Wolf RPG

It was a reaching span that brought her back around to the glacier. She had found it purely by accident and once again, when the duskfires were aglow in the dying afternoon light. Even now, it captivated her in a way she could not describe. Echelon recalled her rather feeble attempt at trying to join up with them previously as she skirted near their border, wondering if the same wolf she had ultimately shied away from was still there. Probably was, but the possibility he wasn't was also likely. Things changed, didn't they? And truth be told, she did need a home. But she was not of the relenting sort to go and simply pick, no. The last time had been a mistake she realized before she had gone too far, had agreed to things far too much.

Of course, that had been another beast to deal with too. Knowing that she couldn't simply walk back into Siku's fold had been a blow to her ego. Though the event had happened weeks ago, she found herself still reeling. The Tartok matriarch didn't have to say a single word; her disappointment in Echelon had been word enough. And as it were, she was beginning to admit her own faults. She had strayed away too far for too long, too arrogant to keep up because she had been certain even she could find Tonravik. At least here for the moment, she was certain she was alone; her shoulders sagged in her thoughts. But it was in passing as well, as she did not let her composure falter for long. She couldn't. She was simply too proud for that, not one to go about wearing her heart on her sleeve.

She lingered along a row of squat evergreens, her breath billowing out of her in out of rhythm plumes. The glow of the glacier was dwindling and Echelon decided she would watch it go.

Like flat-eyed shark, Tuwawi lurked around Duskfire's perimeter as the valley was thrust into twilight. The dying sun caught the ember's red crest as she swiftly moved across the terrain, pausing only to glance at the brilliant glacier looming in the distance. Her assault on Adlartok was still fresh. Even a dip in the freezing meltwater hadn't rid her pale bib of the child's blood. She thought him dead — completely snuffed out of Duskfire's light — yet, little did the queen know that he was being harbored just outside of their purchase and away from her violent temper.

As the ember wove betwixt the alpine mix of spruce and aspens, a familiar scent caught her nose. Cold stone and exotic pine was distinct on the air, and it spurred Tuwawi to trail the vagrant. Soon, a figure of pitch revealed itself among a line of high trees — a statuesque woman watching the fading day. Tuwawi murmured a low growl as she inched forward, but it wasn't an entirely unfriendly noise. Apathy was her companion these days, more often than not.

For what seemed like the longest time, Echelon felt as though she were entirely alone. Lost out in an empty void, stripped clean of many things. Though she could not simply erase or wash out the fact that she was and would always be a wolf of Tartok, there was undeniably a part of her that wished for different circumstances. To simply clutch time and hold it down, drown it until it swore to reverse its hands to where she had gone wrong... that would have been nice. But it was an impossibility. Normally she would have been inclined to push needless thoughts like that away, but for once she indulged on the what if theory. How different would have things gone if Tonravik had found somewhere suitable here?

She never got to answer the question herself; something snapped her attention wholly into the present moment. It was the low growl, almost a grumble, that drew her back to reality. Long before she acknowledged what was going on, Echelon instinctively turned to spot the source of sound. It came in the form of a colorful blemish, which upon a refocus of her gaze slowly morphed into something far more wolfish. It was hard at first to pick out the finer details, but as her eyes adjusted she found that she had been followed all along. Not impossible to be done in the depth of winter. She turned her ears back, disappointment lacing her features absently. No doubt her gazing time would be cut dreadfully short now.

At first the ember steeled herself against the pitch colored waif, too suspicious of her presence to be mildly cordial. Yet, when a gust carried the vagrant's scent downwind a memory tickled Tuwawi's mind. Damp mountains, dark colored shale, and a unique brand of alpine musk continued to waft off the darker woman... and stirred reveries of time spent under Siku's tutelage in the misty forest of Arktayok. The dethroned approached the perched visitor with a new interest. It couldn't be... or could it?

Skull had been the Sveijarns' companion during Duskfire's founding, and the two had shared a common history not seen in many years. Though Tartok's bloodline and supporters were scattered sparsely along Seahawk, Chinook, and Teekon, they thrived like an unruly vine. Tuwawi had once followed the clan's creed to heart, but her desires for a life alongside Njal had rend the cardinal wolf from her pledge. She could think only of her shame, now, but a biting desire lulled the ember towards her company.

Tuwawi's posture relaxed, her irritated grumbled subsiding into silence. The other woman appeared forlorn - disillusioned by the queen's arrival. She had every right to be - the Duskfire wolf would have chased her off if it weren't for her recognizable perfume. "Do I know you?" Tuwawi asked with a mild tone, eyes narrowing to better observe the dark wolf in the fading light.

The fiery wolf approached her, drawing in closer than Echelon may have desired. In the creature's right, she could have probably snapped her right up on the spot. But something about her suggested that she wouldn't, provided that the inky Phase played her own hand correctly. Yet something else crossed over her visage — a glimmer of recognition like the spark of a bolt out of the blue. But it passed, replaced in those eyes by a confusion with no other name. Uncertainty, Echelon knew it well.

She turned herself so that the fiery canine could see her better, deciding it was better that she revealed herself in what low light there was left. Whatever it was that the other had seen, it had stopped her from taking aggressive action. And that was something that Echelon sought to embrace for her own good, out of instinct. "Doubt it," she answered coolly, slicking her ears back against her narrow skull. Up closer, she could see the scarring that riddled the body of the other and most importantly, the collar that she bore around her neck. If things went south, this would not be in her favor, she decided.

