This land smelled soft. Zoratto sensed it the moment they were led into the valley. It was not the treeless, hard open plains of Rhaesh Dahaan, far from it. These plains were made of short, green blades of grass that felt soft on the young Ezok-to-be's paws. The smell of bison was nonexistent, which worried the young captive. It proved to him that this was a godless place, even if it was soft.
He followed the former Khal, his gray-green eyes occasionally sliding to glare at Rhanno. He brought them here. The thought further fueled the hatred Zoratto had for his captors, making him bare his teeth in anger.
Juanth govak, svaklar re wux leading udoka? The young man snarled, more towards himself than anything.
The choice to leave his wife and the female captive hadn't been a hard one to make, considering the boy he now had in tow was growing ever the more protective of young Navi. He was more pained by the fact that he had abandoned a hopeful wife for himself. When she came of age, she would be his, and he had simply walked away from that opportunity, leaving her with Eshinni to do as she pleased. But they just couldn't take the chance that the pair would rebel and overthrow their older captors. Rhanno still had bulk and strength, but he tired quickly, and Zoratto had youth on his side. They had to separate them, as much as it pained Rhanno to leave his females (though it was Navi he pined for rather than Eshinni).
Turning to his captive as he suddenly broke the silence that had settled between the two, the man's perpetual scowl deepened. He ignored him, trying instead to pick up the scent that had wavered in intensity ever since they entered this foreign country. It was the unmistakable scent of bison, something that smelt like their homeland. The wolf who carried it was male, and had company, if Rhanno's nose wasn't lying. He paused to raise his head, cracking it before glancing dismissively at Zoratto. "Si ornla thesek dout ooble, drot," he warned, canting his head slightly as if to challenge the youth.
"Tir wux ti keefum batobot?" He was, of course, referring to the scent he had been trailing, for it now wafted towards them. Faint, but recognisable. He was here.
Rhanno's threats still had a semblance of weight to him. The old man could still bite, something that he found out often. But Zoratto was growing faster as Rhanno grew slower; the gray and red wolf could dodge the man without a hint of exertion on his part. He simply rolled his eyes and walked beside the old man, wondering what he was trailing. Ui coi rhyaex, juanth govak? Si mi nugriup. He licked his lips, wondering what kind of prey they had around here, and if it was easy to catch and delicious to eat.
He breathed in the faint scent that Rhanno was referring to, as it got subtly stronger. Vi khal? He said, pushing his head in to take in more of the scent. Algbo, sva gekip wux tepoha ti dronilnra udoka ekess wer kihlek di thric svaklar, juanth sthyr.
The youth's further questions were dismissed by the older wolf, who was more focused on finding a solid trail they could follow. He wasn't an adventurous type, and truthfully found scouting out new lands a little daunting. Social dominance and physical prowess he enjoyed and had mastered. Navigation, not so much. He hoped to find this unknown wolf soon, eager to know what a khal was doing so far from the plains. It wasn't unheard of for them to split and form their own ranks to claim new territories (oh, how Rhanno knew all about that), but they were bison herders — and he saw no bison around here.
A khal? Zoratto's comment received a simple grunt in reply, before Rhanno paused and lifted his head into the breeze. A mixture of scents then hit him, all foreign and different and strange. He had half a mind to just turn and head back to the plains, but he quickly reminded himself why he had left in the first place. There was also the possibility that there were already Khalas here. The very thought brought a determined spark to the man's eye; hope that perhaps he had another shot at becoming a khal once again. His pride had taken a beating after Tihollo took his throne, but his ambitions were still high. "Sjek yth ehtah khalas," he rumbled, fixing Zoratto in his gaze. "Si mi ekess tir wer ukrisir." He couldn't have his own captive messing up his chances.
Rhanno, true to his normal persona, only responded with a grunt. The tall Ezok-to-be merely tilted his head as Rhanno raised his withered old one. The young Dotharan saw the glint in his eye, something far too familiar. It was similar to the gaze he had when he was "appreciating" Navi's blossoming into a young woman, though lacking the lust for a woman's touch. This was the look of ambition, the desire for something that one does not have. Zoratto distrusted this look, especially on Rhanno's old mug.
Sjek, juanth sthyr. Sjek. The captive matched Rhanno's gaze defiantly. He might have been submissive and somewhat courteous to the govak before, but that was when he had a khalas. When he was powerful. Now, he was nothing but an old fart who was definitely. going to get himself killed if he ever tried to become khal again. Zoratto only stayed with him this long so he could protect Navi, and now just so he could find a khalas and be trained as an actual Dotharan. Mobi ui thric bison tenpiswo. Thric khalas ornla spend vi kear persvek tikil thaczil, tangis sjek coi jahus gloma mrith riches, sjek mobi jahus thric bison. Nomeno tiliw qe juanth gazziz ihk shio yth vucot.
