Wolf RPG

Backtracking sucked. Why she'd done it, well that remained to be seen. But something... Something called the hulking wolf here, sang her name like it was her heart's forgotten song. It drew her like a moth to a flame and the feeling that she was close enough to burn singed her nerves. Gold eyes searched rocky structure, head tilting up to let her gaze find... What?

A growl left her throat, irritated that she was on another wild goose chase. Searching for shit was not her strong point, especially when she didn't know what was calling her here. But she didn't stop, stubborn willed though she was. No, she moved up the slope, closing the distance between herself and whatever it was that made her feel... home sick. It was a feeling that she hadn't had since she first parted from Siku's side, but she'd been on a mission then and had to leave. There were many days she wished she hadn't but... Well, here she was.

And speaking of here, where the hell was here? She looked around again, like a sign would jump out and tell her. Black nose worked at the wind, scenting, trying to see if there was something in particular that was different, that would give her a hint as to what she was here for.

Tonravik knew what she backtracked for. Land. Good, strong, perfect land that would host she and hers. Namely, her cubs. For it was they who were her priority. Mountains were ideal; she simply needed to find the perfect one. Tonravik knew that when she saw it, she would know it. As she moved upward, Tonravik could already feel that this would not be it. There was no challenge in this climb (not for her), and Tonravik thrived in an environment where she could be challenged, where she grew stronger every day. This mountain had plenty... and currently, she moved along the trail of a stream. 

Her shoulders rolled, her gait loose as she prowled. Tonravik was not hunting, but her eyes scoured the land for things it would bring to her. Surely she would gain something on this trip, it would not be for naught. Be it herbs, or perhaps a location of particular interest, Tonravik would not leave today having wasted her time. Getting to know territories was something she enjoyed; Tonravik was the daughter of (what she had heard, and personally knew to be) the best tracker who had taken care to teach her cubs her trade. Her keen nose caught the scent of another wolf nearby, and Tonravik sniffed the earth and then stood upright, still and watchful.

She stopped, ears locking on to the point of sound, gold eyes following to fall on a dark form. Silence stretched as she stood still and proud before the other, mirroring her in her watchful stare. The was a splash of familiarity here, though she couldn't place a paw on what, exactly, it was. Wind rustled her fur, gently jostled her out of her observational state. Her tail flicked, starting a revolution of small motions as she nodded to the wolf. There was something nagging her in the far reaches of her mind, but she brushed it away for the sake of the here and now. 

A hardy wolf, she had always been, originally hailing from the desert before she'd left and found her way through the winding path of her life. Ups and downs, but very rarely had she had anything steady, and her sleeping pattern matched that. She slept when she felt like it and wandered at odd times, which led them here. Facing each other, that electric charge of I know you resonated in her. But she didn't know her, or her scent. 

There was no pack, and little companionship that clung to the female before her. No hint there. So then what was it? For now, she couldn't pin point it, but she would find out, one way or another. "Late night?" She rumbled, indicating the time, the fact that they were seemingly alone here on this child-sized mountain.

Tonravik looked to the silver wolf who was impressive in stature herself when she was addressed. Others seemed to think she was companionable, but truth be told she was not. Not to strangers, anyway. But this one was different. A niggling feeling of familiarity. Not in looks, but in the others way. Tonravik approached with a confident air to her, but paused a few feet away, her intent relatively clear. Of course, the black bear of a wolf wanted to smell the other, to perhaps see if she had been with any that she knew in recent times. There was something Tartok in the others look alone. 

The others question was met with a short nod. Indeed, it was. Tonravik would continue these late nights up until she had found a home. Her ears twitched atop her head as she looked to Kroc, taking a surprisingly ginger step forward, nostrils flaring. May I, the question presented itself in her dark gaze, and she lingered there. 

Words fell away into silence. They were not needed here and the fact that she had used them... Chalk it up to a moment of bad judgement. Gold irises swallowed those dark pupils as she watched the female, watched her approach and remained stock still, the wind in her fur the only movement at the moment. Distance between them closed further with a small step, the question in the wolf's eyes easily readable. 

A pause as she thought about the consequences of allowing someone so close, and normally, she'd have lifted her lips in snarling answer of "no". Yet, something about this felt... familiar. Right. A nod was given, allowing her into her personal space. Kroc did not do this without her own action, however, leaning close to scent her in kind. At first, there was that tingle of familiarity again, her ears flickering in frustration as she tried to place what it was.

Another breath drawn and --

Her eyes widened, flashing gold as she jerked back to examine the dark female. For a moment, the gears in her head turned to remember the words, remember the language. She was rusty, that was for damn sure, but the Inuktitut spilled from her mouth all the same. "You smell of Siku. Of home." However faint the smell was, it was still there. 

Wild eyes searched hers, searching for an answer, an explanation. Never had she thought that she would find one of her own here, of all places. And yet... "You're a loner?" Not truly, no. Not if she was of Tartok. Once and always part of the pack, they were never truly loners, but that was how the rest of the wolves likely saw them, not understanding the deep bond that ran between them. "What happened?" The idea that the pack had disbanded did not sit well with her but she wouldn't assume it had happened. Maybe this one was like Kroc herself, who hadn't wanted to leave Tartok but had needed to. Perhaps. She would wait for an answer before thinking any father down that path. 

Tonravik, when given consent, did not waste any time in acquainting herself with Kroc (albeit a little stiffly, keeping her guard well up) and sniffing at every nook and cranny to be found. It was Kroc who was able to pick up something particular off of her, and as Kroc jerked Tonravik stiffened, raising her head abruptly and baring her teeth, stepping aside to keep herself out of reach. The dark woman was on guard up until the other spoke in Inuktitut, and although the authentic pronunciation that meant one was reared to know the language as opposed to taught later in life was not there, Tonravik knew what it meant.

