Wolf RPG

He found himself restless. Unable to sleep under the pervasion of thoughts, the alpha male rose out of his bed beneath the boughs of a thick spruce. He sought the borders of his domain, and soon his paws wandered past them, steering away from their neighbors toward the pine-forested plateau. He had been here once before, a quick scout, but this time his presence had more purpose as he slipped between the trees. He took his time to carefully assess the scents here.

Diane's sleep schedule had been effectually wrecked. She had been too jittery to sleep her first night in the midst of Porcupine Ridge, and too exhausted to sleep for a normal amount of time in the days thereafter. It explained her night-walking. The quiet padding through the wide territory in a vain attempt to familiarize herself with every cold tree and stone. She supposed after a while it would all seem less distant, but the recent pain she was withholding (avoiding) made her doubtful.

Her acclimation wasn't yet a success, but she was adjusting quick enough; determined, perhaps, to overcome this trial. She glanced up at the sky—cloudy with small swathes of visible space. She had spent so much time stargazing in her youth, that she felt as if she recognized dome of the things she could see.

Is this really the same sky?

She crossed a recent scent of Tagg, and a bit of circling confirmed that his direction led outside of the Ridge's territory. Diane hesitated once she had reached the intangible line of possession, but her curiosity and desire to express her explicit gratitude drove her forward.

He had descended onto the plateau. There were hidden scents here, whispers of a place once bustling with pack activity, and she marveled at this fact in eerie familiarity until she found the place where the shadows solidified into one virile frame. "Sir Tagg," she chuffed to alert him, coming to stand several feet to his left, with her short, thick tail waving against her hocks. Having confirmed his status now, Diane had reverted to the respectful titles of her homeland, where Kings and Queens of Cove took seat.  

"Do you always travel out at night like this?" she asked, recalling how he had found her in the wee hours of the morning.

He had the noted the scent of mule deer last time he had been at the plateau; and this time he noted it again. Strong and fresh, it told him that the deer did not merely pass through the pines, that they lived among them. That was his purpose, that was what he wanted to know. Not too far from the ridge, and accessible without passing their neighbors, the plateau could serve as a backup if the ridge's prey ever became scarce. He would let us wolves know, and hope that it was calm their concerns.

He lifted his head from sniffing around the base of a tree as Diane approached, greeting him as sir, a title he did not require but appreciated the respect behind. "Not usually," he said, welcoming her with a wag of his tail. "We recently had another pack move in beside us," the scorn was plain on his face. "Some of my wolves are worried they make take prey out of our mouths," he shared, bringing his newest member up to date on pack business. "I am not. The ridge has many moose, goat, and sheep. But I figured they may be comforted if they know another food source is not far. Here." His thick muzzle swept around the pines, beneath which the tracks and scat of deer lay.

He eased her fear of intrusion, drawing Diane nearer with his accommodating mood. The hour, it seemed, was irrelevant but he had reason to have descended the slopes, and the lonely Cove wolf found herself admiring his dedication. And again, she pointedly ignored how much he reminded her of the values she had experienced at her birthplace.

She followed the motion of his muzzle, stepping around the nearest tree and scenting the buck that had sharpened his antlers and defecated here, hours past. There were other trails in the immediate area too, a small herd, Diane guessed. 

"A neighboring pack sounds stressful.. Even with a solution for food," the girl mused, gold eyes glittering in the dark. She wondered why he had allowed the near border-sharers to settle there, but she was semi-aware that Tagg had a pacifist mentality. A sort of "live and let live" philosophy. She had a hard time seeing him as violent unless it was necessary. 

"You're worried then," she observed, feeling a need to smile for him, but still unable to emote even as she felt the urge. "Is it about the choice you've made to avoid battle? Because I think you're doing the right thing," she clarified after a moment. She didn't seem the sort to have a mean bone in her body. "Unless our neighbor is troublesome, I suppose."

Diane was largely a naive sort, or perhaps sheltered is a more apt term. Intuition had kept her alive where shelter had failed.

Stressful was perhaps a fitting word, but not the one he would have chosen. For the black wolf, the situation was more of an annoyance, an inconvenience. He wanted nothing more than to slam a heavy paw into the side of the head of the dim wolf who chose to settle so close.

