He was back. He'd taken that well needed break and wandered the wilds until his feet were sore and his entire body ached. If anyone asked, he was going to say he was off wrestling bears under waterfalls. If anyone cares to ask, that was. He doubted any wolf around these parts really cared. A vast majority of them were stiff and uncaring about any kind of temporary vacation so long as you were here when it counted. Seemed easy enough. Plus, after a week in the wilds, he was back. Time to see what, if anything, had changed.
He slipped back into the boarders in the late afternoon. The sun was beginning its plunge over the horizon and Kero padded his way through a tangle of trees to head deeper into the lands. He passed the sacred bone pile and noticed an absence of a guard. Seizing the opportunity, he snagged an antler from the pile and took off with it, venturing elsewhere within the pack lands.
Kero decided then that if he was going to come back, he might as well go all in. He made his way towards the lake in the midst of the spine and paddled through the water until he reached the misty isle at its center. Crawling back on shore, antler still in his mouth, he shook out his pelt and made himself at home. He found a granite stone that was weather worn and perfect for testing upon. He hopped up there and settled in it, lowering himself to the rock to begin tearing in to his antler.
The insufferable scent suffocated even her, brought her to see red and to snap at all things in her path. The wolf more active than ever, even in the day, restless and unable to nap for too long. Things were changing, and she sought
@Syn to lord blows on her to release her frustrations upon the Omega. As it were, as of yet the wolf could not be found.
There was another red being who she noted chewing on an antler, and by the grace of whatever caused her to do as she did, she let him alone, her ears fanning forward; her hunger for some true food was more overwhelming than her desire to dominate and cow her subordinates at the given time. Her preestrus was a time where she reminded all of her place in a way that was basic, primal, and as old as time itself. None could be confused but perhaps she who had never experienced such things, but as with all of her instincts, she kept true to them.
He chewed. Picking up his antler, Kerosene contented himself by working up a good lather of saliva on it to soften the bone so he could really get to chewing. He gnawed, riddling away at the bone past the point of an aching jaw and tired tongue. But it was his bone and he'd continue at it until he was bored. He was just passing time; keeping a low profile. He had hours to kill.
Jaws parted, readjusting his angle on the bone when his mouth filled with the taste of copper. Blood. Female wolf's blood upon the air. Kerosene's ears immediately flattened as he tried to ignore it, but a combination of instinct and rage caused him to abandon his antler and chase after that scent. Paw over paw, he found himself at a full on run as he barreled through the towering pines of this island forest and aimed to connect with Toni's shoulder.
"Has no one taken care of you yet?" he hissed between gritted teeth as he rounded after the recoil. She was ripe, but not yet ready. He'd disappeared with hopes it'd fall upon her and he'd not deal with the fire of her season, but she held out. Waiting almost as if intentionally. He growled.
When she felt him against her she went ablaze, and his words fell upon deaf ears as an inner rage built up within her. A snarl ripped forth from her slavering jowls as her ears pitched forward and she lurched to snap at the air between them to keep the space. Too close. She had no desire to be near anyone, not this day; his absence and his return were both noted, but truth be told, Tonravik had simply presumed he had gone to collect more medicines when she was given time to cool. The leader trusted him as well as she could; there was no reason not to.
But, presently, she looked at him with a coldness in her that could burn, just as she burned within. It was a strange pain, but she longed for no release from it, not feeling wounded, not feeling anything but hot and hungry and irate. She was liquid nitrogen, unreceptive, volatile yet somehow reined in, but still she would burn and break the things that touched her.
The furs along her nape lifted and she seemed to grow in size as she watched him, red lines along her muzzle wrinkling but not tearing. It had healed, now. The bear of a woman shifts her weight, watching.
His head met a brick wall. A snarling, savage brick wall. He knew better. He was experienced enough to have some sort of clue as to what she was going through and taunting this wolf in her current condition would do him no good. Agitated. Enraged. Enflamed. She was in a vulnerable position that no-doubt left her on edge and he'd just rammed the sleeping dragon who'd otherwise have chosen to pass him by.
Kero snarled back. Fuck this. Her eyes gleamed with the fires within, but he was fire. He was already hot with his own set of rage born from places he didn't even wish to comprehend. "You taunt us," he hissed facing her now as he echoed her posture. Eyes met her own, his fur bristling as lines riddled across his own muzzle. "You pick no mate and would have us fight like dogs."
