His howl did not go unanswered: soon another wolf materialized, white-pelted like him, but much larger. The stranger questioned him in a flat, brusque tone, and Phocion resisted a flippant flick of the ear in response--surely this man could have summoned a better attitude for a guest? Instead, he gave him a small, close-lipped smile in return, his voice soft and measured when he spoke.
"Phocion," he introduced himself, with a small bow of the head. "I saw this place in the mountains and was. . .charmed by it. I came to explore it, then found scent markings at this border. Does your pack claim this land?"
He still wasn't sold on the idea of giving himself to a pack that wasn't his own, that didn't follow the Truth. He had come to Teekon hoping to recruit, to lead, not to be sucked into another situation like Silvertip. Phocion had been younger then, more eager to please and easy to sway. Not quite so, now.
But winter was in full stride, with the solstice just several nights away, and it would do him well to become a part of something bigger than himself. Alone, Phocion seemed destined to feast on small game and carrion; his small, lithe frame could not take down a large beast alone. With a pack, he would dine well, and keep good company.
He stood, his gaze neutral as he waited for the other's response.
Phocion is based on *Alexander* Hamilton so this is fun
The white-furred male warmed a bit, if only slightly, as Phocion spoke, and responded back with a name of his own--Alexander. And indeed, this Alexander did claim the valley. . .and he had said we. A pack lived here. New beginnings. New friends.
"This place is special," Phocion responded amicably. He tilted his gaze to the sky. "The stars and moon led me here." Eyes back down. "I am correct in assuming you are the leader of the wolves that call this place home? Then, with your permission, I, too, would like to call it home."
What are your skills? He remembered well his entrance interview into Silvertip's pack. It had. . .not gone well, to say the least. But he had been young, then, and cocky. Now, Mikros had accepted him without question, without asking him to prove himself loyal, and worthy. But then, his tribe to the south were special. They had taken him in at his lowest, and rarely asked for anything in return, save kindness and camaraderie.
"My talents lie in the sky, with the moon and stars, I must admit," he said truthfully, "but I can hunt, I can patrol, and I am loyal, as well." Well, apart from abandoning Silvertip all those seasons ago. Best not to mention that bit.
sorry for crappy short post
He had heard this song and dance before. As a young man, Steady had asked him something very similar. With great gusto, he had built himself up to be a great warrior, a terrific hunter.
But Phocion had learned that life was too complicated for constantly having to prove yourself worthy. All you needed to do was say yes, and get by.
"I've hunted with packs in the past, yes," Phocion responded. "And though I'm small, I'm not afraid to spill blood for the group of which I'm part."
That was that. It was in Alexander's paws, now. It wouldn't greatly hurt Phocion if he did not get an invitation inside the valley. This had been a lean winter alone, true, but he would survive. He had done so for many seasons.
It looked as if Phocion's answers had satisfied the white-pelted man, as Alexander moved aside to invite him into the territory. What once might have been a thrill of excitement inside was now simply a warm feeling of relief. He had a home, at least. Maybe not a forever home, but a home for now.
"Thank you," Phocion said kindly, dipping his head in deference to his new alpha. There was no need to say more. Perhaps Alexander would open up in time, perhaps not. It was clear that the burly male was a closed book, and Phocion was not about to push the issue--not in the infancy of their relationship.
He was just about to follow Alexander when the man's parting words reached first his ears, then his mind.
"What?" he answered stupidly, but the alpha male had already left.