The boy had gall, he had to give him that much. Though, bravery and wit only got one so far if they hadn't the power behind them and, judging by his captive's size, he needed a lot more than his sharp tongue if he was to make anything of himself. Not that Rhanno believed he had any lofty ambitions besides trying to get away from him (and protect his oh so beloved Navi). He wasn't even sure what he would do with the boy. He fancied grooming him to be a slave, but the coyotes were fine enough for the job; they were weak in mind and body, eager to please so long as they were fed. Zoratto had already near reached Rhanno's height. He had to ensure he didn't underestimate him and make the same mistake as he did Tihollo.
He was tempted to cuff the boy over the back of the head for his cheek but decided it wasn't worth the energy, instead steeling his gaze and pushing onwards. If anything, they were bound to come across something to eat soon — these plains seemed to stretch on forever. Bison, however, seemed to be off the table. "Juanth scents re ti nomeno versvesh," he murmured, partly to himself. Though an inkling of doubt began to seep into his mind, wondering if they really would find these elusive Khalas. He discarded the thought with a rough shake of his head. There were some sense to Zoratto's words, but he was vexed that the boy doubted his own common sense. The Dotharan had a connection to the bison that went back generations. Rhanno wasn't a spiritual man but he respected tradition and the ways of their culture. Of course they wouldn't find Khalas if there were no bison. "Tir ti wux siofme vucoti batobot, drot?" he shot back with a hint of a snarl, casting a half glance Zoratto's way. He paused for a moment before fixing his eyes onto the towering mountains in the distance.
"Besides, tangis sjek yth tir ti ehtah nomenoi khalas," he began. "Svabol xurwkic wux siofme si geou notform sia kurjh."
Zoratto trotted ahead of Rhanno, his eyes searching for any sign of...anything. This land, however soft, was painfully dull. Even the mountains looked boring and devoid of life. Zoratto did not have the years of experience that Rhanno had; he had not outgrown the strong religious ties the Dotharan had to the bison herds. If he would ever outgrow it, he would not know. But regardless, he felt uneasy being in such a strange land without the familiar scents of home. He would gladly sell himself as a slave if it meant tasting bison again (a hyperbole, he would never do that).
The red-eared boy sucked his teeth, defiant. Sjek wux vucot nomeno khalas geou ti qe tenpiswo, hak kii re wux wiilirkir nomeno gazziz? The boy hissed, his fangs bared back at the old man. With that, he ran ahead of him, his long legs devouring the ground beneath him as he expelled his anger the best way he could. This old bastard was pissing him off.
He stopped and wheeled around, waiting for Rhanno, but when he saw the man had paused, the gray-green eyed boy ran back. He laughed when he heard Rhanno's declaration. Wux? Khal tenamalo? Kwi, tagoa batobot tawurada zyak algbo annyo tairais. He rolled his eyes in full view of Rhanno. He remembered watching as Rhanno's son took control of his whole entire khalas from underneath his nose, then kicked him, his mother, Navi and Zoratto out. It brought him such joy to see Rhanno taken down so low, even as he was cast out with him. Svabol lyrik dotharan tir wux ocuir tenpiswo, besides ve? He chuckled. Vur svanoa tir wux vucot batobot nomenoi kaldakai renthisj hesi ooble?
The boy ran ahead on his long, quick legs after his biting retort, but Rhanno made no move to chase after him, knowing full well he couldn't really get too far from him. It wasn't that he would be able to catch him — as much as it pained him to admit, he was old and slow and was barely able to chase after even the slowest of rabbits — but the lands stretched on endlessly and Zoratto was an easily seen speck of silver amongst the greens and browns. Rhanno had become quite familiar with his scent, too, and would have no trouble finding him if he were to sum up the courage to actually run off.
As expected, the boy did indeed stop and turn to wait for Rhanno, who easily made his way towards him with purposefully slow, calculated steps. He kept his gaze upon the mountains, his lips only twitching slightly as the boy laughed. He allowed him to speak some more, further doubting his assumptions about the Khalas, even questioning if they spoke their tongue. Rhanno silently continued walking a few more moments before he suddenly spun on his heel and lunged at his irritating captive, aiming to press him against the ground with his bared teeth inches from his throat.
"Wux forget, drot," he rumbled, orange eyes dancing with fury and ambition, staring straight into Zoratto's own green and grey mix. "Svanoa si earned wux. Josso vur jacida kaldakai wielga zyak easily — si lamitha sventir jacion — lae si geou lamith sventir tikil lyrik svaust stands persvek sia idol." He let the boy draw his own conclusions from that, before stepping off him and backing away, eyes trained upon him should he fight back.
