It was not an individual decision but rather attention to an evident need that saw the Nessaquati woman end shoulder to shoulder stride with her kinsman. Between the wet breaths that writhed in his chest and the many other ways that the mass on his neck slowed him -there was no need for added comment as to their new margins. Instead, the convenient silence between them was maintained as he headed them from the woods and out towards more adventurous ground. Initially, preoccupied with the newness of second position, it wasn't until several miles had been taken that Khetiquet saw the difference for what it was. Exchanging thought between the veteran and the task that he had set them on, she was challenged to remain obeisant. The intent of their venture had been suited to circumstance several times before but this elective wrong turn did not sit well with the Nessaquati woman at all.
However, rather than further drain him with the stress of posting a defense -Khetiquet stuck to the smooth and almost indifferent attitude that had seen her satiated in an existence which had become increasingly precarious. Following her elder without word until he mentioned rest, it was only then that she allowed a small sound of un-avenged frustration to break her. Yet, the kinsman was listening -to this and other subtle signs- all of which amassed caused him to rise and leave as soon as his companion was out of consciousness.
Some time later Khetiquet awoke to the realization with a sober heart. It had been on the brink of every stifled conversation for weeks now -this regrettable finale to their tribe. And so, she did not dissolve into hysteria but rather the motions of provision. Turning her mouth towards the bight of midday she carried a traditional verse of mourning for the walking dead. Unbothered when the male did not rise to the occasion of joining his final rite she instead allowed the moment to pass with restrained emotions. Picking a direction on whim thereafter, she went towards it and whatever it fated with concession.
Shades of twilight blushed the vault by the time that the female was where she thought she ought to be. Well off from the actual barrier -as she need not straddle it to understand and value its intent- her brooding eyes pierced the gathering haze of late evening. Of course she worried about the likeness of the wolves beneath the banner that flooded her senses but with nothing left between herself and obscurity she dared not hesitate. With more zealous sounds than those made for the lost male, the last of the Nessaquati revealed herself to the wolves of Porcupine Ridge.
Hiya :)
The sun was giving way to the moon as the black wolf weaved between the thick trees of the forest, descending onto the unmistakable border trail. All his wolves had a share in its making and upkeep, but it had been most heavily defined by himself, his alpha female, and his subordinate-without-words. Their paws had pressed down the snow the most, and their scents were strongest among the cocktail of claim.
Tagg had heard the call from the lone female, and he responded with a quick howl of his own to let his packmates know he was nearby and attending, though he did not forbid them from joining or intercepting her first if they were closer. His fluid gait was quick and efficient as he ghosted down the trail, catching sight of the mixed coat of the female before he caught her scent; a coywolf.
He lifted his tail, allowing the full length to sway easily as he approached with his head up and ears forward. His expression was relaxed, and there was no tension in his muscles. He did not speak, but held a question in his gaze.
The final veins of coral sunshine had begun to dim when the stranger made his advance towards the Nessaquati woman. In the instant that she first noticed him, he looked almost like a bruise upon the snow through which he marched for the absolute blackness of his coat. Perhaps if she had seen his eyes the female would have thought him more spectral but, she knew better than to affront him with such a suggestive act.
Instead, she made herself humble before him. Turning her face at a hard degree she also averted her eyes while simultaneously collecting her head closer to chest and tail between her heels. For all ostensible purposes she might have appeared whipped but there remained a steadiness in it that was entirely Khetiquet. Just as she had remained with her kinsman until the end she would pursue this sudden new investment to hilt. Pride be damned.
She knew the game. She knew the rules. She was the sort of wolf he expected at his borders, not the last few he had received who trespassed and thought his dominance was offensive, threatening, or misplaced in some fashion. He responded by waving his tail and drawing his mouth into a subtle smile - not that her respectfully averted eyes would notice.
He seated himself then. By adopting a casual and relaxed posture, he signaled that her submission was no longer required. She had shown she knew her place, and he was satisfied. "So," he hummed. "What's your name? I take it you're looking for a home."
The male's words may as well have been cooed for what they did to the female's heart. The weight of recent events had been tiresome to say the least, and Khetiquet was in great need of some small success to rest her faith on. Batting the end of her tail between her heels she still did not look to him but rose her head the small amount that he had sanctioned.
"Wasos," she said while nodding. Of course her kinsman had warned her against insisting on her native tongue but of all things Khetiquet could not bring herself to abandon it now. In her mind it was the sliver of solid ground that remained beneath her feet as she reached into a vast and unknown abyss.