"You're worried then," she said, and faced her with a quirked brow, thinking she had misread something in his words. But he tipped his snout down as she expressed support for his choice. "I don't see the point in risking injury or death over nothing," he explained as his shifted his gaze to look intently between the trees. "Right now, we have all we need at the ridge." He hummed, turning once more to look at her. "I'm just looking out for my wolves. It's my job."

There was concrete behind Tagg's tone. He believed in his choice, even with the doubts cast in by some of the collective. She followed his gaze into the hazy midnight, frowning in thought. Diane did not share the same worries as the other, but then again, politics had never exactly been a concern for her before. Nor had she ever been a part of a society that sought to keep other wolves at bay. Weren't they all of the same ancestral blood? The Cove encouraged newcomers—the fish had always been overly bountiful—and they never wanted for anything. Peace was the principle; besides the occasional battle against sea lions, sharks, and inland predators that encroached. 


She had never before considered a shortage of food, but the prospect didn't frighten her. It only made the young Kappa eager to find a solution. Eyes like ancient gold continued to scan to the darkwoods. She didn't need to affirm to him that he was doing a good job, or making the right choices. He had a good enough head on his shoulders without any of her ignorant advice or anyone else's opinion.

Finally she withdrew her gaze from the shadows, perching them instead on the tall inkwell beside her, his eyes, like a morning storm, watching her casually. Diane felt suddenly sheepish, reminded of how far out of her element she was. She looked away, pulling her ears back as she did so. "I want to help feed everyone, Sir Tagg, but I'm afraid I haven't had much practice with prey not native to the coast... I don't want to be a burden here," she painfully admitted.

"I won't be a burden here." Diane turned to the Alpha with a redetermined look.

He appreciated the determination in her words, and hoped she showcase it in the days to come. Several members had already come and gone after making unfulfilled promises to contribute to the pack, and he hoped he would not have to count her among them.

"You don't have to call me Sir," he said with a soft smile before he continued. "You won't be a burden as long as you try. You can learn to hunt new prey, starting with the small game: hares, birds, porcupines, marmots... we have plenty." He paused, gesturing with his muzzle for her to follow as he resumed his walkabout the plateau. "There are other ways to contribute as well. You can help patrol the borders, and keep our marks fresh especially along the northern border nearest the new pack."

Taggarik dipped his head to sniff at a deer trail beaten into the snow, switching the topic as he did so. "Do you have any aspirations for the future?"

Diane gaped at Tagg as he rendered "sir"  a moot term in his presence. But it was only for a moment, as her jaw snapped shut quietly, having realized that the required customs of the Cove had no dominion here. Her Alpha certainly didn't act like a traditional Cove king, but he was a leader of his wolves—indubitably making him the same. He comforted her further, faith and advice trailing from his dark mouth, leaving her with a veritable feeling of invigoration.

"Oh, yes! Birds! I'm an excellent bird-catcher," she said, boasting rather suddenly as she bounced on stouter legs to follow her lofty Alpha. The zealous moment passed, and she cleared her throat quickly, remembering herself as Tagg smilingly continued to offer her alternatives to providing food. "Patrol the borders?" she echoed worriedly. "I don't think I'd be a very helpful defense if I ever came across any trouble. I've never been a fight before, Sir—" she glanced at him sheepishly, ears falling back and then rising again. "Tagg," she amended carefully, testing his name on her tongue without the appropriate title.

He asked her about the future, what she saw or had planned—and Diane was (again) caught off guard by the way Tagg's remarkably innocent queries could eat away at her insides. She remembered very clearly what she had always thought her life would be like. And it was nothing like this. "Well, I—uh, I kind of... I don't know," she bubbled, losing some steam to her trot as they followed a well-worn deer path. "I used to. I'm just not sure about anything anymore. I know I don't want to die, though. That much I've learned about myself."

She boasted of bird-catching abilities, and he smiled down upon her. Grouse frequented the lower reaches of the ridgelands while ptarmigan roosted near the top; she should find plenty opportunity to feed the pack between those two species alone. But she worried about border patrol, and he lifted a paw in. "You'll be fine. Just howl if you see something." She had a pack now, and did not have to stand alone.

