The swarthy beast swayed from side to side in a steady lope across the forest floor. His long legs carried him with purpose. The trees overhead did not seem to house him well – they had been pillaged by insects – but the sun had set over an hour ago and his inky pelt melded with the darkness as though he was crafted for it. His mahogany gaze was set on the destination ahead. The coast.
Skellige was born on the rich and lush lands of the Warsaw Islands. The dotted ocean lands were coveted by four nearby packs, though the Cairn male’s family had held fast to their territory with a vicious grip. Had the attempted murder of his sister Ksenia been a success, Skellige would have been the next chosen to rule their land. Nevertheless, Ksenia had not died and Skellige had been banned from his home. So the savage had set out to find another.
Though he was many miles away, the silver-ribbed hulk of dark fur could scent the brine of the ocean and the wind carried with it a promise of a new future.
With the displaced first inhabitants of the northern taiga settling neatly into Silver Creek, there was little work left to be done. The borders were heavily marked, a site had been chosen for the pups to remain at deep within the barren wood, and the pack was acquainting themselves with the land. Its Alpha female was acquainting herself with the surrounding areas, and that was how she came to notice the prowling beast in the wood adjacent to her own.
There was no drone of locusts to accompany her as she slunk through the trees, ever alert for signs of prey she knew weren't likely to be around, and yet the wood felt charged in a similar manner. That was when she caught a glimpse of Skellige, a broad black wolf with a rolling gait, through gaps in the trees. No doubt easily spotted herself, the petite Alpha female loped parallel to him yet almost out of earshot, placing herself between him and her pack. The prickle of her hackles told of her discomfort with his presence, and the full lift of rounded ears was a clear sign of her station. She had no interest in engaging him if he didn't engage her first, but Saena dogged Skellige in an effort to reassure herself that wherever he was going, it was away from Silver Creek.
Saena’s pale coat caught the eye of the hulking black beast, and his pace slowed just slightly so that he could crane his neck to leer at her. She had peculiar markings painted beneath her eyes and soaked to the backs of her ears. Vibrant and cautious blue eyes. She was not repugnant.
Skellige turned his attention away from her for a moment and set his gaze ahead of him. Holding his gait for a moment longer, the swarthy beast slowly began to increase his speed. His eyes darted back and forth from the woman who held his lope and the terrain that stretched before him. Without warning, the hulking black creature swerved sharply and slowed his pace to a halt. Breathing deeply through his nose, and now facing the direction of the pale woman, Skellige waited.
The leer was unsettling and Saena's nerves were unseated. Skellige even from afar was a large beast, and she was quite small in comparison. Saena had to remind herself of her redeeming qualities: that she was a hunter and a scout, and could easily out-range such a creature if she wanted to or had to. That, and she was an Alpha. She was the fiercest of her comrades, if not in size and strength then in personality. Skellige was large and his red gaze as it briefly touched hers was unnerving, but the Redleaf would not let herself falter.
His slow-plodding figured disappeared into the trees again and the quickening thud of paws announced that he was swiftly on the move. With a lurch of her heart at the idea that he sought to get around her, Saena moved to keep pace, and managed it until Skellige ground to a sudden halt and turned. Saena's paws took her several steps further than the hulking black wolf but she wheeled as well, and met him with perked ears and a slightly crinkled snout.
"Keep moving," she advised him. Even his aspect was intimidating, but she held her ground, firm in her conviction and pride as an Alpha wolf. She thought briefly of what it might take to rein in such a large wolf and earn his loyalty, but it was just as quickly dismissed. Likely a wolf of his stature was beholden to no one but himself—possibly an Alpha in his own right—and it would take more than brawn to convince Saena that a wolf could benefit the Creek. That, and she was almost unwilling to take in a wolf that exuded the kind of air that Skellige did, lest he attempt to take her position from her.
The smaller wolf seemed to carry herself with a purpose. Her intentions to keep pace with him were fueled by something that Skellige did not fully understand. He didn't much care to. Her innate desire to keep her pack safe from his haggard presence would have been impressive if it weren't for the inky male's lack of reverence toward pack life. Their borders did not phase him. This female, driven by her need to protect her brood, did not phase him.
Her frame allowed her to take speed and agility over his looming figure. Her muzzle was crinkled in warning and her blue gaze had a protective glint. A wicked twisting of his mouth showed how impressed he was with the woman's effort. Nasty yellow canines peeked from beneath the dark leather of his lips.