"I am Khetiquet... Nessaquati," she informed in a breath. It was impossible not to marvel at how quickly the relevance of her title had declined.
Wasos. He wasn't sure what that meant, but took it with her nod as an affirmation that it was a home she sought. There was little other reason for a lone wolf to be at his borders, willing to submit. "Hm," he hummed again with a small smile. Her name was foreign, eloquent, but not too difficult for his tongue at least. "So where'd you come from, Khetiquet? You can relax," he encouraged, for she had yet to fully unfold herself from her humble posture, and though he demanded respect of his wolves and those at his borders, it was not his custom to be too severe or intense.
His muzzle reached forward slightly as he drew in her scent; nothing particularly noteworthy upon her coat. It was a welcome thing, after dealing with the gray male who reeked of smoke.
The exact origins of the Nessaquati was an abstruse topic that few amongst them ever broached. There were aged theories of some brand of the supernatural but for the last several generations they had been defined by the various styles of their leaders. "The east had become unfavorable so I led my tribe towards new herds but, they were too old -and stubborn." Although the words were somewhat bitter there was no malice in the female's voice. The decision to abandon their home had not been easily made.
"You are too kind," she said with the usual seriousness to her tone. Turning her face only moments after he did, she allowed her muscles to relax some before extending her own nose in his direction. Of course she was still sure not to stare but she did study the details that existed all around him. "...I was a less... tolerant chief than you." The memory of her nature and former success lent a much needed smile to the agouti female.
He was expecting a commonplace answer along the lines of 'the north' or perhaps 'the east'. Instead, she informed him that she had been a leader before coming here, a less tolerant one no less. This piqued his interest, and his ear swivelled and his brows lifted. "Oh?" he said. He knew there were others more severe than him, aggressive beyond their borders and even within them, but it was not in his nature, which was governed by a calm logic. He had requirements that needed to be met and that he would demand by force if he had to, but outside of that he was generally easygoing.
"How so? Why?" He was genuinely curious. In fact, had she given him a generic answer he would have welcomed her and showed her the ridge, but he was not incline to let the topic go just yet and so delayed his acceptance.
It had never occurred to Khetiquet that there were other ways of being aside from what she was accustomed to. The thought was bracing to say the least -imagining what sort of quirks she would have to welcome in mingling with unknown wolves. Furthermore how would they tolerate the stoic Nessaquati woman as strange as she would might seem to them? "My wolves are base," she said with a certain fondness. "Still dutiful of course but our thoughts are very... straight." Her look became somewhat distant as she considered the best example.
"When my aunt took to an outsider in the spring, I did not accept her back in the winter" The vanilla furs of her brow gathered in an odd expression as she paused. "I did not gain joy from denying her but.. I felt no other way was right." Blinking finally, Khetiquet shook her head before adding a final thought. "You came here personally -which I would have done myself- but... you are much warmer than I would have been." The beginnings of regret blurred the edges of things for a moment as Khetiquet fought to remain grounded in the conversation. However, it was difficult to keep hold to one's wits when flung so violently from the frying pan and into the fire
He saw nothing unjust in the way she described her reign; it was possible he would have made the same call in that situation, but it was ultimately hard to say. He was a creature that worked largely in the present, but did not discount the needs of the future. His survival, and by extension the survival of his packmates, was of utmost priority, and anything and everything was weighed against the logic that best supported their preservation.
"You've given me no reason to treat you coldly," he stated. There were a several wolves already that likely would not consider him warm after he turned them away. One even bore the marks of his teeth.
"But do not mistake my willingness to offer someone a chance for weakness. Come." He swept his muzzle around as he turned, inviting her to walk at his side as he headed in the ridge. This was her chance to follow, to become pack, if she accepted.
"I'm Taggarik, and this is Porcupine Ridge. Bet you won't be able to figure out where the name came from," he jested as they (presumably) moved into the territory.
Last post for me, assuming she accepts, welcome to the pack :)
As the wind fingered through the hairs along her spine Khetiquet felt an unusual warmth all around her. She was too tired and beaten to feel relieved but the sensation was something similar. She sensed that her arrival had served some sort of entertainment to the male -given the questions that he had pressed with a curious expression. Yet, for Khetiquet it had only represented a much needed chance to rest her threadbare nerves and regain the confidence that had fled from her with recent failures.
Khetiquet had arrived in Porcupine Ridge for the base needs of survival but time would see her rise to bigger aspirations. "Thank you... Tetellark," she mentioned. Following the male's direction after that, Khetiquet drifted along at his side until a time when their courses deviated.