His words were met with vehemence, though she took a step back. "Like wolves." Dogs she knew nothing of. But wolves were not thoughtless, wolves followed instinct. If in the days to come, he wished to breed and there was another that wished the same, it was of their own volition in what choice to make. She was ice, the sort that had been forged in the arctic and had faced the heat of the sun before. And she remained hard in the breadth of his fire, impassive, cold, unrelenting.
Tonravik was not truly aware of what was happening to her, and she was not so introspective as to reflect. But she knew she wanted for nothing, yet, but for food and for the cool of night. In the following days, she would come to realize what he meant. There was a part of her that understood, that was able to give him something of a reply at all. But she was far more feral and brutish. The days to come and what occurred were not her choice to make; she was a wolf that could only abide by the law of the wild, and when the moment came, the strongest would find their way to her side, whether he was challenged or not. Tonravik herself only wanted to be let alone in her angry haze, but the brown bear kept close, and now, Iqniq lingered. It was then she noted in this damnable haze his posture, and her tail arched, taking one step forward again.
Like wolves. Fine. Some days there was no difference between species save lineage, size, and submission to creatures other than their own kind. He knew what she was getting at and there was still a part of him that cared less for it. Her instinct; her black and white world was a nuisance for those who lived within the gray. She burned with frozen, tepid winds. He blazed with heat and wild fire.
Her body language shifted. She bristled, but built upon that, lifting her tail behind her like a banner to warn him off his foolishness. Kerosene caught it. Noticed how she stepped forward to assert her dominance like the queen she was. Of other things. But not of this. Not of this volatile state she was in whether she realized it or not. In this, she seemed rather naive. That, or instinct would open the doors to possibilities he'd rather not see.
He stepped forward, lifting his tail behind him in his refusal of this childishness. "Pick someone from the spine and end this." Put them all out of their misery.
Her world truly was black and white. What was any shade in between but inconvenient? There were thousands of colors on the scale, but the ones that mattered to her were the ones at its beginning and at its end: pitch black and stark white. They were simple. Easy. And anything in between complicated things unnecessarily to the woman, who was raised to be as simple as this, by creatures just as base as she. At her first year, she had been chased off by her mother, who would have no competition by the only wolf who stood a real change against her: the youth she raised. She would have more cubs, and Tonravik had been a threat... and instinctively, she understood why she was chased, but did not have the cognitive power to recognize this scent as familiar to the one that had come when her mother chased her from the lands she was born on the third day when she had come too close. Her mother had put many in their place and curbed others from heat, snapping and stressing the pack out...
She remembered Razorback. More cubs this year by her mother. Which meant her siblings were likely out there, her brothers seeking to make their own name for themselves and perhaps a sister, too (unaware that she would be the only daughter of her mother).
His words brought her another step closer, poised to attack, and oh, she would, if he did not stand down. She was not for words, but she needed him to understand this simple thing: "I do not pick." Not within the first year; it was true, wolves mated for life unless something befell the other and sometimes, other underlying circumstances. But this was no choice of hers, but their own; perhaps she could respond, in her receptiveness, to one, but even still, it mattered not if he was not the strongest. They could be challenged. Best to kill the bird with one throw of the stone when the time came. This, to her, was not childish. This was life. Tonravik would couple with the strongest male, and if there was only one that chose her, so be it.
To Tonravik, things were black and white. Always. The survival of her young, and that they be strong, themselves, was, to the alpha, the most important; it was their future. Tonravik now moved toward him to reach out and (attempt to) grab his muzzle; her own scent frustrated her, as surely as it frustrated him, but the action would ground her, stabilize her aggression lest she suddenly desire an all out brawl.
Another step closer. He was treading dangerous waters here. He knew it. He knew it and yet he lingered, making no movement, nor indication of her advance as he watched her once more assert herself to reclaim the situation. Kero stared back, his gaze lifting to catch her own. Defiant where all these times before he'd played the passive role.
There was a part of him that wished to provoke her further. To test her strength against his own. He'd seen her battle once before. He'd watched her dance of daggers and found challenge within her that taunted and teased all within him that was not truly submissive. He humbled himself within reason; within measure he understood and found plausible cause to agree with. But in this?
Her words cracked across the air. She did not pick. No. She'd leave it to the power-hungry meatheads to throw their weight around and determine the outcome for her. She did not pick. No. She left their fate to chance and circumstance. She did not pick. "Of course. It's far easier to let others decide for you. Leaves your paws clean."
She lunged, reaching out to snag his nose. Kero jerked his head aside, escaping her teeth as he turned back with a snarl. He made no move to snap at her, but he was not about to submit to something he could not agree with. He would not roll over and humiliate himself for something he considered a mistake.
