Days after his altercation with Thistle Cloud and his subtle threat to kill Gunnar left Týr with the aftermath which was a melting pot of boiling guilt, shame, horror that he had actually meant the threat; and a question that he knew he needed to answer. Was he truly that desperate for recognition from Ragnar? Killing a free man or woman in the Scandinavian's culture wasn't accepted but at the same time Týr didn't feel remorse for having the idea of killing another male. Erasing competition at any and every cost. He wasn't sure what was happening to him, if this had always been something within him, only realizing it now when he was forced to face it, or if he was becoming some kind of demon. It seemed to him that his jealousy was getting the better of him and that the best course of action was to simply leave Thistle Cloud and her spawn alone from now on. They only seemed to aggravate him and bring something out of the Rekkr that was ugly. Something he didn't want to see come to the surface ever again.
It was with that in mind that Týr had left the free territories close to Stavanger Bay figuring Thistle could continue to not tell Ragnar about his presence in the Wilds and that he would pretend like all of them — including Ragnar — did not exist. Taking a deep breath of air, alerting him that he was closing the distance between claimed pack lands and himself, causing his pace to slow and his course to alter so that there was more than a respectful distance between the scent markers and his body, he kept walking, following the twisting river that curved around the pack he assumed was Blacktail Deer Plateau's borders. In reality, Týr had no real reason for lingering so close other than he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have been. He hoped that he could get away with following the snaking river further north, away from the no-man's land that acted as a buffer without attracting the attention of one of the pack's wardens.
The morning was fair, the sun warm as it's heated rays brushed through the tendrils of his chocolate brown fur like fingers, the earthen bank close to the water soft and pliable under his paws, walking the edge like a tight rope, pausing to wash his paw off in the shallows of the water, the mud coming free of his fur and paw pads, washing down stream like blood being washed away by the ocean.
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I am bad at making long posts. I also couldn't tell which side of the river he was on... so I decided Fox couldn't tell either. XD
Fox strolled along the edge of the plateau, looking over the edge casually every few paces to check for anything out of the ordinary. The landscape here was much different from the flatness that was the creek. And while there were a few streams interspersed throughout Blacktail Deer Plateau, none of them were as strong as Swiftcurrent Creek. The name, while she had overlooked it many times before, made perfect sense now. The current
was more swift than any other creek she had encountered before or after.
This time, when the yearling looked over the ledge, she spotted a figure lingering below. Ruling out the possibility that it was a bear, and knowing that a wolf lingering so close could only mean one of two things, Fox began picking her way down the slope of the plateau, careful to watch her footing as she did so. That was, perhaps, the most difficult part of living here. It made sense to her now why Peregrine never wanted to leave: doing so was a bitch and a half.
Eventually, Fox found herself next to the river that separated the plateau from the neutral lands. There, she stood, having lost the form she had come down to either interrogate or chase off. Looking decidedly puzzled, she waited for her eyes to find it again, or for it to find her.
No you're not. :o I hadn't really decided on which side he's on, myself, lol. :P I guess he's on the bank opposite BDP's borders so he's not as close to them as he'd be otherwise. :P
The current at the shallows was not terribly fast and he realized that even in the deeper parts of the river he could easily cross it. He was a strong swimmer from days spent in the sea in Odinn's Cove but there were some currents, even so, that would be powerful enough to sweep him away. Even the sea had the power to snuff out his life like the snipping of a spider web's tether. If Ragnar had taught him anything it was that life was delicate. So easily taken; then again the Gods were good at that. Giving with one hand while they took mercilessly with the other. Týr watched the last streak of mud being carried away by the current as if he found the motion extremely fascinating; in reality he was desperately looking for something, anything to take his mind off of the torrents of emotions that were ravaging his insides. Should have never went there, He scolded himself with a scowl twisting the corner of his lips, staring at his rippling reflection in the water. It only angered him, especially when Thistle admitted that she hadn't told Ragnar about him when Ragnar was the only reason he wanted to visit Stavanger Bay in the first place. He didn't really care about his step mother and step, half siblings whatever it was that they were. Especially not that he had had a falling out with her over her unwillingness to fill him in on family business a family, he felt inclined to remind her, he had been apart of much longer than she. She was new — not him.
Giving his head a quick shake in attempt to dispel those thoughts before they could rouse his anger from it's uneasy and tentative slumber. The last thing he wanted was to keep dwelling upon it until he did go back and do many things everyone would live to regret soon after. He glimpsed up then, ears cupping forth atop his skull at a faint noise and before he knew what he was doing he began to back track, knowing that he needed to stop himself before he hit that point of no return. He wanted her to pay for denying him what he really wanted, and he wanted the annoying child to pay for living (not realizing that it wasn't even Ragnar's — nor that Týr himself wasn't, either). What was Ragnar going to do to him? Kill him? Then he'd be without any sons which was the exact opposite of what all of them knew he wanted. That was all the women were good for to Ragnar, baby making machines, just like Týr's own mother. They were foolish if they thought anything better of the Lodbrok.
