taking a quick pirouetting step around her skinny body, to check for further injuries.

They may not have met before, but Njal could recognize a fellow pack mate; and if she was injured, it was his duty to aid.

She was spooked, which was something he should have expected, but then she calmed just as he did, when Njal returned to his prior position. There did not seem to be too much damage upon her body, although she did hold the scent of strange wolves - the kind that did not hold a crisp and watery scent, like those of the creek. Was she a new arrival then? Had she been pursued? Njal's ears flitted in different directions as he pondered, but he froze when she took a bold move towards him. The feeling of her nose against his shoulder made him chuff softly - a bit surprised, but not at all worried by the gesture.

Njal turned so that he could sniff at her fur, while she had her face so close to him. He nosed around her hip, and easily overtook her position with a few strides, so that the two strangers could get to know each other's scents all the better. The man grunted softly as he retreated from this venture. His head lowered along with his front half, and with a playful nudge of her cheek Njal invited her to play a game of tag - swiftly administering another nudge to the girl's own shoulder, where the red fur was forced to mingle with the grizzled striations of his snout.

He pulled away in the next moment, absently slapping at the ground beneath with his great big paws. Playing was something he wasn't so familiar with, but it was a way to get to know another pack mate; so, why not try it once in a while? Granted, the boorish man would probably take things a little too far in the end.

The bark of the girl's voice was enough to rile something in his aging bones, but he couldn't pinpoint what, exactly. He ducked as she lunged, he side-stepped as she followed, and for a few moments the two creatures moved in tandem. Njal focused on administering a nudge or two with his square face; first with his blunt snout, then with the side of his head; there was a bit more oomph in the motions than there needed to be, but Njal wasn't aware. He didn't know taht his strength was truly that great, nor that the spindly girl might not withstand his attempts.

Regardless, it was entertaining. Njal nudged her, ducked, wove in a manner that was completely graceless, and the adrenaline from the experience was quite exuberant. It was like hunting, but not. They weren't about to kill one another or try and take down some unnamed beast for the sake of the pack; this was for them, which was a concept wholly unrecognizable to this creek wolf in particular. Njal let out an instinctive croon - a rumbling that wasn't territorial or even aggressive in nature, a sound which he had never heard himself make before. He was having fun, go figure.

He stomped through the thinly layered snow, gallivanting as if he was years younger; Njal didn't feel particularly old, not yet, but his years were going to catch up to him one day. The beast grunted and pounced, he retreated, pounced, spiralling in reverse and then charging ahead again. Playing was pretty easy. It sent a warmth through him that was nearly as invigorating as a true fight, and as Njal tapped the youthful new companion, he began to take things a little too far. His nudges became a bit more tough, his snapping teeth baring more often, and the low rumble of pleasure became a more harrowing, deep, true growl. Njal charged one more time and smacked the girl across the side of her body, hard, with the brunt of his chest; then, with a more-than-firm grab of her fleshy shoulder, he had her pinned. Instinctively the man's tail raised to promote his dominance, even though such an action was unnecessary.

The boxy man's breath raised from his bared teeth in thin layers of fog, which twisted around his hold upon her shoulder; he was breathing heavily for someone who had not exerted themselves so much. Perhaps it was the adrenaline? Regardless of the reason why, Njal was holding a subordinate, a pack member, as if they were an enemy. Her red fur mingled with his steel coat, it pressed in to the wet snow and the unnamed girl allowed it. She did not squirm or fight him as he held her, which was probably a good decision - as riled up as Njal was, he needed to be reminded that this was a game and nothing more.

The flick of her tongue helped in that pursuit.

He didn't quite know what to do when the warmth of her saliva slid across his snout; Njal looked down his nose at her, going cross-eyed briefly, and then pulled away as if to sneeze. He gave a small cough as his eyes squeezed shut, and he adjusted himself so that he could look upon her. The red girl was free from his grip and he looked both sheepish and confused down upon her coiled body. How idiotic of him to get so caught up in their silent game! He did not speak an apology but there was a sweeping sound as his tail dropped, and he murmured to her with his teeth finally hidden away.

The lick was nothing to him; Njal was not the kind of individual who would see anything suspect about a small behaviour such as this. He was dense, and perhaps a bit too dumb to realize any actual connotations. With his ears flicking back against his thick skull, Njal reached towards the girl with a wiggling nose, hoping to inspect her, to make sure she was still all right after his overzealous reaction.

When his inspection made clear that the girl was intact, he huffed a small sigh of relief. Njal did not want to damage the girl when all they were doing was playing. He still felt guilty for his reaction, but as Fox began to return the prodding with her own nose, he became distracted from his feelings. Her cold nose was a bit of a shock to his sensitive hip - not to say he was old and that it hurt, but more that the chilling wetness upon her snout was making him realize how ticklish he was. Wolves didn't often get tickled. He squirmed away from her touch after the second round of her poking, making a small murmuring noise that was almost laughter; something that he held back.

Njal was about to return the favor, to turn this back in to a game, but then the sound of a howl in the distance caught his attention. It wasn't an urgent sound, but he was alert. The man's head raised in a prompt manner, eager to lift and join in the howl just because it was instinct, but he did not; instead, Njal watched the land in the direction the sound came from, and then began to stride away from Fox - his limbs taking short strides, slow strides, and he gave the red girl a side glance as if to say, duty calls. His tail batted once before he turned upon the empty land, then picked up speed to abruptly leave his new playmate behind.