Tuwawi'ss gunmetal eyes traced Echelon's outline, made brighter by the setting sun. No... she had never met this wolf before. Yet, the memories triggered by her perfume became clearer and the monarch became cognizant that they shared the same heritage. These Tartok wolves... rarely a colored hair among them. It was only fitting that this rogue was dressed in a pelt of obsidian. The mother's red ears turned thoughtfully as the inky she-wolf slicked back her lobes, deciding whether her guest would humor the same interest.

The Sveijarn's advance paused, perhaps against her better judgement. "Then perhaps you know a tribe named Tartok? Ring a bell?" she asked, fishing for more information. I was unlikely the stranger would be able to glean her connection to Siku's reign, the scent long since faded from her ember pelt.

Aha, there it was, there was that reason why this fiery matriarch thought she knew her. If there was supposed to be a trace of recognition flickering away in Echelon's blue eyes, it wasn't there. She held that fact close, just like the humor that came dancing up. Her fishing was obvious and Echelon, though usually not so inclined to provide answers, decided to do more than be a caught fish. She'd throw Tuwawi a whole bone.

"Maybe I do," she said, only to change over to the Iñupiaq flawlessly in her following words. "And you must too, to know their name this far south. Who are you?" She assumed that her colorful counterpart would know the language they had carried for literal generations now. Echelon knew it was one of the things that had drawn her father to it so many years ago and if not for that, then she would have never come into existence in the first place.

But it was a bold approach for her, a mere loner at the doorstep in front of the very wolf who could have easily commanded that pack. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed that she spoke to someone at the head of it. How little she didn't know just how right that was, or had been.

Tuwawi's lip raised to reveal a single fang between the notch in her lip — a grimace. "I do not know the tongue," she explained when the enigmatic woman slipped into Tartok's mother language; surely derived from Siku's northern heritage. Though she had pledged herself to their creed long ago, Tuwawi was not born into their service by blood. The lyrical vocabulary had been challenging for the ember to conquer and in the end she failed to grasp that aspect of the tribe. Ashamedly, her own name had been derived from their jargon — Tuwawi, quick — bestowed by the mother bear during her initiation to replace Sterntooth's Proudheart.

The firebrand ebbed closer, pointed ears turned away as Tuwawi sought to better learn Echelon's familiar scent. A certain shame eroded in the mother's breast, sparked anew by this dark woman's perfume — the biting reminder of her disloyalty. "But since you do," she gestured towards Echelon, "I can only speculate that you must follow Siku. Am I wrong? Is the matriarch near?"

Her assumption provided no answers, only more questions. The thought never occurred that some would not have been able to pick up the lingua — but it did now. For all her standoffishness, Echelon managed to hold her ground as the fiery matron drew closer. There was a certain nature of respect in that approach however, so for the time being she would allow it. If Tuwawi sought answers to her own questions based off of Echelon, then she would not find them there either.

"I asked who you were," she said pointedly. "And you will not find the matriarch near." But by then, she imagined her fiery counterpart had ascertained that much from her. If any notion of Siku, or even Tonravik lingered on her now, it moved the impossibilities to the realm of possibility. But the wilds had claimed Echelon's body now. She was but a fragment of Tartok. But as to what she was doing or why she was there, she had no answers either. Many things were lost to her, ranging from Tonravik to Tartok itself. Only the days to come would unfold what was to come.

"How do you know of Siku?" Not surprising, her words were becoming more and more firm.

The dark woman's sharp tongue nettled the ember, her interest waning when answers did not immediately embellish themselves. She was a cryptic sylph, circumventing Tuwawi's questions with minced words and further queries. "You are bold to demand my name," she said, tone laced with an agitated growl, "so near my glacier." It was not like the ember to maintain a cool mind in the presence of a stubborn wanderer, despite their common relation to Tartok.

After all, the tribe was a sensitive subject to the firebrand who had long since abandoned their name. Snapjaw was a fleeting conquest and, as a young wolf, the Sveijarn sought better prospects to continue her own lineage. She had shared a common interest with Skull, but the ebbing sentiment of heresy always managed to blight the red woman. She was a defector who had slipped from Siku's rule for her own ambitions -- and even though she still carried the name the bear matriarch had bestowed, Tuwawi did not feel any hold or responsibility to the clan.

A bit of relief flowed through her when Echelon revealed that Siku did not reside in these parts. She had felt nothing but love and loyalty for the leader years ago, but now only a nervous anxiety pooled when she thought her cover might be revealed. It was obvious that this vagrant was probably promised to Tartok -- the native tongue alone was enough to allude to her loyalty -- and so, Tuwawi was reluctant to reveal herself as a renegade. "She ruled Artayok Peak in a land called Seahawk," Tuwawi said plainly, quipping nothing but historical facts to shroud her own involvement, "her get, Tonravik, attempted to stake claim here. It didn't last."

A faint smile flashed across her features as the fiery matron called her bold; this was something that she was well aware of. Unlike her aokkatti, Echelon's youth lent her arrogance to the point of being overbearing and annoying. But she felt it had been worth a shot, nonetheless. Sometimes her directness paid off, though not too often. How her hide hadn't been torn from her yet was beyond imagination, though Tonravik had been a champion of hers for some time.

Following a brief history lesson that the inky Phase knew well, there came mention of her bearish champion. This surprised her inwardly, that Tonravik had been through, but whether or not this came before Echelon or during their previous scouting was beyond her. "Then luckily for Tartok that they have you to lie claim to here," she said, not betraying that she knew of Tonravik's prior attempt. "Your home is beautiful, one worthy of our kind."  Her tone softened with genuine admiration, and once more Echelon stole a lengthy look upon the glacier's ember glow. Her liking of it was no secret, though she had done what she could to stay hidden away from prying eyes in her study of it.

And following a further exchange of words, Echelon hastily decided to steal away into the night.