Her thick plume waved, held loftily now. Kroc had known her mother herself. There was no disputing this woman was Tartok, now; it pleased her. There was no drifting from the pact one made when becoming Tartok; anything else was temporary. They became family when they took the oath and the name. Blood is thicker than water, but nowhere near as refreshing. Perhaps the only blood loyalty she bore was to her mother and siblings, but that came due to them being Tartok as well. The wolves that became such earned equal loyalty.

Kroc was swift to answer her own question, and while the woman worked through her own mind, Tonravik remained quiet 'til the last one was said. "Nothing. Tartok has spread. I seek to spread it here." She would do so quietly. Tonravik would have her pack of warriors, and they would keep to themselves and keep all others out. Those who wanted to take the name could if they took the oath; there were many ways to go about it, but she wanted it to be as it always had been. Tartok was private. They let few in while keeping anyone else out. She was quiet, her demeanor still stony as it always was, but certainly there was an openness to her now that was not offered before.

Almost immediately, postures adjusted, relaxed a fraction as they regarded each other. The discovery that their roots had been lain in the same pack was all they needed, it seemed. There was none of the silver wolf's usual suspicion, as confirmation lay in the fact that this one knew the language she spoke and answered. The likelihood of another just offhandedly knowing the tongue of the Tartok wolves was slim to none. 

That nothing had happened to the pack settled her nerves and her muscles gave up some of their tight tension. "I will aid you." In truth, there was very little chance that her brother was alive. If this wolf before her accepted her company, Kroc would end her nomadic trek to track down her sibling and once more lay her head down in the lands of her true family. 

"I am Kroc." There wasn't much more that she felt the need to say, the oath she's taken binding her to this woman's side with no hesitancy or unsurity from the crocodilian. This was where she was meant to be, what she was meant to do. The draw here made sense now and Kroc's irritation at her chase of the unknown had virtually melted away in the face of what was transpiring now. 

Tonravik did not have to wonder for long if Kroc would run with Tartok here; her answer was immediate. The woman nodded, good. Tonravik was at ease, now, and having fully accepted Kroc and her commitment to Tartok, she felt there was nothing more to say there. Kroc would not have joined her so easily had things ended badly when she was with Tartok... in fact, Kroc would not be here at all. Any that became their enemy did not survive... and if they did, they were marked. Kroc had no telling signs of such a mark, and her loyalty to Tartok in that moment was expressed by her immediate willingness to join her.

It meant a lot.

The woman blinked as Kroc introduced herself, and Tonravik would give her own. "Tonravik. We have one other with us. Echelon." Echelon and Tonravik were strong wolves together, and with Kroc, even stronger. For Echelon was the quick whip and Tonravik the brute force. To have more force in their cause would never be a bad thing.

And just like that, she was bound the the dark creature. She had a home, not in a specific place but in those who would band together to bring Tartok to these wild lands. She nodded a confirmation and acceptance of her name and her other follower, branding them into her mind as surely as the mark on her flank was. At some point, she was sure she would meet this other, Echelon, but for now she had more important questions. 

"Have you found a place suitable?" Whether to claim or takeover, Kroc would assist with either, as Tonravik likely knew. She was just curious on if there was a plan yet. If not, she would follow all the same, her loyalty a muscle that was relearning it's methods of operation. It had been a while since she'd been around another so trusted but she also had no doubt that she would remember it all in little more than a flash. 

Tonravik shook her head. She had not found a suitable place, no. For a long time, she had looked. Tonravik did not know when she would ever find a suitable place... only that she would. The large woman rolled her shoulders and looked to her stone-colored subordinate. The large bear of a woman only knew that their home would be a mountain, as it always would be; Tartok wolves were mountain dwellers, after all.

The leader began to move, gesturing for Kroc to follow. The movement alone enabled Kroc to know her thoughts on the matter. They moved to search for a proper location... and Tonravik did not mind the amount of time it would take. This place did not seem right, but she would explore it with Kroc nonetheless.

No home yet. That was fine, as they'd have one eventually. Even if they did not and remained nomadic, Kroc had no issues following her leader. Tonravik threw a gesture her way and the silver pelted creature reacted, sliding into the familiar motion of exploring the land. Now at the dark she-wolf's side, her aim and exploration had purpose and meaning instead of wandering with abandon to see if she'd run into her brother. To have value in her life gave her a renewed sense of pride, a feeling that she would not so easily give up. 

They moved to survey the Keep but despite their trek, the two found nothing noteworthy and moved on to other locations, together. It was highly unlikely that Kroc would split off again now that she was with the Tartok wolves once again. 

Fade thread!

The woman was pleased to have a new companion. Kroc seemed like a strong woman herself, and would be a good wolf to have at her side. The more strength she had, the better. Tonravik independently was a strong wolf, but she could not do it all. Extra eyes and ears, pack, was what she needed. Her current pack was small but for the moment, it was enough. They were strong enough to bring down a meal together. Home was not truly the place, but the pack. But truth be told, she wanted her mountain, and she had the pack she wanted to take there.

This was not the place.

But she would explore it, knowing that if she found one good thing perhaps her time here was not futile. She would learn this land and come to know it herself. There was no herds around here, so this land was not ideal. Deciding there time here was done, Tonravik let out a bark to the other Tartok woman, and turned to leave with the woman at her side.