Wolf RPG

For a quiet week, Tonravik did her duty. But she kept well away from everyone, and anyone that neared her was met with abuse only Omega's knew, forced to submit regardless of their relation to her, to show her their belly, to tuck their tail. It was fair that they steer clear of her in that time, met with teeth and irritation and unpredictable behavior... and surely the pack could sense why, surely they understood.

And if they did not, on this day when things came to full bloom, they surely would. There was an unfamiliar sort of longing in her, niggling. She read nothing into it. It was new, unfamiliar, and it was unrelenting. She rubbed against the trees and her eyes fervently hunted for a body, now, without knowing. The wolf prowled her lands, near to the borders in her patrol, knowing she might very well draw a stranger to them, but knowing that in these times any man could take their claim if she was accepting and if it was disputed by none. And, if it was disputed, then whoever won that very dispute would find themselves beside her, as her mate, and as their leader.

He had not left her. He stole through in the brush and kept downwind, out of sight and out of mind. He ate little, slept even less, and did nothing more than follow from a distance. If she had ever been aware that he shadowed her, she did not show it.

His eyes were hot and focused. His lips drawn straight as his jaw clenched. His muscles were taught on his powerful frame. The time was now, and he made his appearance known. He broke from his cover and moved in with purpose. He did not carry himself as he normally would have, with his body lowered and mannerisms showing deference. No, his head was high and he had drawn himself to his full height. He was here to claim, and strode confidently to her. His ears were twisting, to catch any sounds of any other challengers, but his eyes were burning on her.

She'd not deviated from instinct. No. If anything she'd fallen into it and embraced the old traditions of the past that'd long since been erased by the whimsy of love and longing and wanting to find that happily ever after. There was none of that within the Spine. There were hardly words. Only nips and nudges and primal body language used to convey praise or scolding for a job well or poorly performed. Here and now? She taunted once more, slipping from that stage of warning and beckoning to ripe and ready for the taking.

He didn't like it. He didn't care to leave his future in the hands of fate on the off chance that strength alone would be enough to rule by. Tonravik was certain this would be enough. He did not share the same opinion, nor did he look out amongst his pack mates and see a male to which he would willingly bow. They all submitted to her too eagerly and most times, to him as well whether they realized it or not.

The wolf who strutted before her now was a pup barely grown into his own ears. Kero'd seen him stalking her. It was blatantly obvious as to his intentions, but he lacked the drive to hold any real respect should he fall into the position he unknowingly sought. Kero's eyes narrowed as he lingered and waited to see if any other outside contenders would venture into the fold and save them from this disgrace. From this need their alpha had taken to wandering the borders for outside contenders for none within her own fold would rise.

There were none. There would be none.

Unless some other soul loomed within the shadows, their fate would fall into the hands of a mere babe who could not think without another's thought to guide him. Idiot.

Curse it all.

He hated himself.

He rose anyway, for the first time within this pack asserting himself with the rank he held as Delta as he moved within the fold and intervened, moving to place himself between the wolf-pup and their alpha. His tail lifted. His head held high and defiant with his piercing golden stare as he bore down upon the chocolate wolf. His stance was wide. His posture aflame with dominance he'd never felt the need to assert before. "Leave us," he hissed. The words dark and low as they rolled beneath the gravel of a growl building within the depths his chest. Kero snapped. Teeth clipping the air as he followed his words with physical promise.

The runaway had come back. The brown bear snorted. His ears flicked forward. His tail rose behind him, hackles raised. This was not a male fit to lead beside Tonravik, one who would flee in an effort to avoid the most important trial for a Tartok male, the most pivotal moment for the future of the pack. He was a coward, an arrogant fool who believed he had many more seasons of experience and wisdom than he actually had. He was lower than the shit Kodiak had left beside a tree mere hours earlier. The brown bear had respected him once; not now.

