After her rather odd encounter with a coyote named Topaz, Tomahawk continued north. Actually, ever encounter she'd had with a coyote had gone awry. They tried to accept her as one of their own, but she could never get in on it. She would always be a wolf, and wolves did not befriend coyotes. So she had learned over the past year, drifting from region to region, seeking acceptance from wolves and refusing it from coyotes. It was a terrible way to live, but Tomahawk had never known anything else.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Her upbringing had been a rather normal one (for a wolf, of course). She'd played with her aunts and uncles, scrapped with some of her older cousins, and she'd been loved by both her mother and her father. And yet, as soon as she'd sought out a mate of her own, they'd rejected her over and over again. It was not until her mother confessed of her adoption that Tomahawk had understood. She still felt a mixture of hate and love for her mother, something that would likely never change.
The young
coyote wolf found herself at the edge of a lake then—and drank deeply from its waters.
The huge male had been wandering farther and farther from his own territory, wanting to expand his world. It was on one of these days when he met the coyote, who's pelt was similar in color to his own. He barked a friendly hello, while others did not like coyotes, he found no problem with them. Tail wagging and head held high, he approached the fae.
An (oddly) friendly hello was barked from behind her, and Hawk spun around to see... no, not a coyote. A wolf. A gargantuan beast with brown, cream, and black fur. He had the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen. Even though his tail was wagging, it was held high, a sign that she had learned long ago meant that she was supposed to do the opposite. Instinctively, she curled her tail beneath her and licked her lips. Hawk's ears flattened and she made herself look as small as she possibly could.
She wanted him to know that she was no threat, no harm.
Tempo was oddly nervous about the fae submitting to him. He didn't like others submitting to him, it felt wrong, somehow. " No need to submit to me. Here, we are equal." He sat, examining the russet fae. Unlike most wolves, he considered coyotes equal, not lesser. Though most coyotes knew naught of wolf language, and this one puzzled him. "What is your name, coyote-wolf?" he thought to himself that perhaps she was a coy-wolf. But she looked nothing like a wolf...
"Equal?" Tomahawk thought, surprised that he would say such a thing. In fact, the whole encounter was so bizarre, she had half a mind to click her heels and run as fast as she could in the other direction. But she stood, unsure how she felt and wondering if it was some kind of trick. Attempting to calm herself, Hawk shook her coat, trying to let her apprehension go with the specks of dirt that flew off of her.
“Tomahawk,” she replied, “I’m a wolf.” For some reason, it felt so much easier to talk to this wolf than it had been with the one who called herself a coywolf. It only affirmed Hawk's belief that she was a wolf, not a coyote (or anything even close to those creatures). “Who are you?”
Tempo sat, confused. She had said she was a wolf, but her shape said otherwise. He wasn't sure what he made of that yet, but decided to roll with it for now. "Okay, Tomahawk. Where do hail from?" He realized he hadn't answered her question, so quickly burst out "Tempo. I'm Tempo"
“The south,” she replied, still unsure if this was some kind of trick. Was he trying to get her to converse only to try and bite her throat? It would not be the first time such a rouse happened, and she was unwilling to trust him based on a few kind words. Tomahawk continued to stand uneasily, half-braced to skitter on out of here when Tempo (as he introduced himself) decided she was too much competition.
Tempo bowed his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Tomahawk from the south." Kind eyes took in her skittishness, and Tempo sighed. "I am sorry, Tomahawk, if I make you nervous. If you wish it, I could leave. It is no wish of mine to cause you discomfort. I only hope to get to know you a little, for it is not often one comes across one so wise in the ways of the wolf. It seems that you are a pure wolf in the form of a coyote."
He raised his head, waiting for her verdict.
He sincerely hoped she would not mind his company for a few more minutes.
Last post for me, thanks for the thread!
It was the final word that set her off. "Coyote." She was no coyote, nor would she ever be one of those nasty vermin. They were scavengers, enemies of wolves, and not a creature she wished to be associated with. Scowling at the wolf, she shook her head. He would always see her as a coyote, she knew, and she simply couldn't bear it.
“I told you, I’m a wolf.” Without another word, Tomahawk sprung to her feet and spun around, high-tailing it as far away as she could possibly get.