Wolf RPG

Heavy rain came down through the newly leafed canopies on that particular day, but this did little to deter Echelon from venturing beneath them as she scoped out the bowl-like basin of the Spine.  Given the meeting she had still kept her guard up in the aftermath.  They had every reason to be leery of these wolves here, just as those wolves had every reason to be leery of them.  But they were there to give direction to the pack when there was none, or at least if there had been the semblance now resembled something aimless.  Disintegrating, perhaps.

And the wolves here, well, Echelon thought much of them already.  Fit beings that if they outlasted such turbulent change would make fine additions to the breadth of Tartok.  Much like the wolves of the former glacier, she suspected that these creatures were less ruled by just one being and perhaps more secular in their emotions.  Collectively they were a pack, but she sensed that they were their own individuals.  Much like herself, while similar to Tonravik was less of a communicator.  Echelon commanded her own respect subtly, perhaps even more meticulous than her bearish counterpart.  She knew where to poke and prod her alpha, knew where not to go and especially knew how to soothe the tempers that rose from time to time.

With Tonravik's heat either gone or at least mute for the time being, they had gotten along much better anyway.  She did not feel in competition for something or against someone and even so, was willing to humor her aokkatti by continuing her exploration of their new home.  But she would not do this alone, not until certainty had reached the core of her instinct and mind and said that it was better to venture alone.  So she sought out Kroc, following the trail left behind from the rallying point to where she hoped the equally boarish creature would be lurking.  Perhaps this lesser known companion would humor her by joining up with her intriguing task.

The wolves of this pack were lacking, in her eyes. Lacking in discipline, forethought, common sense, you name it. The meeting had proved that of at least a few, though the white female in particular. Had Tonravik not descended upon her, surely herself or Echelon would have done much the same. From that point forward, her idea of the others was tainted but surely they would see how they would all shape as time went on, the ones that stayed anyway. 

From the gathering of canids, Kroc had departed to go continue her study of these lands. Her body, though tired, was used to pushing through deprived of sleep. She would catch up on it later, as her mind did not experience the same feelings. The wolf held herself (and others) to tough standards and always had, which made her judgmental of wolves she did not know. It was part of why she'd been a loner for so long, why she'd never been in a pack after the initial faction of Tartok. 

The thoughts that rolled through her mind came to a halt as she did so physically too. Ears moved atop her head, listening, her nose working to scent the wind. There was another close by, though she was unfortunately upwind and couldn't get a lock on who it was. Rather than circling back to confront the wolf, Kroc waited, her large frame unadapted to ambushes and silent movements as it was. It was more her personality to stand and meet who tailed her and she would do just that, though the creature was not disappointed when the other came into view. 

A slight wave of her tail displayed at least an amicable disposition. "Echelon," She greeted. Of the others, excluding Tonravik, the dark female's company was preferred. "Need something?" Short and to the point, Kroc's tone wasn't abrasive, but curious. Obviously, her own footsteps had been followed, and this meeting wasn't by chance. 

She found the pale behemoth lurking in the depths with some relative ease. Unlike the heavy storm clouds overhead, Kroc stood out in the darkness where Echelon made her attempts to meld with it. She regarded Echelon with relative ease, though the display of greeting was minor in comparison to the words that were forthcoming. Their preference of who they kept company with was likewise though, but did little to stop the terseness that rumbled out of the pint-sized wolf.

"We need to continuing scouting the territory." There was something unspoken in that tone, something that even she could not keep out of it. It was a request that Kroc would come along with Echelon. She pressed on ahead of the pale female, feeling it necessary to take the lead. There were few places of particular interest that had grabbed her attention, but this was not just a scouting task alone. If there were still any loyalists of the former alpha hiding out on the fringes of where they had roamed thus far, she wanted to smoke them out.

And somehow, she doubted Kroc would object to that.

The wolves of Tartok seemed to be similar in their demeanors. There were small nuances here and there that allowed them to understand one another with fewer words than most. This was displayed in Kroc's greeting and in Echelon's reply; succint and without fluff. They didn't need it, for fluff was useless. What benefit did dancing around a subject, or using fifty words where five would do, bring? None whatsoever. Not in her mind at least.
 