He turned to leave.
If Tonravik could read minds, if she had a sense of humor, she would be amused; as it was, she could not, and could not understand his meaning, could not understand anything he said. He was a wolf who was not so black and white. A wolf who thought easy was any part of it. To Tonravik, a dimwitted creature of instinct, Iqniq himself became simple. They could not understand one another in this. Perhaps they never would.
It was when he looked her in the eye that she sprang into action, before more words could be spoken and he could speak of things being "easy" to a woman who didn't know the meaning of the word. It was not easy. It was the way. It was natural. If he wanted cubs, he would challenge whoever might come to claim her, or he would claim her and be challenged. Choice took no part in that. Only strength. That was how leadership worked; strength.
So the leader dipped her crown and moved to throw her weight into him with her face pulled into a quiet snarl, fangs looking to grip (but not break) the skin near the apex of his shoulder and his weight and to force him down. His insubordination, and anyone's insubordination ever, would not be tolerated, regardless of reason. In dominance, there was no right and wrong. There was insubordination and subordinate behavior. There was no "reason" in it; it was hierarchy. The way of the wild. Inherent instinct he himself felt flaring within, and truth be told, that she did not wish to quell, but to draw out. These were strange thoughts that came to her, but she was unreceptive and still aggressive; this, after all, was the time where most definitively, the lead female let her place as lead be known.
If the man behaved himself, perhaps he might eventually earn himself some affection. But she was pissed, by his nearness, by his behavior, by his audacity to look her in the eye when she had wanted to be left alone to begin with, he had come for her and it was then, with all of her weight, she came back.
He took no more than a couple of paces before he felt her behind him. Like a looming shadow of a presence that caused something within him to sink. He ignored that something, pressing onward only to feel the weight of her teeth bite within his scruff and transform his forward movement into a backward movement. Unbalanced from his gait, she snagged him and successfully pulled him downwards.
Kero snarled. Sprawled upon the ground, he moved quickly, rolling to his stomach and gathering his paws beneath him so that he might stand once more. His hackles coiled, shoulders tensing as he shifted his tail and posture to defend himself from whatever blow she might have him suffer next.
"What?" He snapped, ears flat against his crown as his muzzle riddled itself with ridges. Fangs flashed. His eyes sought hers out once more. He'd not be taken down so easily again.
Her paws had been dirtied her whole life, by things far worse than this. As he rose, her aggression was curbed, his flattened lobes abating further action in the moment. His question was met with solemn words, "This is our way." There was no choice in that matter. None. If she were to choose independently, surely it would be challenged if it were not agreed upon which it very well could be. It was law. Law of pack. Law of Tartok, who was run by instinct itself. Life was not so simple to a loveless woman, who could not know for certain which male was the strongest here without testing it. "I will have the strongest by my side at the end of this," she rumbles, "And with that end will come cubs that will grow as strong." Family. Their family. Win or lose, it would still be his family if he remained, and it would be well understood their place, and all tension would be resolved.
Her next reaction again had nothing to do with their disagreeing, which was bound to happen anywhere, but for his insubordination in general, which under any circumstance--no matter the grievance--she could not tolerate. She stares back, her eyes not averting, teeth gnashed together as a snarl breaks loose from her, muzzle wrinkled and eyes as sharp as any cleave that broke diamonds apart. There would be a time, if he so decided, for him to dominate her if that was what he so desired—today would not be that day.
Our way. That's right. He was an outsider here merely glimpsing in at a world he didn't understand. He'd picked up on things sure. Aggression first. Questions later. Or never at all. Most likely never. Yes or no questions. If body language couldn't communicate it, whatever you wanted to say was too complex. And she was the queen of all of it. A woman of barbaric instinct.
His eyes narrowed as she continued, elaborating on her desires. He'd asked her a number of times what she wanted. What she needed. He'd become most of that; shifted his wanderlust to fall beneath her expectations for her rule.
Save for this one thing; this one way of life and decision he felt out-dated and far too simple for instinct alone. The way she spoke of strength seemed narrow and too focused. She threw her weight around far too easily, resorting to brute strength when he knew very well there were far many more kinds than that which she described. She had all the physical strength wrapped in that behemoth of a body that any one wolf would ever need. There were days where he wondered if she knew any other kind.
"There's more to it than brawn alone." That was the beginning and the end of it. She was a powerhouse. As she currently stood, any wolf within her midsts was a submissive to her sheer size and the promise of her snarls. He'd watched them all bow too easily. None measured to who and what she was. None would rise to a position truly equal to that of which she held. Pretty to think that. Bully to those who wished to try and would ultimately fail.
