Kuyuk busies himself around the cuesta with patrols, although they were done hastily and without much effort. He's much more invested in testing his own limits, running, roaming; the open road is his calling, not this. Yet when the call breaks through the air, he stops his strides and cranes his neck, as if to watch the song itself. He lets out a yip; accustomed perhaps to the horde always rambling along with him, someone always near.
He throws himself in to another long-stride run, and careens across the cuesta until Tashkent comes in to view. He slows, drifting around her, breathing her in and watching.
Wherever her family was, Isleña was not far behind. She would wander briefly to forage or entertain her senses with exploration, but she always wove her way back to the others. She was a packwolf if there ever was one, but if absolutely nothing else, the banshee was consistent. Isleña had already been on her way back to their rendezvous site when the call from Tashkent was loosed, and though she wasn’t far, the woman made haste.
Coming upon Tashkent and Kuyuk, Isleña gave a restless yip and cantered fluidly around the two, kicking up a dry autumnal dust. “This place bores me,” she slurred in their thick native tongue. It was not meant as a slight — most things bored Isleña, and she was only trying to make conversation. Without being particularly sneaky, the panther leapt towards the male and swatted him with a diminutive rusted paw. “Come, practice with me,” she purred, wondering if a spar might stir up some of this raw, yet stagnant, energy — she was quite unaware of any official business that her cousin wished to conduct.
He roamed near the rest of the horde, ever dutiful and obedient, just within reach should they ever need it — yet also far enough that he wasn't in their way. Silently, he mapped the area as he diligently strode through the Cuesta and its borderlands, making note of prey burrows and dens, and of any dangers they should be wary of. The Luk wolves were not the sort to fear most anything, he knew, but he also knew that a rattlesnake bite was fatal to even the most fearsome of beasts and they should be aware regardless.
The sudden howl that rings across the plains catches his attention, and Mengu promptly heads in the direction it came from. It doesn't take long, the slave arriving just after two others — Kuyuk and Isleña. The woman, the cousin of their young leader, is quick to invite the other into a spar; the members of the horde were never still for long. Mengu creeps past with his head and tail low, offering a respectful lick to the underside of Tashkent's chin should she accept it before scuttling away to take his place and listen to what she had to say.