Wolf RPG

From the scent on the woods, to the marks on the borders nearest this heavily traveled path, Razorback knew she'd found them. The receptors in her brain screamed familiar, familiar; here is Tartok; she flicked an ear at the images it conjured. Of Siku's unwavering resolve, her mission, and the tangible feeling of purpose she gripped tightly to as she made her way up to the fringes of the border. Surely the progeny, Tonravik, would recognize her mother's scent. It served as both a marker and an armor, protecting her from what would normally be fang and claw. 

Her paws brought her to the threshold, and it is was here she stopped. Both mahogany ears twisted forward, listening to the birdsong in the woodland, and straining to pick up the sound of wolves beneath it. Her molten-orange eyes darted to and fro, but she did not fear.

She waited. 

The leader had caked herself in mud. 

The days would get so hot that there were few other ways to survive them; so on top of being inactive during the hours the sun began to warm the lands, she looked the part of a swamp monster. While upon most it might be a humorous look, Tonravik wore it well; it did nothing to change her already unattractive appearance, for she was a simple "beauty". 

A strange scent came to her nose. A scent Tonravik would never forget. If ever someone smelled of power, it was her mother. Tonravik strove to embody the woman, but had become her own wolf, equally as savage, simply relatively more calculating. Not logical, though; none of her cubs would inherit the ability to differentiate logic from instinct, because instinct was the only logic there was in the wilds. 

The alpha moved toward the scent, even her own pre-estrus curbed for the briefest of moments, an anxiety that her mother had come for one reason or another pressing upon her. But it was not she that Tonravik came across, and her pending heat caused her insides to roil at her own stupidity. Siku would not come; Siku led, and could not. But here was a small piece of her. 

Tonravik moved through the shrubs rather than around them, her tail stiff above her hindquarters. It was clear this one had traveled a long way, if she had known her mother. Tonravik wastes not a moment in insisting her dominance in her approach, and would soon invade the others space to get nearer to the scent she had known only as a child. 

Razorback was not left waiting long.

The beast of a she-wolf that emerged from the shadows looked as if she'd stepped right out of a nightmare. Caked in mud, with a rugged mane and bearish paws; Tonravik was, in some ways, even more fearsome than her mother. But she was not so easily shaken. Her head tilts just a fraction to the side as she sweeps her gaze over, and then away in deference. She would make no move to insult Tonravik's display.

"A message for you:" She begins, not yet giving her name as it was wholly less important than her task. "Siku has chosen Skull to lead with her. Aves no longer presides as Alpha but remains with us. Tartok thrives." She parrots off the words with a level tone. She has no investment in these developments, but they are important all the same.

One ear twists back then forward. She does not speak further.

Tonravik listens with ample interest as the other intones she has a message. The leader knew well what "Chosen" meant. It meant there had been a scuffle, and that the older Skull had bested the younger Crow when put to the test. It surprised her all the same, and even moreso that the wolf remained. Her own father was none of these men, but she had known Skull briefly; hardly long enough for him to have changed her any, but for enough of a time that he had left an impression and she would not soon forget him. His bone-white face and his lantern-yellow eyes against black made his name one that fit, perfectly.

And, Tartok thrives. Tonravik hums, pleased by all the news. It meant her mother likely had cubs again, but with another male; and Skull was a man in his prime by all means, so she was certain his station at her mother side might last. She is quiet for all of a minute after the missive was spoken, and the leader would not gainsay her. "You are Tartok," she intoned, her eyes surveying the strong, sure woman before her.

Chosen, indeed. The scuffle was not bloodless, but neither male came out of it permanently disabled. Razorback had doubts, however, that Siku would stop it before it went that far. Skull's move, from what little she was able to gather during her short time with the group, was not unexpected. The distribution of power had shifted again, and would again and again and again. Perhaps not now, or in years time, but it would. Such was the way with this Tartok.

The she-bear was silent as she mused over this new information and Razorback stood idly by, waiting to be dismissed. Until Tonravik addressed her directly, to which she nodded curtly. Tartok was in her blood; branded on her skin and in her bones until they turned to dust in the ages. 

This was something universally understood, so she did not fill the air with wasteful noise.

"Stay. Rest." Tonravik would not take no for an answer, and it was clear that this was a command, thoughtful though the words might seem. "There may be a battle soon. The wolves outside are dumb, but the land offers sustenance." The herds here, and the goats, made her grounds highly desirable. Perhaps the Plains wolves would want this land for themselves; she'd kill them before they got the chance.

Tonravik turned and gestured toward the land. She would bring the large wolf to some day old meat from the goat they had brought down the day prior. The Tartok wolf would be released when Tonravik figured out if the pack Kroc had thought she smelled would not march on their doorstep. Otherwise, she would fight alongside them.

The mention of food and rest fell on grateful ears, but all Razorback did was nod obediently. 

Her stomach churned. How long had it been since she'd last threw meat down to her gullet? The hungry beast was restless and agitated. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. At least four days; not stopping bought her time, and she was here days early. Siku would be pleased if word ever reached her woods. The svelte she-wolf breathed a soft sigh at the thought. She had done well, and needed no praise to confirm this.

She fell in line with Tonravik as the beast brought her to a kill the pack had felled not a day prior. How could any wolf be foolish and live, she thought. But she'd seen it with her own eyes. Some simply lacked common sense, or any at all; she'd killed many of them for crimes of stupidity, but none of their deaths were remarkable enough to be memorable. A waste. "I am ready." Is all she offers on the matter.

Razorback chuffed at the offering of meat and, when given permission, began to strip her fair share of the flesh from the carcass.

At the others mention of being ready, Tonravik nods. She would have to be. "I require all wolves to take on the role of Warrior and Guardian." She was sure Razorback was both, if she was Tartok; but she would need to prove it again here, in spars and in behaving as a warden in her days to come. Tonravik lead the other to the goat, and did not think to partake. She was not hungry, having eaten more than her fill during the hunt.

The leader shifts her weight and readies to leave. Razorback could join her, or could further get acquainted with the land. There was nothing more to say, having informed her of what she was required to do in her stay here, even if her stay was brief. Razorback would remain fed and safe in their place of rest, sheltered by the squat, but strong mountains.