Wolf RPG

The mountains were the bane of his entire existence. The higher he went the more off-kilter he felt, from the pain in his paws to the dizziness in his stupid head. What goes up must come down though. This was the only thought that kept Dingo going. He huffed and puffed despite being young and fit, and when he came upon a narrow plateau the view did little to fix his mentality. From atop the vista he could see trees, rocks, cliffs — and he groaned audibly, his yellow bottom slumping down upon the nearest patch of smooth rock. Oh, come on, he complained to the air, and hoisted his lithe body back up to continue the hike. Couldn't I just slide down the mountain or something? Traveling slip-n-slide style was vastly more appealing to the lazy boy than the alternative, but he knew there was no point in getting frustrated. The only way to get down off this god-forsaken hunk of granite was to move his ass.

Pallas had claimed the Peaks, in the small way an insignificant and minuscule lifeform might lay claim to portions of finite space. She was a squatter through and through, depraved in some ways by the sudden absolution of solidarity. It was not often a wolf visited her small sect of the world and when it did she was very alert, though she was often hard-pressed to reinforce her paltry claim. As she heard clattering below and smoothly strode to investigate, her posture wore a look of quiet indifference. That was until she saw the culprit and mistook it for a dog. Last time she had encountered one, she had missed out on an opportunity to eat it. She was not necessarily hungry, but if there is one thing Pallas was, it was avarice defined. "I can push you." She called suggestively from above, scanning the rimrock for possible paths that might prove dangerous enough to make him an easy meal.

A voice from above startled him, and his tail shot straight up. But as he turned to regard the voice and its owner, the boy chilled himself out. Or maybe he was just experiencing altitude sickness and chose to accept that he was hallucinating to some degree. It couldn't have been that bad - but the woman above him looked wraith-like, and he wasn't sure what to make of her.

Dingo looked away from her for just a second — staring down from the plateau one last time as if considering her offer — and then shook his head, taking a few hasty steps backwards. Nahhh, I'm good. His short tail swayed pleasantly at his backside, and he turned a friendly grin towards the odd woman, curious of her and not as afraid as he perhaps should've been. Do you know how to get down off'a this rock though? I'd like to stay in one piece.

As the male whirled around and lifted his tail, the Stormthorn responded in kind with a violent flare of her hackles and swift uprising of her tail. Quick as her reaction was, the male's posture was quicker: it seemed she had simply taken him by surprise. His own body-language seemed to soften and while Pallas was not about to be friendly, the hostility behind her posture resolved. Pallas was disappointed her offer had been rejected, but it was to be expected. Not many would agree to 'opt out'.

She slung her front limbs over the rock's face and skulked into a supine position, her head still held at a degree that suggested superiority. "Jump." Was her unhelpful solution to his troubles -- God if the female was not the most insufferable company sometimes.

He expected some banter and when all he got was a simple suggestive word, Diego stared blankly at the white girl as if she had suddenly turned in to stone. Uhhhh.... right. He murmured, wondering what exactly had made this lone wolf so passively murderous. It wasn't like he was serious about sliding! 

I could jump, but I was hoping for a less... detrimental... (wow, a six dollar word from a ten cent mouth) method of escape. His brow raised expectantly but Dingo did not know what would be suggested by this wild thing.

Pallas returned the look, her expression somewhat deadpan in return. She had been serious, despite the absurdity of the suggestion. Dingo's reply was met with the same nonplussed expression. Idly a single ear flicked as if she were processing his choice of words. Her paws draped in the air. Pallas still peered down at the wolf, having no inclination to move from her spot. As the wind shifted and blew his scent uphill she realized he was not a dog, and her stomach growled in disappointment. Would it be so bad to eat a wolf? It wasn't as if there were a wealth of cuisine options bounding the Peak. "Leap instead?"

This was going nowhere. The boy huffed and shook his head, letting a tiny laugh bubble out of him which might've sounded forced (it was pretty poorly obvious), and Dingo decided to let the topic die off. Ya-know what, its nice up here. Good view, good company, he chased that blatant compliment with a small eyebrow wiggle and plastered a cheesy grin on his yellow face, then continued: Maybe I'll stay. Got any grub up here? Not -- not real grubs though. She seemed like quite the literal beast, and the last thing the boy wanted was a belly full of worms.

The pale wolf's ears pulled forward, cupping the stifled laughter that trembled nervously from the tawny male. She did not soften her gaze, instead electing to look past him as if she was simply enduring his company (though it was the reverse that was true). Down in the plains a small band of geese moved in honking V formation -- and further still, the rocks tumbled way to blurred and indecipherable lines. "No." The Stormthorn replied. It may have seemed harsh, but it was true. Unfortunately for Dingo, even if she had possessed food he would be hard pressed to pry it from her.

She was by far the worst hostess he had ever met. Clearly she did not want company. With a shrug he attempted to appear indifferent, but caught the shift of her eyes, and so he watched them — trailing where they looked until he spied the geese as well. Hmm! Yummy!

Aw, I was hoping to have a party up here with you. He called back to her, but his attention followed the wandering geese far below; for all intents and purposes, Dingo's expression was cat-like with his pupils dilated and everything — looking more like a house cat which had just spotted movement. It was probably just the altitude sickness.

Without further ado, he began to jaunt down the mountainside. At first Dingo toiled alongside the ridge, but when it became clear that the natural path swept away from the targets he forged his own — essentially following through with Pallas' suggestion of leaping off the mountain. As he sprang on, tumbling but staying relatively upright, the boy crested beyond a cluster of sheer boulders — but his voice carried back, as he shouted jovially, See ya never, toots!

Maybe if he was lucky he could snap a few necks, fill his belly, and get off this damn mountain!

Pallas lacked the ambition that Dingo did, and as he followed her gaze and announced his departure she could only offer a shrug of her shoulders in rejoinder. She was half-tempted to follow, if only to see if he broke his neck. His taunt was met with a stiff upper lip curl, but she made no attempt to go after him. Instead she shifted her vantage by pulling herself up the upright face of a near boulder where she could follow his progress better. If she was lucky, maybe he'd break something. Hungrily she watched his progress down the mountainside and would continue to do so until he disappeared from view entirely or broke his neck.

The geese could sense him coming. It wasn't for lack of trying, obviously — but Dingo had never been a particularly somber individual. His knack for causing a fuss often led to his belly remaining empty, but he always found his way. This time, the geese scattered long before he reached them. It took so much concentration not to lose his balance and careen down the hillside that the birds were gone when he arrived, a chorus of distant honks being all that he had earned for his trouble. 

Dingo circled the area for a minute or so, sniffing at the ground or at the trees, and eventually gave up. He cast his head back to try and spot the pale woman on the ridge, but as soon as he did that he lost his balance — vertigo taking hold of his brain and making him foggy and confused. He stumbled in to a patch of trees and was gone, with nothing but a rustle of the branches (and a distant expletive) to show the way.

The pale she wolf craned her neck, peering down the rimrock where she had seen Dingo last. Her ears strained to capture any sound yet all she got for her efforts was the slow lull of silence. The geese were long-gone, having been tipped off well in advance by Dingo's blundering approach. She watched the spot where she had last seen him for a few minutes and when he did not re-emerge she rose and picked her way up the mountain, back to the small densite she had secured as her own.