Wolf RPG

He came from the south-east.

His was an unremarkable coming, suitable for an unremarkable wolf. He passed into the country of mountains with a passing glance at their geography, for mountains had never appealed to him. The ground was too uneven underfoot and danger lurked around every corner. Farstep had crossed mountains in his travels, but never had he entertained the thought of living on one. Instinct told him the ground was safer for hunting and sleeping, and he heeded instinct.

His interest was drawn by the sprawling meadow on this eastern side of the mountain chain. He ranged toward it, pulled by the promise of level hunting grounds which, unhindered by rolling hills, was of good use to any wolf. Panting lightly in the heat of the day, Farstep found his way into the field of wild flowers and lowered his nose to the ground to sniff for signs of prey.

He had zero expectations or hopes for the outcome of this day, just like every other day in his life.

Fox went south today, hoping to calm her mind and her body in the meadow. It felt like life never slowed down. Ever since her arrival in the creek, things had come at her one after another. First, Lethe's death. The cougar attack, Jinx's departure, the coyotes, and most recently Tortuga. Not to mention the loss of Haunter, who seemed to have no intention of returning to the creek. It burned, whether she liked it or not, and Fox had been on the lookout for a replacement. She would need somebody to pass on her bloodline come next year, and she was one picky lady.

A figure ahead caught her attention, and Fox, curious as ever, loped toward it. She slowed when she realized it was a wolf, and even more when she realized it was not one she knew. Observing him for a moment, she decided to approach cautiously, spine lowered between her shoulderblades. Her ears were erect and pointing forward, and her nostrils breathed in and out forcefully, trying to grasp his scent.

Farstep had seen a great many things in his short life. His name came from his propensity for wandering great distances, though it was no true name. It was a name that he felt in his soul, for no wolf had ever called him by it, and he had not the words nor the care to speak it aloud.

Suffice it to say, Farstep had seen sprawling meadows of wild flowers. He spent only a moment gazing out at their soft, fresh buds before ploughing carelessly into them. He spared no thought for the tender stalks he snapped with his paws nor the beauty broken in his wake. He cared only for the scent of hair brushed haphazardly through them.

That is, until he became keenly aware of a pair of eyes watching him. It was a prickly sensation on the side of his neck that alerted him, but initially he ignored it and continued tracking the jack rabbit. When it ceased to pass, the dog glanced up and caught sight of Fox standing cautiously in the distance.

Though he had no reason to be uneasy, the male nevertheless fixed his sights on her and hunched his shoulders forward. With pricked ears and unwavering eyes, he stared back.

His scent was singular, and Fox relaxed. One wolf could only do so much damage, and Fox could handle herself in a one-on-one situation. There was no need to call for any backup; no need to make things ugly. If anything, this was a potential recruit that should be observed and judged of his worthiness. Fox was a wolf of few words when it came to those she did not know, and even fewer when the other did not speak first. Farstep fit these criteria to the T, so the yearling remained silent and watchful, stilling herself five or six yards away from him.

In an effort to display that she meant no harm, Fox licked her lips and shook her coat. They were both clear, nonverbal signals that were meant to calm herself and those around her. It was essentially a silent icebreaker. Then, she stood still, waiting for him to make the next move.

His was the language of physicality, so when Fox displayed comforting signs, Farstep relaxed as well. Perhaps she was a lone bitch wandering the world in search of a mate to begin a pack with, posing him no threat at all. In fact, she was like the carrot of opportunity dangling in front of his eyes, an offer much too tempting for the primitive male to pass up.

Farstep let his ears fall back softly, though he kept his mouth closed despite being relaxed. He began to pick his way through the flowers toward her, intent now on assessing whether they would be a good match. She was attractive, not in the way a man viewed a woman but in the way a wolf viewed a prospective partner. She carried good genes if her coat and health said anything about it, and she was small, which Farstep liked in a female. In his animal mind, the male was dominant always, and some of the large bitches present in his homeland had pushed their bounds too much for his tastes.

His approach was bold and straight-forward, and to any wolf from a land as primal as his had been, its message was very clear. It was in every disperser wolf's blood to find a mate and stake a claim to both the female and the land they chose. In this, the loner was no different, though his ambitions were rooted in animal desires rather than in any emotional capacity.

To Fox, the act of choosing a mate was right along the same lines as her nameless counterpart. She had always sought strength, loyalty, and intelligence (in that order) when seeking prospective matches for herself. When next year brought spring to them again, she would take a mate, or one would take her. As of yet, Haunter had been the only real contender, but he had abandoned them, and so he lacked one of the three prime traits that Fox was seeking. Loyalty had to be earned in time, but there was plenty of that between now and when her body would be ripe for the taking.

As the lone male approached, Fox's tail twitched in anticipation, anxiousness washing over her in addition to a variety of other instincts and thoughts. She was reminded of her first encounter with Njal. Their meeting had been a silent one, and it was Njal she had wanted to begin with. Alas, he was taken by another, and Fox liked Tuwawi a great deal, so she did not seek to disrupt it. Not only that, but they were the only couple who could produce children this year, and they had certainly earned their right. Next year would be different, but they would cross that bridge when they got to it.

Her lungs expanded and contracted quickly, taking in his scent more fully as he drew near. She gathered that he did not smell of sickness, which put him on the "potentials" list right away. And yet, Fox was not that easy. Once he got within a few feet of her, she spun around and took a few quick bounds forward, a yip urging him to chase if he really wished to get closer. It was a test to see how interested he really was.