Before the red male could finish the word leave Kodiak lunged. With the full force of his powerful form behind him, and wild fire in his eyes, his teeth sought the flesh on his opponent's face. He would rend what he could in the next few moments; there was nothing behind held back on this day.

The two males came to her. Kodiak approached with dominance in his stride, and Tonravik herself reared her head upward but moved toward him, more tigress than bear for what was sure to be the last time. But another came, intercepted, and Tonravik turned to him, a snarl on her face. She wanted. She simply wanted. But she observed, in the distance, her eyes upon the two strong, sure men. One was a warrior, who had spent much of his life learning to fight. One skilled, who clearly had experience himself. Both, to be sure, distracted. Perhaps one more than the other; for Iqniq had experience here before, whereas neither she nor the brown bear had much in these areas. 

So she watched, albeit impatiently, until the very end. And when it ended, Tonravik looked to the victor, and the cold woman's blood ran hot.

She approached him in her confident swagger and did not heed the presently wilted Kodiak; instead she exposed herself to Iqniq, as much of a smoldering flame as what she had named him for.

They fought. Each with talents and strengths of their own as Kodiak proved himself to be a worthy opponent. Just as in their previous spar Kero had suspected his brown wolf to have held back, he fought with greater passion than before and landed a few blows upon Kero's hide that were sure to leave a mark.

His muzzle bled, its flow lost beneath the ripples of his snarls as he snapped and dodged and parried each blow to the best of his ability. His own future was on the line here and with it the fate of this pack. He was determined not to lose to a pup. Not in this. And if no other would stand to protest this, he would fight to claim his own fate.

A final cuff and it was finished. Chest heaving, Kerosene snarled at the younger wolf and warned him off again. "Leave us." An order. He'd won this round and he was not about to leave room for protest. Tonravik'd said she wanted the strongest. Fine. She could have it.

She presented herself to him. With a final snarl towards the brown wolf, he claimed his prize and mounted a queen.

In the end, both were beaten and bloody, but the brown bear had taken a few harder blows. He was commanded to leave but he did not; the red male was no alpha yet, and never would be in the eyes of the Tartok wolf. He sucked on his tongue and spat a glob of saliva and blood at the other male. He remained where he was when their spar had concluded; Iqniq was too distracted to do anything about it - Tonravik had been quick to present herself and he just as quick to take it. He watched, and waited, collecting his breath.

And so it was to be. Iqniq had won; but her heat would last more days than this.

In the moment, the flame took the mountain, and together they burned. The brown bear did not move, and in the coming days, loitered closely.

It took two days for him to challenge again, for him to make the same demand. This time, he won, and it all went much the same. She was had by two men, as it would be in the law of the wild, but Iqniq came again with a vengeance. And for the last time, Kodiak was chased from the land when the battle was won, to not return. Tonravik wondered if he would come to fight again; but the battles in this match were more severe, surely, and in the end, the wolf did not return. There was no doubting either of their prowess.

At the end of it, there was the male that had once spoken of his disinterest in this that in the process had become primal, base, instinctual, Tartok. His future would come of it. And his future was certainly here. There were more days to come, but she had become his, and he, hers.

His victory was short lived. Kodiak returned with a vengeance and bested him at their game. Warrior to warrior, this time it was Kerosene who was outmatched.

He withdrew for the moment, tending his own wounds with tricks he'd picked up during his travels as he eased the aches and pains and numbed himself for a final round. Kero returned with a vengeance, ignoring the warnings of his body as he pushed himself and claimed victory once more.

This time, he would not let the other linger.  

His future was his to decide.

He turned back to Tonravik.

What a bitch.

It was not to be. With the final round over the brown bear turned without hesitance and left of his own accord with not so much as a look back. He had been raised to respect a king but he would not submit to the court jester. He did not slump in his posture nor hold his head low. There were more opportunities out there for a young bronco coming into his prime, and he immediately re-focused on them as he departed the spine.