Her warning struck his ears and Skellige canted his head to the left with an expression of mock surprise. Then, with narrowed brows and a quick snap of his teeth, his fur rose along his spine just slightly before he uttered a gurgling "no."
Saena's eyes drew down to the glint of stained ivory below Skellige's lip, but just as quickly darted back to his bright red eyes. All things considered, matching his gaze was somehow steadying. Skellige wasn't the first large wolf Saena had come against, and certainly not the first wolf who refused to budge, but her tactic in the past was to call her pack down upon them. That plan still lingered in her mind, hovering near at hand in case he proved to be difficult, but she didn't want to rely on it this time. What kind of an Alpha was she, that could not hold her ground unaided?
None. And she would never flee again.
When Skellige snapped his jaws and made the air ring with the sound of his teeth coming together, her hackles flared with both alarm and irritation. There were dozens of woods, some even in this region. As she chanced a quick glance beyond Skellige, she knew there was nothing in this one that made it different than the others besides the neighbouring wolf pack. Skellige had no compelling reason to stay here that Saena could think of, which made her think sharply of Sebastian, who had pulled the same incomprehensible stunt near the Rise. In Saena's eyes, it had been arrogant of Sebastian, and so too was it of Skellige. Yet unlike back then, Saena made no aggressive move toward the larger wolf this time, having long since learned from her recklessness. Instead, she held her ground, legs slightly splayed in preparation of moving should it become necessary, eyes boring intently into Skellige's own, hackles flared and lips pinched authoritatively. Beneath her breast, her heart thrummed nervously.
On the islands where he had been born, a show of bravery like the one this pale female was demonstrating would have been applauded by his pack. Her eyes locked with his, and he could not help but to allow a disgusting grin to crease his dark muzzle. This blue-gazed stranger was not from Warsaw, though. She did not know that Skellige had been born and bred with the intent to fight. He had ravaged larger wolves than her. And with the famine that plagued the lands they walked on, she would make a decent meal to tide him to the coast. The inky savage had no qualms with living from her meat. It was a hunt or be hunted world.
Lowering his skull so that his muzzle sat just six inches from the ground, the swarthy beast held his ground. She had no authority over his person. The fur along his neck and shoulders stood wildly on end. He flicked his flush-colored tongue across his lips. The interest that he had held for his present company had since vanished. She was merely an aberration. So long as she did not stand before him to block him from his path, she was unconsequential.
"Keep to yourself, cur," he snapped to the pale woman.
Skellige's stance shifted fluidly into one of a wolf ready for a conflict, and Saena's grip tightened on the ground. She could put up a good fight but he was heavy with muscle, and she laden with the fat of motherhood. The plague would soon trim it away and leave only hard, chiseled muscle and bone, but for now her teats sagged with milk and her figure was still plush from giving birth. Even as she stared him down, summoning all the courage and brazen nerve she had as an Alpha and as Saena Redleaf, she knew she could not match him blow for blow. She could deal him a number of injuries and scars, surely, but she would fall to him if they challenged one another.
She slipped back a step, but maintained her hard stare and posture. "Move along," she repeated, or you'll see who's the cur. There was still her pack, she could call upon them. She'd be dead by the time they arrived... but perhaps they would put Skellige down as well. A thought to keep in the back of her mind, she thought, but only if required. She'd tasted enough of war and battle for a lifetime and standing down even marginally was better than picking a fight she could not leave alive. Anyway, Saena wholly expected him to go on about his business and leave her and hers alone in exchange for being left alone.
I always thoroughly enjoy my threads with you. <3 You can reply again before archive if you'd like? If not, we can tuck it away.
They were at a standstill for only a moment. Skellige was a proud wolf, and he knew that – if given the right motivation – he would be able to bring the pale woman to an end while maintaining some injury. She reeked of puppies. So much so that he could taste the milk in his scent glands. The silver-ribbed brute would not allow himself to fall from the ocean, though. If she were to call others from her pack on their location, he would only stand through a short fight before he would find himself pulled down by their efforts. He was a warrior, yes, but a tactician first… and this was not a fight that was necessary to have.
She repeated her first command to him and with a quick snap of his teeth and a snort, the pitch-coated wraith pointed himself in his intended direction and cast the woman from his mind. He was certain that her pale blue gaze would follow him until she felt comfortable returning to her pack. The stranger was not a concern to him any longer, though. His pace was set and his heart yearned for the clashing of the sea.