Wolf RPG

Anselm had stood atop Sky Mesa and drank in the warm summer air. He'd supped his fill of an endless navy sky, counted thousands of stars beyond counting, and watched the moon as it strode magnificently across a bed of glittering indigo.

Of course, he'd thrown his voice to the sky too, as he promised himself he would -- and as his cry thinned out into the balmy air he caught a pair of twinkling eyes in the lowlands below. Two pools of distant water, nestled in shadowy green.

He made his way to that distant point, breathing in the soft breeze that carried with it the story of a thousand desert things; the lives of lizards and scorpions, of bats and fruiting bodies of cactus who turned their flowers towards the bright face of a waxy yellow moon.

Ah, back at the Cenote again. S'ari was fond of this place, as it reminded her of Meerkat and Towhee. Also, it was a welcome respite to the dry desert. Water was a precious commodity here.

And it seemed that S'ari was fated to meet wolf after wolf here at the place of two pools. Cutting through the warm summer night was the deep sound of a wolf's howl. Compelled to answer, she threw her head back and yip-yap-howled into the night. And then she began to run in the direction of the howl, her head on a constant swivel for the nearby wolf.

Somewhere in the lowlands below, a coyote's song climbed to a high note among the pale clouds. Anselm's ears turned as he fell silent, picking his way down the slope towards the glittering pools in the distance.

There was a stretch of inviting desert before him. Anselm was not used to being afforded such open sightlines -- the flatness and lack of tree cover made it so he could see for hundreds of feet in any direction.

He picked up a trail of bobcat and some other unknown game -- but his destination was the captivating pools, and he would not be distracted.

Unknowingly, S'ari closed the distance behind him.

There you are! S'ari called as the wolf materialized out of the dark. She had not seen him against the slope of the mesa, but now she could see him clearly against the flat landscape of the desert. His back was to her as she called out. Not all wolves were friendly--this she knew, and thought, with a wince, of Candle. And this is why she kept a fair distance between herself and the wolf. Still. She gave each wolf she met a chance at being kind. Hello there!

Anselm ducked under the arm of a low hanging cactus. A voice sounded behind him: no doubt the owner of the trailing call Anselm had heard earlier.

He slowed his steps, casting a glance behind him. In his sights he held the full frame of a skulking coyote; a knife of annoyance cut through his blood.

Anselm had lived a year without encountering a coyote, and yet in these last few weeks it seemed the hills crawled with them. He did not feel the need to be defensive quite yet, for this one kept a respectful distance -- but he was reminded of Meridian, and his eyes narrowed.

Vhat do you vant?

This one did not seem happy to see her, which S'ari found amusing. A smarter coyote might have turned tail and run, but S'ari was Tribe, and Tribe liked to find ways to annoy those who annoyed them. If any other Tribe had been out here this night, she probably would've taken them away and left, but she was alone, so the only one who'd get hurt from this--if she did get hurt--was herself.

Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, she said, in response to the man's question. Only a bit of company on this lonely night, yes? She'd dropped her voice low, her eyes gleaming, as it to be intimidating, but... S'ari blinked, suddenly realizing how flirtatious that might seem instead, with those particular words and her voice dropping low like that. She threw her head back and laughed at herself.

Anselm measured S'ari then. Her voice had taken a deeper tone, and her eyes sparkled with something in the half-light Anselm could not fully understand.

Was she.. flirting?

He slowed his stride enough that S'ari might easily step alongside him, but he did not let his guard down. This could be another clever ruse -- she could be biding time and luring him while her friends flanked him in the dark.

Vhy would you vant the company of a stranger? He asked after the last of her laughter had faded away.

Well. Something she'd said had gotten through to him, at least enough for him to let her walk beside him. She decided not to explain that she'd been jokingly trying to seem frightening, a creepy coyote approaching him at night. He'd let her come near, and she didn't care to question why.

He asked her why she would want the company of a stranger. Why, strangers are so very interesting, yes? What is there to learn about ones you already know? Talking to strangers is much more fun! For example, what is this one's favorite prey to hunt, hmm? Little groundling birds? Deer? Fish? She winked at him. Coyote, perhaps? S'ari's favorite is lizards, because you must stalk them slowly, and then pounce before they scurry away. And they are so quick! She looked at him pointedly now, waiting for his own answer.

S'ari kept pace with him, coming alongside with a manner that Anselm found unusual. The lilt in her speech and her unusual affectation reminded him of the other coyote he'd encountered on the mesa's choppy slopes.

Anselm tried to keep track with the fast pace of her speech. He found he disagreed with almost entirely all of it - he found strangers terribly uninteresting, and at times, incredibly inconveniencing.

Coyote. He swung his muzzle towards her in a feint, aggravated by how comfortable in her skin she seemed. Vhy do you talk that vay?

'Coyote,' said the wolf, and veered toward her suddenly.

She expertly leaped out of the way--a lifetime of avoiding hostile wolves and given her quick reflexes--and then laughed heartily when it was clear that he had been playing with her. This one is funny, no? You would keep S'ari on her toes!

