Wolf RPG

He smelled them, rich in the snowy ground, present with a small claim here.

There was no way to ignore it as it tickled his senses and summoned his attentions. Although he was no idiot, whether the scents were few or plenty he would not wander deep into the rise.

Instead he stood on the edge of the grotto where it melted into the rise. Eyes hard despite the subtle tired depth to them.

He figured he could stand here until someone came across him or he grew too weary of being on his legs. He knew what he should do though, if he wished for anything to go further than brooding lurking along their claim. He let out a deep summoning sound, announcing his presence and wishing for an audience to meet him.

she knows immediately upon hearing it that the summons comes from a strong man, and she is pleased to find such a beast at the border, awaiting her. his pelt of different colors ripples in the breeze, occasionally plastering to his figure and revealing a wealth of muscle and bone.

Avicus brings herself within a few paces and lifts her head, looking down her ruddy nose at him. he's bigger than she is, but she's learning, slowly, to carry herself as if she holds the same stature. she wonders if she should call for her Ulfhedinn to stand guard,

but no.

he and Tulimaq may outweigh her, true, but no authority will outweigh Wealda's; she will fight and bleed for that notion.

She looked upon him and he could only assume, from the way she carries herself so, that she must hold some weight her. Perhaps a wife to a husband with as much power, perhaps a woman who carved out her own path away from wedded traditions of the beginning of packs.

You have made a claim here. He says to her with certainty in his deep voice, eyes fixed upon her still. Respectful in the way they cut across her. The colors of a simmering autumn evening. Her eyes as purple toned as a night sky darkening.

You need more... This time his words teetered away from certainty into a questioning tone.

her gaze grows hard at his trailed-off statement. of course he can sense the scarcity of wolves as illustrated by their border, but she doesn't yet know whether she can trust this man. to admit vulnerability would be folly.

you fighh'? she asks sharply instead, looking him over. hunhh'? i needh 'em bohh'.

a fighter, especially. she doesn't doubt Tulimaq can do battle, but she needs a war chieftain to stand alongside the huntmaster, and this one seems a good choice, if he can prove loyal. 

she stands and waits, wondering how he'll take her—lean build, garbled tongue and all.

She spoke in garbled tongues. Not of another language, no. She merely struggled with this one. Perhaps if he had a closer look he might have seen her cut short tongue, but alas. He was left with no clue why she tossed him half-finished words.

I fight, I guard. He told her with a stiff nod of his head. I can do other things that are needed to survive too, though — support the needs of a pack. There was no cockiness or flaunting in his posture or words. Only calmness as he let his red gaze settle on her with a stillness as he awaited her words.

she doesn't know why she feels the need to test him, but—

'hhow me, she says. and lunges toward his foreleg, hoping to seize it—gently but firmly—in her jaws and knock him off kilter.

he's got size on her, but she has speed, and she will see what he has to offer. not that she's a marvelous fighter by any means, but she's scrappy, and she won't give in easily.

jaws move, waiting for the feel of bone and flesh beneath teeth.

She lunged, and he could not pull back quick enough that she would find purchase in the tenderness of his ankle. Rendered useless on only three legs with one captured between her jaws.

He had no choice but to 'hhow her.

There was no intentional malice in his actions, only the urge to heed her command and treat her the way he had been treated. So he makes to grab her neck, seeking to scruff her off of his ankle more than actually puncture anything.

ah, success—adrenaline begins to pump hard within her system as she finds purchase, but the victory is short lived.

he seizes her scruff and pulls, and his brute strength rips her away from his leg. her mouth gapes like a landed fish, and she squirms in his grasp, butting her head against his chest, his shoulder, his—

throat? she careens the side of her jaw against his windpipe, hoping to knock the air out of him.

otherwise, he has her, quite literally, in his clutches, and she's doomed;

(or perhaps blessed, to find such a warrior)

She was a fierce little thing, not one to be questioned or doubted even if she lived in her small claim. It was the only thought he could muster as his throat seized with the sudden shock of her jaw slammed into it. A rush of air as he gasped.

His hold on her gone, just like that.

Although that did not stop him from attempting to swing his shoulder into her frame in his stumbling ways.

she's a little surprised it works, and it's this surprise that probably leaves her reeling at his stumbling blow. she tumbles to the snow and takes a second to rise, but perhaps he'll have her measure in that moment.

either way, she shakes the ice from her fur and lunges again;

she heads for his ribs, hoping to pummel them with the force of her paws.

but she's tiring a bit in the wake of a good opponent, especially since she's never truly recovered from the beatings that Moonwoman, Laurel and the hunt for Nyra had inflicted upon her.

if he's a good warrior, he'll exploit her weakness.

She is down, but she is a pesky thing.

Quick to lunge at his side with paws and he had been left with no choice but to absorb the blow of it. His side left with an ache certain to bloom into a beautiful bruise beneath the surface.

Of course, he lurched beneath her force some too, partially reclined as his hind legs folded beneath the pressure.

It is repetitive, but once more he sought to purchase teeth in her neck — or shoulder, somewhere tender in the area — as his head whipped into her. A sharp rumble built in his chest. Yet still there was no malice or anger. Instead, it was a shared rush of adrenaline.

once the second scruffing commences, she knows.

he is worthy.

oh-kay, Avicus manages to spit out, shaking her head a bit to try and release herself.

she's pinned against his chest, and the both of them are breathing hard; she feels his heart hammering against her body and knows her heart hammers the same;

leh' me go, she commands, her voice sharp and firm.

He knew, then and there, as she commanded him against the width of his chest, that he respected her. Regardless of where paths went from here, she was a respectable beast among the wilds. As fiery as her coat suggested.

He released without second thought. Even a step back to allow her room if she so needed it. No need to keep poking the bear when they had already settled matters with the physical words of warriors.

Red eyes found her face, tired but warm, as if he was gazing upon a lifelong friend. Silent as he awaited her judgement.

she stands a moment, trying to catch her breath;

breathe-in, breathe-out. breathe-in, breathe-out.

then: my ma, Avicus says, still slightly winded. kill by a bigh whihh' woman. i'll kill her, an' you will help.

it isn't an option; it's a command. she stares into his eyes, deep and vibrant as fresh-spilled blood. compelling, really, and she cannot help but maintaining the look as she speaks again.

i leadhh, she stresses. but you. . . fighh' leadh'her. she pauses, and then hopes to get the word she's heard so often in fever-dreams right. Berserkr.

a little slurred in the middle, but thus dubbed. she glares at him, questioning.

She speaks and although it is garbled, he is leeched onto each single syllable she managed to roll off. His own sides heaved as he processed what she spoke. A moment behind to translate in his mind.

Her mother slaughtered by a large woman.

And she wished to deploy him to help kill her in return.

She wished for him to be a fight leader beneath her ruling.

Berserker, He echoed back in deep tones. It was not a question, it was a tasting of the title she placed upon him.

It is yours. I will wield fang and tooth under your order, against this woman and others.

he is accepting, obedient. goodh, she replies, and nods. my name Avi. you?

a shifting of her body indicates a clear path into the territory at her side; she waits to stride off before he follows her, and they will ascend the rise side-by-side, wolves-in-arms.

she thinks of the mountainous woman Nyra. it will take a lot to bring her down.

they will do it. they must.

He stayed close to her side, keen to see the rise the way she saw it.

Prophet. He breathed out in a heavy, frosty wisp. The cold air marred by his hot breath.

We will get her, Avi. There is no room for question or doubt. He spoke with a heavy certainty, as certain as their reality here. It would become as real as the rise, as real as the blood that built a bruise on his side.