Her trail had been old, and missing in many places, but The Hunter was not to be deterred, and his talent as such was not to be taken lightly. Warbone found her mount— a smoky creature with a more volatile power than he thought any of them knew— and he approached it with decided caution. A fire boiled deep in the earth, and he wondered at the mystique's choice of residence. Though the ground was not soft or heated, and the peak was not vibrating in warning, he wasn't a wolf fond of an earthly fixture that resembled his temperament in any way. As steadfast as it was unpredictable.
From a tactician's point of view, he saw the worthiness of the location and the strength of its defenses, despite the uneasy feeling it all gave him. He avoided the geysers, oozing through the areas untouched by scalding water as he made his way to the thick of Thuringwethil's scent— her borders— and he avoided hunting, though the slight edge set to his teeth warranted him to feed. A need that arose when he wished to quell any disquiet with his body. He didn't call for her, instead traveling along the marked line of superior and subordinates, as he wished to survey the length of Drageda borders from the outside (and in peace for as long as he could) before he was found.
They had returned from the bolder in one piece and without the trace of the other wolves to worry about. Their scents had faded and while the worry remains in the back of her mind, she doesn’t feel the threat looming over their head. Where the wolves had gone, Thuringwethil didn’t care about. They just weren’t there anymore. War and battle has never been a foreign concept to the younger leader but if blood did not need to be shed, even with wolves battle ready to protect their homes, she would keep it that way.
Thuringwethil doesn’t allow the security of Drageda to fall short because the wolves were gone either. It has been mostly quiet since her return but the patrols remained, if not increased, and with tension between her home and the pack to the south, she doubts it’ll change any time soon.
While she moves the curve of the land, a scent catches her attention and a surge of adrenaline courses her veins. It had been sometime since she last seen the male but his presence does not surprise her. The lack of a call puts her a little on edge and she’s unsure just how long he’d been lingering on her borders before he’d been noticed. No other scents in the area, either, so her pace temporarily quickens until he comes into her line of vision. Thuringwethil slows into a steady walk, calculating her steps as one foot moves in front of the other.
A quick check in her posture is taken as her tail tightens its arch and her head remains stiff above her shoulders. Ears cup forward as she moves, watching the large male upon her approach.
He saw her coming, blinking the inkblot into fine, postured focus as she drew languidly nearer. Warbone did not loosen his legs, but he did take tangible notice of her rank by tucking his ears and keeping the bow of his head set just above the square of his shoulders. The wolf regarded her blankly, his eyes searching her body rather than her face, so as to avoid the repercussion of a direct stare. When at last his eyes did meet hers, it was only to say: "as promised." Then his gaze redirected, head swiveling sideways to observe something distant, and his stance was held loosely at the ready, as if preparing for some sort of command from the crowned raven.
She had offered to have him stay before. Would she again?
When she approaches, he does not submit in such a way of a wolf begging to join. Thuringwethil had invited him to join and her offer hadn't been taken right away. As promise, she had not saved him a spot in her reign, but there is room to house the large male. She'd seen what he's capable of doing and his strength showed promise and she found herself surprisingly eager to see how he acclimates to her new home. Their future largely uncertain, a pack that has been brimming with enough mouths to feed, and adding another wouldn't but that much strain on them.
However, a future with promise.
He speaks then, flicking his gaze to hers and her fur bristles around her neck. She even offers a flash a teeth but the connection is for perhaps a second and he's looked elsewhere. A confirmation he held to his word, accepting his role beneath her. "Come," is her only command, urging him to cross into her territory.
His eyes flashed at her command, his body moving first without his thoughts confirming the action. The Hunter crossed the Stygian queen's threshold, bending to brush his nose briefly across the definitive tracks made there by herself and her wolves. He caught many scents not hers, and committed them to memory. His packmates. It had been a while since he had considered any wolf a mate of his, in any fashion. And though Thuringwethil was young, Warbone saw more to her than he had anyone else in crossing these lands. She could benefit from him too, a wolf overly versed in the laws of survival, settled starkly into the figure of a male within the range of his intense prime.
His steps slowed as he took to her side, his head held low, level with the blades of his shoulder. Warbone snorted, swinging his head as he turned his teeth, in friendly acquiescence, towards her lean shoulder, fondly pulling the guard hairs there as he silently urged her to take him into the thick of her lands.
Thuringwethil can’t deny it surprises her that Warbone falls easily in place next to her, his posture low enough to satisfy her. A sidelong glance is given when she feels the tug of her fur between his teeth. A slight flash of her own is given, more affectionate than warning, and she nudges his nose away for him to follow. The landmarks to show the male are few, but important, and she has no doubt they will grow in time. Warbone would be good for the future of Drageda and a dark smirk appears, mostly hidden on her muzzle.
“My queen’s name is Gyda,” she informs as she uses an easy, relaxed stride to their first location. Gyda is important when it comes to Drageda but a knowing look toward her newest recruit proves he is to answer to her, even when she mentions: “you are to respect her too.”
Gyda had taken her reign by force, which did not invalidate her leadership, but the commander lives inside of Thuringwethil. A power she can’t deny and Drageda’s legacy will be at her own paws.
For a long time, Thuringwethil is quiet, but as she approaches the ledge where she gathers her wolves, she glances back. “There is a pack south of here. We’ve not had the best start,” she explains, remembering stumbling upon Esaro chasing a rabbit in her valley that is spread out below the mountain. She returns her glance, first downward at the deadly decline—a fate sealed for anyone that might take the leap—but she looks along the stretch of the river. “We are not to cross that river, and neither are they,” she explains, voice hardened and serious. Patrols on this side of the mountain have doubled since the kill order has been placed, watching for one of them to slip up. They Phoenix wolves won’t be mistaken by who rules this area.
Gyda. He thought the name with mild resentment. Yet another wolf he would have to submit to. But if Warbone had any grievances, he kept them to himself. He probably didn't complain as Gyda was mentioned to be female. He had little issue with being subservient to the opposite sex— the gladiators of Tall Timbers did not typically engage females in battle by law— but that didn't mean extenuating circumstances didn't exist. In all honesty, he didn't truly see a need to act otherwise, and considering that he did believe Motherhood was one of the most important aspects of a wolf's life, he found no qualms with serving women. His brief acrimony ebbed just as quickly as it had appeared.
He kept pace at her shoulder, arriving at Drageda's meeting ledge with tentative curiosity for the area's scents. He drifted from her side, nose low and eyes scanning. When she spoke again, he turned, picking his head up so that he might follow her eyes out towards the river. She explains an agreement between them and the pack that lay below the riverborder, and he nodded once. "Understood." The second law he need remember.
Licking hos chops, Warbone swung his large head away from the ledge, angling it forward towards Thuringwethil. "I am going to take the rank highest among your numbers." He didn't need to say leadership was excluded, and he wasn't asking.
Thuringwethil doesn’t linger on the topic. She’s outlined the agreement between Phoenix Maplewood and he seems to understand, even if his expression remains flat and hardened. Slate eyes scan his features for a second longer, shifting her weight to leave the ledge behind.
As she turns, he offers something unrelated to what she’s explained to him. A knowing smirk appears on her features but she tucks it away before it’s seen. Thuringwethil doesn’t acknowledge the statement, picking up her slow stride to the next stop. From there, she moves to where she’s houses Storm for the time being. His time in Drageda is numbered, soon to be over. With the strain of a full populous on the mountain, an extra mouth to feed is beyond her concern.
Eventually, the dark girl leaves Warbone to his own vices and a basic idea for what they stand for.
Wrapping up! I hope that's okay. I imagine there's plenty in the future.