His gaze held her own. His golden stare was met with sanguine brown; alight with passion and promise born from a place he would never truly know. He was not quite finished here, but he knew a wall when he saw one. There would be no persuasion here. No changing of her mind or methods. She had decided and, with that realization, a sinking dread swelled within him.
He diverted his gaze, letting it sweep aside before he turned it back in her direction. "Watch your spawn be stronger than shit and dumber than dirt." A lazy grin fell upon his lips. A wag to his tail.
In this, her conviction was unmatched. He was right to think she would not change her mind. Not for anything. She was a beast of the wilderness, her mind as gnarled and as dangerous as the wilds from whence she came. A tense moment, not even a knife could cut through the thickness of this; only their bodies, she imagined, might be able to beat this tension down, or something very simple. And as his eyes averted, her anger and her unease was gone.
His gaze swept back, and the leader offered a shift of her ears. "You call yourself dumb, Iqniq," she snorted, implying he might challenge, and he might win, and that his cubs, if his thoughts were true, would be as dumb as shit and carried strength alone. Brute strength like her own did not always mean dimwitted; surely he was strong and not dumb, and surely any other was strong and not dumb... and she looks to him, and for a very brief moment offered a look that might be pretty were it not for how unassuming her features would be were it not for her mass, as she said, "I am smart." It mattered not. She won the genetic lottery, she believed. I'll bring the brains to any cubs I bear. And with that, her own tail waved as she moved to nip roughly at him (but again, not to break skin), not sure if her teeth gained any contact as she shifted to sweep away. Her aggression was all but gone; she hoped to find a fox or a coyote and kill it, to bring her irateness to an end for the time and eat in one fell swoop.
Just like that, the tension was gone. Their argument, disagreement, whatever anyone wished to call it was over. Evaporated. His unease remained, but he concealed it well, hiding that part of him beneath good humor and a shift in personality that settled upon him as easily as any other.
"I've not called myself anything." Truth. She'd named him. She'd given him goals and trades to work towards. He'd simply become. He'd fallen into whatever mold another wished to make of him and had displayed little of his true self. Little. He hadn't the slightest idea who he was anymore, though he suspected she'd trampled upon something of it earlier.
She spoke again. Three little words that left him looking at her like she was absolutely insane despite that face she cast at him. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," he replied, having a feeling she wouldn't quite understand what he meant by that, but if he was going to learn about her subtleties, she could return the favor and learn about his.
Her tail wove as she moved to nip him. Kerosene glanced at her for a moment, pleased that she too seemed to have moved on from the nature of their earlier conversation. His ears flitted towards her as she shied away and he turned, lowering his head to brush against her shoulder. "There are deer on this island," he reminded her, referring back to their earlier exploration of this place. "Keep your ass down wind and we might could snag one."
As she thought back on his words, she realized he was right, he hadn't. Not about to admit it verbally, she shrugged. She had misheard him. And too literal to understand this subtlety at least, she looks at him in a befuddled manner. "I do not need help." She slept well, after all. Lightly, to be sure, but well. As Iqniq spoke of food, her dark eyes seemed to lighten. Tonravik licked her chops.
The woman hungered, after all, and it was a deep hunger. Tonravik sniffed the wind and there was nothing near, but then... there were tracks to her left. The leader went to trace them. A hunt would do perfect, and her ears swiveled as she indirectly spoke her intent to hunt one. Looking to him, the woman licks her chops before setting off on this hunt, and then went on her way. He had implied in the "we" that he would join her, after all.
"Of course not." She could sleep just fine on her own. Why he felt the need to get the last word was beyond him, but he nabbed it anyway and contented himself with that.
They soon settled into that all too easy canter that came with the onset of a hunt. He was slowly readjusting to working with others in this matter. Solitary hunting was something he'd spent most of his time on as of late, but it was a frequent thing within the Spine. Enough so that he often felt spoiled by their ability to take down larger game.
Tonravik tracked, happening upon a set of hoof prints that lead elsewhere. They seemed fresh. Easy to follow. So long as she remembered to keep her bloody behind down-wind they might be able to make the best of their scenario.
They wove, following the hoof prints and scents until the happened upon the herd they'd seen before. Another resting ground. These deer seemed like a lazy and idle lot.
His head tipped indicating a smaller doe sipping from the lake.