She nodded at the suggest and allowed Echelon to join her in what she'd already been doing. Large paws carried her forwad, after the wolf to draw her nearly even with the smaller female. In silent gestures, Kroc acknowledged her dominance and her higher rank — for now. Things would always be changing and if the woman slipped, Kroc would not hesitate to catch her on it, just as someone would likely do to Kroc, if they had the chance. Such was the way of their world and there were no hard feelings behind the motive.
 
"The former alpha ran off with a male. Their scent twines on the borders farther to the West. They may be back." To reclaim land. To claim the loyalty of their once-followers. To just stir up shit with the new leader. Whatever the cause, the chance was there. If those fools took that chance, they would be met with teeth and snarls and violence unmatched. Kroc wouldn't have fools like that lingering around their borders; doing so was just simply begging to be torn apart. To put it simply, should they come back to reclaim followers, they would die.

They made good time, not filling it with pleasantries or small talk. Kroc was just as quick to offer information to Echelon, which the pint-sized wolf was very appeased with. Knowing this changed everything for her and subtly, she changed their course towards the west. Though she considered the overall likelihood of the former alpha to return after abandoning her pack, she would not out-rule the possibility. She knew that Tonravik wouldn't and in turn, there was little reason for her to grow cocky of their new found claim.

"We should be sure to keep checking that trail then, make sure it grows stale." If this alpha wanted to lie in wait like a snake in the grass and hope that they would grow complacent, then she would be wrong. They would sever the head from the snake. "Perhaps mark it more, as a warning to others." The changeover was a tumultuous time and this she was keenly aware of. The fact that subordinates in that meeting had been brazen enough to briefly challenge Tonravik told her that anyone could have tried to swoop in. At least, that was her thought on the matter.

Crossing over a thin branch of a brook, Echelon let her own gaze wander as they pressed ahead. There was much to this land, so much variety. Too many pockets for wolves to shy away in, which she suspected some of them would be doing. Time would change that.

There was a slight change in there direction after Kroc spoke, something she took note of and appreciated from the black canine. It was an important piece of information and while she was not a social creature by any means and trusted a seldom few but this, at least, told her that Echelon was not a complete moron. Which meant she was already higher on Kroc's list than most

They moved in silence, her lack of objection her way of agreeing with the change in their plans. These wolves, these deserters would not be allowed back for any reason, not even to linger at the borders and remember their good times here. All they'd get then would be teeth marks on their ass as they were chased away, giving them a good reminder of what they'd lost when they'd left. 

Time passed and they approached the Western border; Kroc paused to squat, marking their territory, standing then to kick the grass and dirt up with her hind feet, effectively spreading the scent to warn away any trespassers, former leaders and otherwise. The quiet between them did not bother the pale creature, moving with Echelon again until they reached the next spot either of them desired to mark.

They reached their destination without fanfare and set to work, marking steadily along the border. Out there the ambient din of the wilderness engulfed them; she smelled Tonravik out here strongly in spite of their issumator's lack of presence. This did not surprise her because she felt that if anything, her aokkatti and she were of similar mindset. Tonravik would have been marking along here just as strongly as they were. This pack was theirs now, and nothing would tear it away from their grasp.

Beneath that fact, the fading scent of the former alpha lingered. She pressed forward, following the trail left in her wake only to pause and mark along it. The wolves who stayed needed no swaying, not by a days old scent of someone who had so crisply abandoned them. Nor would this former wolf of status come back to their terrain with open arms. Open jaws perhaps, she could not help but think humorously.

Now that they'd picked up the trail, they worked to cover it, to let it fade away under their stronger, fresher scents. From the night they'd arrived, Kroc had wondered about this has-been alpha, the one that cared nothing for her pack and displayed as such by her unforgivable disappearance. How shitty of a leader did you have to be to do something like that? Apparently one like this female. Her boyfriend wasn't any better in Kroc's mind, either, though his scent was much more faint, as if he had only stopped by and then stolen her away.

Fools.