For a moment or two, the dog thought he had succeeded in securing her interest. The fiery bitch stood still, beckoning with her presence alone and drawing him in like a moth. Yet at the last second, Fox spun and danced away on nimble feet. The sudden motion caused Farstep to falter for a second, but soon she threw a playful sound over her shoulder. He huffed a response, lips parting to soften his expression into something almost playful as he picked up the pursuit.

Farstep retained his same initial pace, giving Fox the opportunity to stay ever ahead of him. If he caught her, there was no doubt about what he would do to her... Though that certainty lasted only as long as it took him to pass into the space she had occupied. The scent that lingered on the air and brushed the wild flowers tickling his legs was that of an unreceptive female, which ordinarily would have told Farstep to quit his chase.

However, he was a cunning animal, at least in some way. She was not receptive now, but she would be within the year. She was dainty, quick, and seemingly coy. His expression changed from that of a male wanting nothing more than to clasp her to his belly and claim her as his to that of a male merely coveting something... But still he advanced with the same easy pace as before. He wagged his whole tail in slow, sweeping gestures, as though to tell Fox he was interested but not as aggressively or possessively as he had been before.

Her silent acquaintance accepted her offer to chase, and the yearling was not only enthused about this, but also a little bit surprised. It was true that she still had some months before her body would be ready to produce children, although she was aware that her position at the helm of Swiftcurrent meant that she was desirable. Perhaps her youth was in her favor as well, for she could bring whatever male she wished many sons and daughters in the years to come. Fox fully intended on making her choice wisely and picking one who would last a lifetime. Not because she hoped for a romantic partner to last through the ages, but because it was necessary to keep her legacy strong.

Even her time with Haunter had been practical. That did not mean that she hadn't grown attached to him in some way, but he had been a large, strong, and imposing male. He would have made fine children with her, but his departure from the creek had soiled any chance of that happening. Fox would only chose a partner who was in it for the long-haul. What good was a mate who ran off and abandoned her with tiny, helpless children?

Farstep followed, and Fox continued along her initial path for a few seconds before slowing and allowing her body to fall into the thicket of wildflowers. The flowers softened her fall and smelled quite wonderful, despite the yearling not having much appreciation for such things. Relaxed now, Fox pushed her body along the ground, rolling onto her back and wriggling around playfully. Whatever apprehension she'd had about the male had washed away, and now all she wanted was to acquire him.

He watched her plant herself on the ground and his hungry strides increased in length until he drew alongside her. She wriggled herself in the flowers, releasing their heady aromas and her own as well. His tongue swept over his lips as he stood stiffly beside her prone form, passing only a moment in waiting before lowering his snout to inspect her more closely.

He began at the corners of her mouth, probing and licking some form of submissive acceptance of her presence while also establishing what counted to the primal beast as a claim. Slowly, mindful of her reactions and readying himself to dance away at any moment should things turn ugly, the male began to trail his nose down the side of her face toward her neck, and should she allow him, he would inspect her breast and belly as well, sniffing for any sign of illness or injury in the female he had selected.

Fox was receptive to his licking and sniffing. When she'd had enough, she gently nipped the air in his direction and righted herself. Cautiously, though less so than before, Fox stepped toward him and began her own physical exam. She used her nose as the probe to check for anything that seemed wrong with him, but could find nothing. He was a male nearing his prime, and Fox knew that he would be snapped up by somebody else if she did not get him first.

Once her exam was finished and she was certain he was a healthy specimen, she nipped at him again, though this time it had even more of a playful light tone. Rumbling and ducking her head to encourage him to follow her, she took a few steps in the direction of the creek, wagging her tail and egging him on.

Though Farstep took this acceptance as an enormous ego stroke, for the scent of many lingered on her pelt and suggested she was well-regarded in her pack, if not the ringleader herself, he was almost timid when she clipped her teeth on the air. He pulled back in a quick little two-step motion, instinct governing his need to give her the space she required, but she was quick to close the distance between them to conduct her own investigation.

Ego aside, Farstep was not an inherently confrontational wolf, so he was quick to roll onto his side and then his back when she made her intentions clear. It was within the right of the dominant wolf to inspect any subordinate in this way, a fact that the lone male respected deeply. However much he yearned to stand at her side in savage possessiveness, he was deferential to her. His primal nature offered him no choice, but if there had been one, he wouldn't have changed a thing.

Inspection complete, the blazing red bitch began to stalk away, and this very image was enough to pull Farstep onto his feet. He needed little egging on, for his brain could not comprehend the potential for other interests in either party. He himself was singularly wired for lifelong commitment, so the bitch he chose to follow and pursue, albeit the first one he had come across and non-receptive to boot, was the one he would always choose. She need not entice him, for Farstep overzealously already believed she belonged to him.

A fatal error on the lone wolf's part, but one that his strict adherence to instinct alone caused him to completely overlook.

He followed, and Fox knew she had him right then and there. What she did not know was that they both thought that they had claimed one another in different ways. Fox continued toward the creek with Farstep on her heels — her steps light and bouncy. He was a fine specimen, and she was glad to bring him back to her home. He would make a good addition, despite the fact that she lacked knowledge of his name. That kind of thing, while helpful in some cases, was of little concern to her.