Wolf RPG

Word had slipped to her one way or another that another follower of Tartok had caught up with them. Naturally, Echelon carried interest of this particular individual. And he would not be a hard individual for her to track down because for some innate reason, all Tartok wolves were drawn to one another. Tonravik had spent her time with him and though she had no name to go with a face, or hell, even an image to go with that no-name face, she was confident she would find him.

And it wasn't necessarily a meet or greet that drew her out — she wanted to be sure to make certain that he knew his place. With a territory all their own, it was of no surprise that her own jealousy had come creeping into the frame with her aokkatti. Her own sycophantasies had come into play as well, as she had served as Tonravik's supporter for a far longer time than any of these who came crawling and creeping up into her service. And it was a title that she wanted for herself. Putting any possible competition down or into their place was simply apart of the plan.

But it was more than that, she would have reasoned. If he claimed to be a wolf of Tartok, then he needed to be tested. Not just by Tonravik, but by them all. And that was what she sought to do here, letting nature and whatever subtle magics of the world to do the rest for her. The natural law and order, or whatever it was. She had no words for it, nothing that would have tied together was simply instinct for her.

Ivitaruk’s creamy muzzle nudged the last bit of dirt upon the newly placed cache – his trust in the pack’s possessions given their sudden change in leadership was unsettled, and when he was not ranging along the borders, the man was hunting.. and learning the lay of the land. He had lucked out when he had come across the pheasant earlier, and his scouting journey had instead taken a turn to help feed the pack – though not before sampling a morsel for himself.

Pulling back to regard his work with mild contentment, the copper man smoothed his tongue across his lips, cleaning the blood that had settled there form his snack. One last glance for good measure reassured him of his duty to the Spine, and turning, the Tartok wolf began to find his way to the borders for one more sweep.

He, instead, found a rather slender she-wolf. Her pelt could have rivaled Tonravik’s own had ivory not brushed her shoulders and chest. Casting a cool gaze upon her, Ivitaruk slowed his pace down, noting she scented thickly of the woman he followed. This was only reassuring in the sense that the she-wolf had either accepted Tonravik as her new ruler.. or always had. One ear flickered in uncertain greeting – Ivitaruk was not a wolf of many words, and so he allowed the silence to stretch between them, though his pace did begin to slow.

Their paths crossed brilliantly but without flourish. It was as though this forest had brought them to each other, which it may as well have. If she believed in such things as fate or destinies, perhaps Echelon would have felt that way. Instead she found her tracking skills to be sufficient and noted that perhaps Ivitaruk was just a creature of habit. She chuffed once at him as he slowed, her posturing going into effect. There was only one spot beneath Tonravik that any of them could have in her eyes and she would command them to bend to her will. The thought of simply striking out at him crossed her mind, but she waited and watched, and studied. She wanted to see how he would receive her, see how well he passed whatever test she concocted up on the spot.

The swarthy female was one whose scent he recognized as the most prominent upon his Alpha's pelt. Blinking at her as she stacked herself higher, Ivitaruk did not hesitate when he allowed his own tail to drop neutrally, his muzzle to graze just a little bit lower than before. Being so newly accepted within the ranks, the Tartok warrior was not yet ready to make waves -- first, he needed to see what it was he was up against.. and if she even needed to be put in place.

But this intent did not stop his own curiosity of who she could possibly be -- was she a warrior? A healer? A scout? "Ivitaruk," was all he spoke for the moment, announcing his name, for if they were to be pack mates, they would surely become familiar with one another sooner rather than later.

Ivitaruk. She was not surprised of the nomenclature, as they all shared names along those lines. She supposed that she had somewhere herself as well, if not many, but in truth Echelon had always been fond of borrowing the name she had heard her father speak to undesirables. Her own name was not of their shared tongues; where it came from was entirely beyond her.

Still, she was pleased that he did not outright challenge her, or let her short stature betray that she was capable of handling herself. It was enough to allow her to ease, though she still appraised him coolly. "Echelon," she returned, understanding the exchange for what it was and nothing more. With a swift gesture for him to follow, she pressed on then, changing direction. Like others before and no doubt those to come after him, she found knowledge of themselves came best through some mediocre, never-ending stockpile of work to be done.