Zoratto saw the attack in Rhanno's muscles before he attacked. He jumped back, narrowly missing the old man's fangs. He could feel the air being pressed out by his jaws as they snapped together. When he was a safe distance away from Rhanno, the young boy met the elder's gleaming orange eyes and balked at their fury. He backed away, baring his fangs warningly. A shudder went through him as he remembered how Josso was torn apart by Rhanno, but youthful defiance coarsed through him, something that was bound to get him killed someday.
Sjek wux re zyak versel.... The boy's eyes became hard, and the deep, booming voice that gave him his name was growing lower with anger. Hak kii tira ti wux filki svent Tihollo, usv diurzotreth jacion ekik instead, huh? He snarled, baring his fangs at the man. Sjek wux re zyak versvesh vur versel, hak kii tira ti wux nakta rihlilg svern dout kurjh xsio khalas?!
The youth was spry, easily moving out of the way of Rhanno's attack. It was a given that Zoratto had predicated his move; he had lost count of how many times he had sought to punish the boy after even the smallest acts of defiance. Physical punishment was the only way Rhanno really knew how to keep subordinates in line. Besides, it had worked so well for so long, and it was the way of the Dotharan. His teaching methods were becoming less and less powerful, however, especially as his captive aged and grew stronger as he himself became more...frail.
He clicked his teeth back at the boy, tempted to try and take him down again. He backed away, though, instead moving past Zoratto and watching him from the corner of his eye lest he try something. It stung, the reminder that he had been overthrown by his own son, but Rhanno only flattened his ears in response, letting a low rumble reverberate from his throat echoing his captive's own deep voice. "Astahii jahen plythu," he growled, falling silent after his curt reply. They had followed him to the ends of the earth, before revealing their true traitorous selves once Tihollo had taken the reigns. If he had known his wolves were so weak-willed, he would have dispersed long ago. While it was known that to lose a fight was pathetic — especially at his age, especially against his own son — Rhanno had expected more from his Khalas. He only hoped the pack and the Khal they were following weren't so feeble.
"Thric, wux jahen!" He snarled. That fact that Rhanno was so short sighted made Zoratto furious. How could he not see that he was the one that was weak and it was time for him to step down. Old men should learn to know when their time was up. "Wer khalas jahus othokent. Astahii vucata batobot wux jahen itrewicir plythu, vur thric khalas geou wiilirk vi plythu maekrix hefoc wux." A part of him wished to return to that khalas. Zihollo seemed smarter and stronger than his father ever was, at any age. At least back there, he had a chance to live, to become a Dotharan warrior. Here, he was lost in an unfamiliar land, detached from the only friend he had left here, with a disgusting old man.
Rhanno gave no hint that he had heard Zoratto's snarls and insults, instead keeping his gaze focused on the distant mountains, expression sour and sullen as it usually was. Despite his captive's words, he was still firm in his belief that his Khalas were the ones at fault here. There was no doubt that they were all just waiting for the right time to turn against him, thinking that Tihollo was the more capable leader. That man would lead them to ruin, Rhanno was sure of it. He was no son of his anymore.
With a grunt, the wolf rolled his scarred shoulders, feeling his bones creak and weary muscles burn from their arduous trek. He was still a warrior, despite his age and greying features, cutting a formidable figure that dwarfed many others his age. Dark eyes turned to Zoratto, studying his slim form with disgust that he did not care to conceal. He didn't retort, too weary to argue with the boy, instead simply fixing him in his gaze, waiting for any other moronic statements to escape from his mouth.
Even if Rhanno did not admit it, the young boy had verbally defeated him. His deep, booming voice was cutting, he knew. When the man failed to reply, the silver-masked boy smiled, watching him roll his shoulders as if to shrug his insults off. But words cut deeper than fangs, he knew. And fear cuts even deeper. Rhanno turned towards him, and Zoratto's smile fell away. He glared at the man, his pale eyes meeting Rhanno's dark.
"Algbo?" He snapped. "Re wux gethrisjir ekess nakta staring sva ve usv re wux gethrisjir ekess widegoa leading ve, 'kwi jennu Khal'?"
Apologies for the wait! And I'll wrap this thread up :D
Silence enveloped the area as the two wolves began a staring contest, before Zoratto disrupted it once more. Rhanno let his captive's sarcastic comment slide off him once more before releasing a grunt, the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance as he began to stride forward ahead of the young boy. His patience had worn thin; no doubt Zoratto's had as well.
A rest would do them good before they continued their search for the Khalas.