"Well, that's a start," he quipped as their paws pressed into the deer trail. "What did you use to aspire to? Family? Rank?" He was curious, what had she hoped for herself before he found her curled beneath a bough?

The Alpha had a way of reassuring her, though she didn't think of this as a trait that was explicit to her—it just seemed to be the type of wolf he was. Diane nodded slowly, imagining herself howling in a pinch, and having a drove of pack companions fleeting to her back. The thought of that power was briefly intoxicating, and her mind turned to leadership, wondering if that felt even better than the mere prospect of fellowship and support. In the end, she couldn't see herself doing any successful leading...

Her nighttime companion pried deeper into her past, though remained on the relatively safe subject that dealt with her specifically and not where she was from or what had happened. Diane mused in fond silence at her former aspirations before deciding to answer. "I like pups, so I always thought I would have a family of my own—though honestly I would have been happy just to babysit," she was smiling without knowing it, gazing at the trail ahead of them, trotting just behind Tagg's shoulder. The expression felt familiar, welcome, and warm on her face.

"I also wanted to be a Provider," she added before divulging; "Which is basically a hunter who does extra runs for those unable to hunt for themselves, like the injured or elderly... but I was too small to be appointed." Her smile faded without her realizing it was gone again.

Like most young wolves, she too aspired to a family. He suspected as much. "I hope to have pups of my own soon," his brows pinched at the last word, and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. "So a caretaker would be helpful. You should know though, that I am not opposed to my subordinates having a family, so long as they ask me first. I cannot have two young litters on the ground at once." It would be too much strain on the pack, and he selfishly wanted to make sure that his pups, when they should arrive, had the best possible chance at life.

"Size has nothing to do with hunting," he reassured with a smile. "Some of the smallest wolves are the fastest and most nimble, masters at the killing bite. Even if large game is not your thing, you can focus on birds, fish, and small game. We'd be glad to have someone that makes sure everyone is fed."

Wolves were familial creatures by instinct, and she imagined herself acquainted with the young children of Tagg and his mate (who she assumed was Capriccio) when the time came. It was fond thought, that was quickly flustered as the dark Alpha mentioned that she could take a mate and have a family herself if she asked first. Her ears fell back, and she gaped after him openly, erasing the astonished look before he could spot it. She had never thought of having a family outside of the Cove or what life was even like beyond the sands and breezy grass—and she still had no vision beyond the present moments she found herself in.

Everything was too different now. No more rolling waves, and crumbling earth, and moody shores. Now it was all rolling hills, and unyielding mountain, and stoic trees.

As he explained his view, it was the first time Diane thought of her home without also thinking of the tragedy that had befallen it. "Size dictated a lot of things in my birthplace—and every job needed to be done. Wolves my size or less so were assigned Diggers," she talked, not noticing the blossoming of her true nature as she opened up to Tagg, the wolf who had—for all intents and purposes—saved Diane's life. "We made living quarters were properly re-excavated each day, because if the winds brought the dunes in too high against the dens, then wolves could become trapped and suffocate. Or not be able to find their den in a pinch sandstorm."

She felt that this must sound very silly to the mountaineer, but this had been her sweet little life. Den-digging and swimming, bobbing for fish and avoiding sharks. Her father had shown her deer trails before in the forested areas along the coast, but she had never actively used their tracks before, let alone in the manner she was following Tagg in now. Though she imagined that she was being quite useless on this food-source trip, she tried to convince herself that she wasn't bothering him with her chatting.

He had come out here alone after all.

He was satisfied with what he had seen of the plateau, the signs left behind by the deer that called it home. So when Diane stated to share with him some details about her previous home, he slowed his pace and then lowered his haunches to the ground, with his tail folded against his flank. He sat facing her, offering her his attention and interest both.

He found the division of jobs according to a wolf's size curious; in fact the division of jobs at all was curious. Under his reign it was left to his wolves to do as they felt was needed, with hunting and patrolling pretty much the only tasks to tend to presently. Each wolf could dig a den for itself, or shelter beneath their own pelt under an open sky.

