Although Jaws had been nomadic most of his life and had travelled across a vast assortment of terrains, hot springs were not something he had encountered before. The shadow-like coywolf was drawn to them by their curious scent, and now as he drew near the warmth and dampness in the air intrigued him more. Jaws approached cautiously, taking one calculated step after another. When he reached the edge of the nearest spring he dipped his head to the water's surface and sniffed deeply. Nothing about the water seemed amiss other than its temperature, so Jaws' tongue slipped out between his long canines and sampled it; it was hot - comforting - and pure.
A familiar chirp interrupted the silence and his eyes flicked over to see the gray jay alight on the snow at the edge of the spring, only two wolf-lengths away. It peered into the water before taking a peck at it, miming Jaws' actions. He stared with annoyance at the feathered flea, then quickly swiped a paw across the spring, sending a spray of water toward the bird, who fled with a shriek. A smirk creased his lips.
It had been a while since she'd left the Great Bear Wilderness- but even as a soon-to-be pack wolf, she just couldn't stay cooped up in the Gorge. Too boring, despite the paradise of a place it was. Journeying was her thing since that one fiery night months ago. She wasn't going to give it up just cause she was a Beta-to-be in a pack-to-be. Mara was probably okay with her exploring, right? And so she left. The sound of gurgling water baited her to the the Hot Springs. She wasn't sure what to expect of this place. Her green eyes flickered over to sounds of lapping- a dark male was drinking the water, a small jay next to him. And when she saw his eyes... She completely fell in love. It was so hot, those bi colored eyes on a dark man like that. When he smirked and swatted at the jay, she didn't stop to question why he wouldn't eat the little thing. She couldn't stand around watching any longer. So she came out of the undergrowth towards the springs. She kept a few feet away in respect, even though she wanted to go right up to him. Even though he was a lot older than her, she couldn't resist his handsome appearance. "Hello, Sir... What's your name?" She asked. Runt told herself she needed to be perfect. Therefore she needed to carefully phrase her words and keep her accent out of her voice... And go by a better name... And say she was at least a year... She could pass for a year, right? Maybe? ...Man, being perfect was hard.
Jaws turned his gaze on the approaching female - a particularly small wolf colored in the hues of the earth. She looked young, and a bit roughed up but in healing. When she greeted him, he let out a soft laugh. "Sir... ha!" he swished his tail, as if to sweep away the formality, for Jaws was certainly not decorous. "You wolves around here, always so proper.". Indeed, she was the second wolf so far to address him as sir. He was hardly used to be addressed at all. In true Jaws' fashion, he answered her inquiry with jest. "You can call me whatever you want. Just don't call me late for dinner. Or Fluffy."
Runt couldn't stop staring into those handsome eyes as he spoke. She was slightly insulted when he called her 'proper'. To Runt, it was an insult. But at least he had acknowledged her. Does he like me? She thought nervously. When he said what not to call him, she chuckled. Sense of Humor- Check. Runt thought as a smile touched her lips. "I'm not usually proper. I'll usually call... you dude or bro. But I was... trying... to be respectful." She said. Before each word that was usually accented by her, she had to pause about a second to think about what it should sound like. It made it sound like she had some sort of slight speaking disability, which she realized was not that attractive. Oh well, maybe it was better than her slave camp accent? "I guess I'll call... you, hmmm... Magma?" She said with a grin. It had something to do with his eyes, one orange, one silver. It reminded her of lava and volcanoes and magma.
"I see..." Jaws drawled with a fluid roll of his shoulders, paying no mind to the forced manner in which she spoke. He understood what she was trying to do, but as one who spent his entire life alone respect had a different meaning for him than for most, especially those who were pack wolves or at least spent a fair amount of time in the company of others. Most of Jaws' social encounters were brief and often very... tangible... in nature.
When she offered to call him by Magma, he quirked a brow and contemplated it briefly. "Hm... I think I can put up with that." He honestly did not care what she called him. Jaws was accustomed to never seeing the same face twice, it was normal for him to neither give a name nor receive one. "Now what can I do for you, girl?" he queried, with a twitch of his ears. In most cases Jaws would be on the hunt for a bit of tail but he did not believe this she-wolf to be mature and he had little interest in fruits that weren't ripened. "I'd like to get back to... whatever it is I am doing."
This time around, he seemed much more serious, which in Runt's opinion was often not a good sign. She realized she hadn't thought up a reason for sticking around. In the next four seconds she had thought up one. "Do ...you like ...fighting? I'm ...looking to practice my skills and I was ...wondering if ...you could spar with me?" She said, proud of her excuse. Not only would she get to hang out with Magma longer, she could sharpen up her warrior skills too, if he accepted.
It seemed the she-wolf was reluctant to leave him be so soon, but that was not uncommon for most wolves who were far more social than Jaws was used to being. Superfluous conversation was not his forte, but apparently that was not what was on the female's mind anyway. She asked if he enjoyed fighting, a question Jaws was genuinely surprised by, showing in his raised brows. Although he had proven himself effective in combat before, it was not something he sought and he had never had the opportunity to spar for the sake of training. What he had learned he learned the hard way, and at great risk.
"Fighting?" he reiterated, before commenting on her current state of health. "My dear, it looks like you might have been fighting enough. Besides," he paused, glancing over her with exaggerated movements, "I don't think we'd be a good match." She was a very small, thin wolf; Jaws' rugged body towered above hers. It would be akin to a stallion scuffling with a little filly.
Runt frowned and her hackles rose. Suddenly her mind was off his appearance. He'd insulted her. Had he known her name he probably would've laughed. If there was one thing that frustrated Runt, it was an insult to her size. And she took this as an insult. "Oh yeah? I could last one more battle if I've already been through this many! And I think I'm a fair match." She narrowed her eyes. It wasn't for her to control anyway. Blame her mom or something for her size. She didn't control it, she didn't want it. "It's not my fault I'm small, anyway." She muttered grumpily. She was sick of being tiny, all it had done so far was ruin what could've been nice childhood and turn it into slavery.
Clearly the coywolf had struck a chord with the female, as she reacted with hostility to his comments which were not intended as an insult in any way, just a factual observation. Jaws was quick to draw the conclusion that her diminutive size was a sore spot for her, but that did not sway his opinion that they were not a good match for a spar and did nothing to interest him in giving her the chance to prove otherwise. "I see you make up for it in spirit." Jaws answered calmly with a flick of his tail, giving her a moment to calm down or stew herself into more anger, whichever came first.
ty for the thread! Sorry for my delays. Last post from me!
She sighed, now reminded of her disappointment in her runtiness and her depression from it. Only reminded, not in it. She glanced up at him and frowned. "Yeah. Spirit'll really help ya win a war." She muttered sarcastically, quietly as well. She had become disinterested now. It was obvious he had no interest in her, not only that, but her tiny size. She'd given up. "Well, I guess I'll see ya 'round, bro." She said, and with a final look at him, turned to dart off through the trees, and back towards Whitewater.
Thanks!
With regards to her dejected comment, Jaws wanted to offer an old but fitting cliche - that it was not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog; but the young female had hurried to depart his company before his tongue formed the words. She was young yet, he figured as he watched her disappear into the distance, she had a long time to learn that she was not defined by her stature. The coywolf turned back to the hot spring, this time dipping a paw in. It felt so soothing, that soon his entire body followed and he bathed leisurely.