It was quite easy to get the last word with the leader, given words were something she preferred to do without. So his final words on the matter were merely met with a nod. Yes, of course not. It had been why she had said it. Her dark eyes did not remain on him for long after that. They had another matter to get to. Food. And they did.
Following the marks left behind by the herd, the duo found the critters soon enough. Still here, and strong in their number, and as oblivious as the day they had first been discovered. She saw him tip his head in her peripheral vision, and her head looked to what he had seen.
A drinking doe. Tonravik shifted her weight. It was agreed upon with a stiff, quick nod.
Eye locked onto a target. Tonravik was in agreement on this one. The doe by the lake. She was already withdrawn and isolated. It was just a matter now of how exactly they'd go about handling it. Push her further into the water and they'd be trying to swim and wrangle it. Startle it out and the doe would increase her chances of joining back up with the rest of the herd.
He lingered for a while, analyzing the situation until Toni shifted aside him. With her scent upon the air? A water approach might be better... He dismissed the thoughts. The doe would decide for herself. He could not chose for it, but he could adapt to whatever direction she fled.
Kerosene rose a bit and coiled, readying himself to press forward.
The leader was still for a moment, looking from herd to lone doe. There was nothing in the opening of land to give them cover once they revealed themselves. Best course of action? To go for it. Tonravik bolted forward, toward the doe in the lake, who belatedly realized that something was amiss even as the herd moved in a chaotic mob, abandoning their doe to its fate.
The doe itself stared emptily, then drove forward--deeper--into the water. By then, Tonravik was close enough to snap at its hind, which lashed out and narrowly nicked her shoulder slightly as she withdrew. The wound was nothing, and so she threw her weight in the direction the animal went again, this time heading toward its side before moving to harass it.
It separated itself easily. The herd dispersed, pressing through the trees as the doe plunged into the lake. Damn. Deer were strong swimmers, but so were wolves. And with their weight? They might be able to push it deeper and drown it if they were lucky enough to avoid the hooves. But with this one? No antlers. Perfect.
He moved, splashing into and through the water as Tonravik nipped at its flank. The doe fought back, turning its attention away from him. That opening let him move forward, coming in on its blind-side to snap at it's front shoulder. His teeth hit and clung for a moment, before the deer thrashed and lifted a hind hoof to shake him off. He was clipped just above the ear and with a head wound he was momentarily rattled.
Kero backed off, shaking his head clear before pressing in once more.
Tonravik paused only for a moment. When she was sure Iqniq was not truly wounded, she went for the animal again. It moved into deeper water and Tonravik did not move in until it began to swim. When it did so, she wasted no time. Her own strong limbs brought her to its side and she went for its muzzle. It turned its face away, and Tonravik continued to paddle, pushing her weight into it to steer it into a turn.
Iqniq would likely be able to catch up to them, then. It let out a bleat but its herd had long since run off on the safety of land. Safer than the water, at this point. She and the flame were two sharks, biding their time for the proper strike.
Back in shallow waters and on all fours, Kero waited for his head to clear. It took only seconds, but seemed like a century as his vision sorted itself. Ready for action once more, Kero surveyed the scene. The deer was in the water now, swimming. Good. That meant its hooves were occupied.
Tonravik went for its nose and used that to steer the deer within the water. Kero paddled out after them, splashing through the water as he propelled himself forward and exerted himself to meet them. With the deer's head in a vice and therefore distracted, Kero climbed upon its back and sunk his teeth alone its neck. It'd have to paddle harder to keep them both afloat and if Ton could hold its nose beneath the water, they could drown it quickly.
Somehow, Iqniq made his way upon the animals back as he came to them. Tonravik knew the thing was distracted enough to make for its muzzle again. And so she did, this time succeeding. With its muzzle under the water, it was only a matter of time before it suffocated, or drowned. Whatever happened first. It died, stilling in the water entirely, and she released. Tonravik moved to take it back to the Spine. Better not take it to the Island. It'd be a long swim, but the struggle with the prey had not been too arduous that the task she set before them be impossible.
She paddled, dragging the animal with her coupled with the weight of Iqniq. When he removed himself the weight would become lighter, and when he aided her, they would arrive all the faster.
Beneath his weight and Tonravik's quickness to catch on, the deer perished in its watery grave. Kerosene removed himself from the animal now, wading within the water to snatch its tail between his teeth and help Toni pull the beast back to shore. They paddled silently, as they swam, content to focus on the task at hand. After a while, the reached the main lands and pulled the deer up on the sands.
Kero released the deer and stepped back, looking to her for further instruction. Dine now? Or call the pack and let them all feast? This hunt had been for her. She could decide.