He hummed quietly in thought. "Makes sense," he said after a moment of consideration. "But I have no need to dictate jobs here. The pack is pretty good at making sure things are tended to, and everyone is free to find where they fit and practice the skills they are interested in."

He grinned at her. "You can dig dens for folks if you want," he teased.

She came to sit before him, tail flat out behind her, still in her comfort. The shadows didn't seem quite so long in that moment, and her nightmares were but distant memories, separate now from her reminiscing on the alien customs of The Cove. Of course, she didn't think of them as strange. That was home, it was all she had known. Still, her thoughts somehow avoided souring, and she took a deep breath, relaxing further. "I guess it was just too many of us to let us decide our own jobs. I'm not sure—King Thror never explained that to us as children. It all just worked, and everyone was too content to argue. Well, I was at least. We could do other things, in our free time, but only as long as it didn't interfere with our main tasks."

There hadn't been much trouble back home. Sharks, troublesome sea lions, and sea hawks... Oh, yeah. And the occasional tsunami.

Diane found herself smiling at Tagg, ears perked and teeth glinting in the darkness that became cooler as a breeze picked up around them. "No, I'd rather not, thank you." Her tail gave a few quiet thumps. "I think I'm going to pursue what I want now, if it so pleases you." She imagined herself being able to chase prey down the thinnest of ledges, and jump the jaggedest ridges littering Porcupine. A fantasy, really, but after discovering the true horrors behind the ever-moving ocean, she was sure she could handle a stiff-backed mountain.

In a bout of confidence, she tilted her head at the black wolf. "Does your name refer to the game 'tag'?"

He had grown up in a pack that never allowed more than a dozen adults to call it home; the same as every other pack he had known and the same way he ran his own pack. It was a comfortable number at its peak, numbers enough to prosper but not too many that the ranks were disorderly and the resources stretched thin. Tagg was not a wolf that fixed what was not broken, and so he continued the tradition.

He nodded as she told him she would pursue what he wanted. Indeed, that did please him, and he flashed her a grin that would have said as much.

"Oh, no," he chuckled. "It's short for Taggarik. It is from my mother's tongue, ah, some language of the far north. It means to be dark, the darkest." Something to that effect. He gestured with a cant of his head toward his own shoulder. "Black fur, you know. My brothers and sisters were cream and tan." It was a relative on his father's side that granted him his coat.

"That's a shame it's not named after the game—it was one of my favorites," she chirruped, and then paled at him suddenly. "Oh! But of course, I mean Taggarik is a really, really  handsome name," she amended clumsily, recovering through a mirthful smile and the thumping of her tail that was like drumming laughter. "Hmm... Sir Taggarik," she tested in her most noble presentation voice. "A very nice ring to it, right? I think your mother named you well... literalness aside."

Diane shrugged, thin muscles rolling beneath the flat gold and grey fur on her shoulders. "Is your family on the Ridge?" she thought to ask.

"You flatter me too much," he smiled, waving a paw to playfully encourage her to stop with the endearing and amusing banter. The subjected shifted then to his family, and he paused, looking to her. It was several moments before he answered. "Yes." The wolves at the ridge were his family now. "But if you mean my parents and siblings, then no. I came here to have a family of my own. It would not have been possible if I had stayed where I was born."

He turned around then, satisfied with what he had seen of the plateau, and ready to return to his own domain. "Come on, let's go home," and he said this with a warm smile as he gestured for her to follow him back to the ridge, to home, to the family that was being built there.

As Taggarik explained his familial situation, Diane was left to ponder her own. She hadn't left her family willingly as he had, but they had ended up in the same place regardless of the circumstances that had led to it. So were the Ridge wolves her family now? Was she supposed to replace the wolves she had been born with for the wolves who had taken her in during her most vulnerable moment? She was looking down at her feet when the Alpha mentioned home.

Automatically she thought of her hole-in-the-ground den in the midst of Porcupine Ridge, and it surprised her when the beach—as she still considered it her true home, despite her fear—came as an afterthought. Unsettled by her inner monologue, but meek all the same, she smiled at the coal-black male and nodded readily. "Yes. Let's," she agreed, trotting after him.