An ermine fled from behind a shrub as Ptarmigan drew near, but the Alpha female was too sore to give chase. She would be slow on her feet for some time to come. It was a poor time for it, for truly she should have been asserting her new claim over the Spine pack with vigour now that they knew their former queen had been murdered and her replacement dethroned, but she was unable. Any one of them could bring tooth to her hide, and she would be helpless... Except for her friends.
Viggo and Andrus had been consumed with their own duties in the time between Ptarmigan's challenge and her healing enough to walk around actively. What exactly they had been doing, the Endore could not have known, but part of her simply didn't care. They were keeping busy and that was what mattered.
The Endore sat down heavily next to the abandoned shrub, staring off after the ermine with an irritated tweak of her brow.
“Dumb bitch,” she voiced aloud, referring to Cara. Never before had Ptarmigan seen blood drawn in a rank dispute, but the pale woman had gone for her chest and neck over and over, leaving welts and slashes wherever she went. It was a wonder Ptarmigan had held on in that battle long enough to best the white female's pride—by all rights, she should have collapsed. It was
shameful, she thought.
Now, each wound was a puckered scab, and any strenuous activity could cause them to break open and bleed anew, rendering Ptarmigan unable to do more than pace the valley and wait for better days.
She twisted her head around to see Andrus as he came near, though the movement tweaked a nerve in her spine and she winced. “Nah,” she said dismissively, looking again at the place where the ermine had disappeared. “I'm not hungry, just wish I could have chased it for fun is all.” But she couldn't chase much of anything, not for a while. The wounds were too fresh.
Not wishing to dwell any longer on her injuries or the fight, she surveyed Andrus, looking for an opening with which to probe his thoughts. As always, the mercenary provided none, so she had to force herself into the conversation. “Found anything interesting here?” she asked aloud, sweepingly referring to the entire forest they had inherited. She hadn't had much energy for exploration so, for the time being, Viggo and Andrus were her eyes and ears.
“None,” she confirmed, though she turned her head to look out into the trees as though unsettled, revealing her true unease. “They are sheep, they will not challenge me.” Sheep that were rebelling against their shepherd, of course, but only with snark and big talk. None of them were taking action except perhaps Cara, but Ptarmigan thought she'd already dealt with that particular problem.
At length, she stood up, motioning for Andrus to accompany here. “Let's see if we can flush out any ewes,” she said with a snicker, referring specifically to the wolves of Ouroboros and their passive Betas. The mercenary followed, obedient as ever, and when she turned to him, she was met with his trademark flavourless expression. She grinned broadly at him, then began to lead the way (slowly) toward the territory's heart, where she hoped they might find some native to pester.