He stopped, however, when he lifted his eyes from his paw tracks and caught the glimpse of a red coat on the opposite side of the river bank, downwind of him. Brow furrowed as he continued forward, weary until it sunk in that he recognized her. Tuwawi had told him that Fox had left Swiftcurrent Creek but nothing more and Týr thought that it meant she had left the Wilds period. Fox?
Týr asked, unsure if it was really her or just some kind of illusion though nothing indicated that it was such a thing.
"Fox?" a vaguely familiar voice called out, and it took her a moment to pinpoint the sound. He was on the other side of the river, and she remembered him from Swiftcurrent Creek. Or rather, she remembered his appearance. Fox was never good with names, especially those she had not seen in months. Still, she remembered that he had been kind, not to mention a potential father to her children at the time. Or had he? She remembered, with some difficulty, that she had dismissed him in favor of Haunter.
"You..." she said, still searching for a name, but coming up blank. "There's an easier spot to cross down the way. Meet me there." Without awaiting confirmation that he was following, Fox began trotting toward the narrower part of the river, knowing that it would be simpler to cross there rather than trying to swim the entire width of the river here. It took her all of ten minutes to get there, and when she reached the other side, she took a look around to see if he was nearby.
Sveinn. That was the name she recalled him giving previously, even if the memory was tattered and worn. Still, she rushed down the bank and met him on the other side. Only when he greeted her did she spot him, and her tail wagged with the excitement of seeing an old, familiar face. Without hesitation, she made her way toward him and gave him a nudge on the cheek with her nose.
“Yes,” she replied, drawing herself away from him. “Where did you go?” she asked. "And where are you going now?" she thought to herself. Perhaps, if circumstances had been different, she would have taken Sveinn as her mate. Or Cutthroat. Or Razo. Or Scimitar. She had surrounded herself with options and taken none of them. Instead, she'd scurried away to the plateau after she had thrown the crown in Bazi's face. Not that she was about to confess all of that just yet (or ever, for that matter).
Sorry for the delay. :)
Sveinn was quick to change the subject, and she sucked in sharply when he mentioned Tuwawi again. Fox figured he would have asked eventually, but she was still reluctant to give away too much. If anything, it was Njal and Tuwawi who had been her main concern at the creek. They were raising the lifeblood that would become the creek's next generation.
“She may not have known where I had gone,” replied Fox.
“Let's just say my departure wasn't planned.” But she left it at that. The young leader did not wish to delve into the details.
“Will you stay?” she asked, glancing back up at the plateau.
“It would be nice to have another familiar face around.” Of course, there was Rina and Finn, but they were less close to Fox than Sveinn had been, even if he had only been at the creek for a short time.
Short post. :o
Fox frowned, but she understood. But... wait. Actually, she didn't understand. Realizing this, she flashed Sveinn a glance of confusion.
“Swiftcurrent?” she asked. Perhaps they had overthrown Bazi at her weakest point. It would make sense, after all.
Njal and Tuwawi were older, stronger, more experienced. It was a miracle they had not ever tried to overthrow Fox when she had been the sole leader there. If anything, Njal had been more on her side than Bazi had. At least he understood that Ferdie and Jace were a threat. Bazi had never gotten that into her system.
Last post for me. :)
So it seemed they were not satisfied with the creek, but instead of usurping it, they chose to move their young children elsewhere. Or perhaps their children had perished for one reason or another. Whatever the cause, she wondered how Bazi would take it. Fox had no intention of tracking down the ghostly Alpha, of course. She tuned Sveinn out for a moment, lost in her own thoughts until he mentioned her own name.
“Hm? Oh, yes,” she mumbled, blinking to recover herself.
“Tell them I wish them well, will you?” she asked.
“And should you find yourself needing a home in the future, know that I will be here, at the plateau.” It was an invitation, should he ever need one. Though she did not doubt that Njal and Tuwawi would make fine leaders themselves. Fox did not align herself with other packs, but she would have no reason to hold ill will toward the Sveijarn family.
“I should be getting back,” she said just as quickly.
“It was good to see you.” Sveinn was no longer a potential recruit, and she had gotten enough information out of him for one meeting. With a swish of her tail, she bounded up the slopes of the plateau, knowing he was no threat to them.
I'll have this archived, thanks for the thread! <3
I will,
Týrr replied to Fox's well wishes to Tuwawi and Njal. Týrr was not sure when the next time he would see Tuwawi would be for she seemed to be the one more prominent at the Glacier's unclaimed lands at the moment — but he would tell one of them the next time he saw one of them. It was the least that he could do for Fox, after all, given that he had left her and the Creek without so much as a goodbye. Which wasn't his proudest moment, admittedly. The extension of her invitation was surprising but the young Rekkr accepted it with a bow of his head. Thank you,
He spoke, falling silent once more when Fox admitted that she needed to get back. He, too, needed to return to the Glacier though he had quite a bit of ways to go before he would reach the territory the Sveijarn pair intended to claim again. A four or five days, maybe, providing the weather was good enough for him to travel in. Good luck.
He told her retreating form. When she had fully disappeared from his line of sight, Týrr turned and headed in the opposite journey figuring that it wouldn't hurt to fill his stomach. He had a long trip before him, after all.