It was not unusual for her to be asked about her accent by those who had never met a Tribe member before. This is how S'ari's whole Tribe speaks, she explained, calmly. Except those who were taken in at an older age. This is simply our way. You have an accent, as well. Why do you talk the way you do? It is simply how you were raised. Probably, your parents had that accent, or whoever raised you. S'ari shrugged. S'ari thinks her accent is simply the way of the Desert. Though she has met several coyotes in this new place and not many of them speak as she does. Ah, well.

S'ari leapt skillfully from his fangs. Just as well, for a small part of Anselm did not feel it was a joke. As she tilted her head back to laugh, his eye was drawn to the scarcely bounding pulse beneath her throat.
 
Some part of him, however small, recognized her instinctively as enemy.

She shared that most of her tribe spoke in such an enchanting manner; that it was the dialect of the desert. Anselm considered this and wondered then, what was the dialect of Paleo?

I have no accent. He scoffed, dismissing S'ari's assertion with the unwavering confidence of a surly teen. Are you vhy the wilds have been overrun with coyotes?

'I have no accent,' he scoffed, as if she were an idiot.

She gave him a look like, 'Lmao, okay dude,' but said nothing more about it.

The wilds overrun with coyotes, she repeated quietly, trying to think. Do you mean to ask if S'ari's Tribe has settled here? The answer is no. This one's home Tribe lies far, far away. But S'ari was attracted to the desert here, and perhaps this place is attracting more coyotes, yes? This is our natural land, after all. Not all the land belongs to the wolves.

S'ari conveniently left out the part about how a new Tribe was settling in the desert, for she did not think this wolf would be happy to hear it.

Anselm listened with a cast ear. It was the last thing she'd said that stuck with him -- not all the land belongs to the wolves.

It was his turn to return the lmao okay dude glance. There had been a fleeting chance that Anselm would have grown without the disdain of coyotes on his tongue -- and that chance had been dashed the moment he'd spared Meridian and she'd the gall to say much the same.

Rankled, Anselm began to pick up his pace. His long strides churned shale and sand beneath his feet. Perhaps it is that attitude that makes us vant to kill you. You all have no respect. He answered flippantly, tail lashing as he turned once more to the Cenotes.

S'ari stopped short for a moment at his words, then scrambled to catch up as he began to quickly leave her behind. She bounded after him, suddenly angry, but tried to keep that anger in check. Perhaps Coyotes would have more respect for wolves if they respected us, she said, and in her voice, underneath its calm coolness, was a hissing venom. In S'ari's home Tribe, it was not uncommon for wolves to come and trade with us. Food for food, tale for tale, knowledge for knowledge. There was respect both ways, and each one benefited. Is this so difficult to understand?

Anselm felt a knife of satisfaction as he heard S'ari's footsteps cease. Good -- his laced words had hit their intended mark.

Then she was upon him again, the edge of her voice glinting sharp as shale.

This time, it was Anselm that slowed. Vhat is there to respect? He pinned her with his cutting gaze. You steal from our caches and trespass. Just last week, I found one of your kind in my home. She said the same as you - that all land is coyote land or some bullshit.

Now his steps were no longer measured; they punctuated the crumbled shale in huffy steps.

S'ari's patience with this wolf had worn thin. S'ari never said all land was Coyote land, she snapped, running ahead of Anselm and stopping in front of him, attempting to get him to stop walking. You cannot base your hatred of all coyotes on the actions of a few! S'ari has plenty of reasons to hate your kind, but she does not, because some wolves have been kind to her! Open your heart, or at least your mind! Not all coyotes are thieves, just as not all wolves are monsters.

The last thing Anselm expected was for the little S'ari to treat her body like bulwark. He stopped, ears propped forward in surprise.

He could easily go around her thin form - and he was half-tempted to, considering.

Unfortunately for S'ari, Anselm was a hormone-ridden adolescent -- there was no appealing to his good nature, or even logic. No, not all coyotes are thieves. Just the ones I meet.

Now he took a step around her, his limber tail flicking in annoyance. Vhat do you expect from me? That we suddenly become friends? That I laugh vith your jokes and velcome you with open arms? No! Ve are too different, you and I. If we were meant to be friends, then you would not be bite sized.

S'ari could not help but stare at him as he moved around her, stunned at his stubbornness. She could be stubborn too, but not in this way. She opened her mouth to speak--to curse him, to plead with him, to pity him. In the end, even she could think of nothing to say. She was very talkative, and enjoyed swapping words with others, but not when her words would go ignored or be reviled. No. This one was clearly a waste of her time. She would hold her friendships with other wolves close to her heart and let this one go. With a snort, she turned tail and walked away.

[Exit S'ari...?]

Anselm expected a long-winded rejoinder. Somehow, S’ari’s silence stung much more than any rebuttal could. It meant he’d fallen short in some immeasurable way. She’d drawn a line in the sand and he’d gone well past it.

He was only sorry for a moment. Anselm earnestly believed all he’d said was true. It did not detract from S’ari’s truth, either — maybe there were wolves out there that were kind to her, that she loved. Anselm would not be one of them.

Judging by how Anselm was suddenly alone, he assumed she’d finally realized there was no extracting blood from stone.

He rolled his shoulders with a shrug and continued his pilgrimage to the Cenotes.