"How long have you run with Tartok?" She asked idly, in their pack's natural tongue. Kroc was a bit rusty with her words; she had learned on her own, under Siku's reign and while her vernacular wasn't perfect, she got her point across nonetheless. Figuring she'd rather know a little more about Echelon than any of the others for the moment, the question wasn't wholly unwarranted, though if the dark wolf deflected and chose not to answer, that was fine too.

Just when she grew accustomed to the silence that had fallen between them, Kroc posed a question. For a moment, Echelon said nothing as she drew her snout up from the earth, eyes bearing down on the mess of growth ahead of them. It came to her sharply though what tongue that Kroc spoke; it's roughness intrigued her. Few spoke in that tongue for good reason. Her gaze turned then, seeking out the palely colored female for a moment's glance.

"Since my beginning," she answered then, replying back in their so-called native tongue. She had always been a wolf of Tartok. Her father had been a wolf of Tartok, though his beginnings were not as grand as the progeny he had helped create. The same could have been said of her mother, though she was long gone and dead. One of Siku's soldiers that had been lucky enough to die a noble death.

Her ears cupped backward, catching the call of a goose somewhere overhead. Flying away, southerly for all she knew. It was but a distraction from the question she decided to return to the beastly canine. "How long have you?"

Kroc was generally a quiet wolf unless you got her in a nasty, mouthy mood. Then, she was a foul-mouthed heathen. But this was different. The wolves of the Spine were her family, as it were, and she would gradually come to know each of them as they were. Her interest in Echelon lay in the fact that she had Tonravik before the taking of the Spine; to her, it meant that either she had been picked up the dark wolf along the way or run with the Inuit pack before. There were certain things that made her think it was the latter. 

That suspicion was confirmed with the dark female's answer. A nod acknowledged her words, head turning to seek the source of the avian cry. It was of no consequence, nowhere close to their location, which meant that they could not catch it. Kroc did not favor birds as food anyway, their meat stringy and dull compared to the succulent tang of deer or elk meat.

The question made her refocus. "I ran with Siku, in the beginning of Tartok." Many times, Kroc wished that she had not gone to find her brother but what was done was done and there was no sense looking back. Such reminiscing got you nowhere. Looking forward had gotten her here, and that was what mattered.

The beginning of Tartok? This only piqued Echelon's interest because she had not thought Kroc to be much older than she. But that certainly changed her opinion of her slightly, if only for the sake of where they stood in comparison to one another in time. Whether or not Siku was the start of Tartok was another story altogether, one that Echelon probably should have known but did not. She cared little for the tales some had been told. That was their station in life, to gather that knowledge. But it was station not suited for her, who prefered the thrill of battle and the usage of guile than talk.

It would be no different here either, as she had no reply to offer. Though she was curious to some extent why Kroc was aside from Siku, why she had never seen her before, she found that it did not matter. For all she knew, perhaps she had been dispatched to hold some other territory beneath their reign, just as she was certain between them and where they were now, there would be little battalitions popping up. Like a legion army spread across the earth, they would consume land strategically and invite the willing into their fold. And they would keep them if they could, just as they would these wolves of the Spine.

Time had never meant much of anything to the pale creature. She was approaching five years but what did that matter? It didn't. She barely remembered her age as it was of no importance to her as she did not feel the need to bear parasites into the world. Her prime would end when it ended and she wouldn't care, just as she didn't care now. Leave a legacy? Bullshit. She'd leave a path of butthurt individuals who had some shiny new assholes ripped out for them.

Another place to squat, hind paws then kicking up the dust and dirt to spread their scent. Those who ventured here would have no way of not  knowing who these land belonged to, and Kroc would happily decorate the borders with their spines to remind others of what it meant to come against them.

The two progressed in their duties, silence having fallen between them once again. The borders were a broad sort of thing and the two were hardly tethered together, spacing out and closing in as they saw fit. Beyond those borders, where the stench of the old queen lingered, Echelon branched out to cut off any notion that she had ever existed. Whatever small talk may have persisted between the two, but they were efficient in their decided task and once that task had been completed, Echelon parted from Kroc for other things.