Leaving his natal pack hadn't been a hard thing for the bastard to do, even though he had proved his worth over and over again, the Romans would never truly see him as one of their own. He would always be an outsider to the Legion, never a trusted member. And Leviticus hated it, he had done many deeds of valor, but he was never given a real family name for proving himself, no, he had to bear the surname of bastards, like his siblings.
But while they were content with serving the pack that would never accept them, the black bastard would not. So, one day, he said a few goodbyes to those he cared and left, never looking back to the place where he was born, raised, shunned and scorned. It was time for a new beginning, where his status as a bastard would not count, his skills would.
Leathery nostrils flared as the strong stench of a pack approached, making sure to stay a respectable distance away from the borders, he prowled along like a panther, blue eyes watching the packlands carefully. If this was a strong pack, he would not need to howl, they would come to him. If this was a weak one....he would be on his way soon.
He was out and about, prowling the borders to not only leave his claim, but ensure no foul play had come across their territory. He was not taking chances. He would not let any wolf so much as slip a toe over that which they claimed as their own. "When cubs do come along, those not of the Spine will know not one single inch of my land." He remembered what she'd said what felt like so long ago. And now there were cubs. Or would be. These cubs? They were his own. This land? Now also his. There was no room for games or chances. Only penalty of death.
He'd skirted the natural boundaries of the spine, but that range was no longer good enough. He pressed wider, circling the territory and expanding their range to leave fair and clear warning of where they resided and where those not of their lands would not be permitted. To intrude was to risk death. To linger was to tempt fate. There was no margin for error and he would have none of it.
Nor would he permit another male to loiter so close. He caught wind of the wolf and lingered, watching as he slowly counted to ten in his mind. Ten seconds to turn around. Ten second to leave. Ten seconds to show some kind of respect for the lands this wolf stepped far too near.
Forget it. Kerosene stepped out of hiding with a sprint, his fur bristling as he approached this wolf with a snarl and a clashing of teeth. "Get out," he growled, asserting himself in this place.
Tonravik herself charged down the mountainside upon the scent of someone foreign meeting her nostrils. Iqniq was already there, and Tonravik drew to his side looking at the male before her with no interest--yet. To her, he was not yet a potential joiner but a male debating on trespassing. Disobeying was an option only to those who had a death wish.
When she drew next to the flame, the bear looked to him stonily. He would not be the first she killed. He would not be the last. Tonravik moved slowly and deliberately, ready to assist in the end of this male should he not submit to their whim (him leaving) or their might. There was, of course, the chance of him remaining in all of this. If he submitted to the duo, spoke with intention, they might listen; he was not so close enough for Tonravik's first thought to be of ending him. That would come only if he did not listen, or did not bend to them.
Not need to howl, indeed. From the wolf in the forest to this one near the borders, Kroc was ever vigilant. She did not allow for a wolf to linger now, she never had. This one would be no different. With the direction of the wind, she scented her Alphas, both new and original, and knew that she would not be alone meeting this one. That was fine. Though, she had no blood ties within this pack, her dedication was whole. She would stand strong at the side of any and all of them in the face of outsiders.
She arrived just as they did, albeit from third direction, gold eyes all for the one that was too close. A snarl rolled from her throat, low and warning. The Alphas would lead this, of course, but she was still the Warden and threatened his demise should he make a wrong move.
The Roman did not need to wait long, he turned around sharply as a large golden brown pack wolf came charging towards him, fur bristling and teeth clashing, growling at him to get out. Quickly following was another large one, a female this time, with black fur and dark eyes, this one did not speak but by her movements, he knew her intentions were not friendly. This was a strong pack indeed, one similar to his natal one, and all the packs of Rome. This was a good pack to pledge himself to, that is, if they would have him.
The moment the dark furred female arrived, Levi rapidly lowered his form in submission, his tail hanging between his hind legs. His ears drawn back against his skull, not aggressively but submissively, and his blue eyes focused on the ground. The dark bastard noted the presence of another, by the snarl and the new scent that touched his nostrils, this pack was well guarded indeed.
Deciding not to delay any longer, he spoke. "I come for a home," the Roman stated.
It did not take long for his mate to join them and soon after that, the white bear herself. It seemed they were all on high alert and listening, watching, waiting for someone to tempt their fate and test the boundaries they'd drawn. The lines in their sands were not meant for crossing. And this wolf? The dark male did not seem to take his threats seriously. Not, at least, until Tonravik entered the scene and doubled up his threat. Only then did the wolf bow. Kero noted this. He would remember.
Kerosene's hackles faded, but only slightly. The submission had earned this wolf that much, but good behavior when outmatched was not the least bit impressive. Responsible. Smart, perhaps. Definitely necessary. But slow. Golden eyes traced over the dark wolf as it spoke. A home? "Why." Not so much a question as a demand. It seemed he sought the Spine, yet he'd loitered as if unsure. There was no room for second guessing. Not when he'd chosen to tempt fate and make his welcome here a game. Kero was not inclined to play.
Tonravik watched as the other submitted. Unlike the flame beside her, she did not note the timing; she was not so observant to think that it was only she he submitted to. It gave her pause, and an ear shifted to acknowledge her pale comrades arrival and presence both.
Her mate spoke, echoing her thoughts. She stood beside him, ear-to-ear, her dark eyes staying upon the Romans frame. Why? And what could he bring to make the Spine stronger?
Save for her growls, Kroc did nothing to make herself known, made no move to garner attention. She didn't need it. What was important here was how this wolf behaved, especially if he was asking for a home. She did not look away or change her focus even for a moment. If they rejected him, she would chase him out the moment they said "no", so the tank was keeping her eyes on her target.
Truth to be told, Levi had taken the golden male's threat seriously, it was just the fact that in the lands of Rome, when a challenge like that was issued and the loner wished to join. You had to show your strength, fight back and earn yourself a place in the Legion. He had been contemplating whether or not these lands had similar customs and therefore did not submit immediately when the russet male came. When the dark female arrived though, the Roman decided that perhaps it was better to submit and state his intentions peacefully, though Levi actually wasn't one for simply....talking peacefully.
A simple word was uttered in response to his statement, from that, the Roman calculated that this bunch was no talkative pack, they were strong and kept probably to the old ways of the wolves, of simply posturing and asserting their dominance. It was just a guess, but if it was true, he would have no problem with it. His natal pack had been similar after all.
"I seek a new start, a new beginning, you are strong," he answered. "I am loyal," Levi stated, getting directly to the point. "You will find a Warrior, Protector and Tracker in me, I will fight with you, defend with you until death." It was true, and unless he felt that he was no longer needed, he would stay until the god of death came to claim his soul.
Just one word and this wolf understood. He spoke, keeping his words somewhat clipped as he made a general assessment and followed with a few personality traits that would prove themselves with time. One could say they were loyal, but there was no truth in the words until that loyalty was shown. A warrior? Fine. He seemed fit enough. A protector? Those two often went hand in hand. A tracker? That was new, but the wolf seemed to abandon it in favor of the first two as he spoke of fighting and defending until the death. Interesting.
Kerosene shifted, rocking slightly on his paws as Tonravik hovered near. His ears flicked as he contemplated what to do with this one. He decided. "Track then," he spoke, tipping his nose towards the world beyond. "Lead us in a hunt." The dark wolf spoke of loyalty and hinted at camaraderie. This would prove both.
Tonravik listened with interest. The first two were required to join the Spine. Wolves must become a Warden, and a Warrior. If they did not like it, they need not be a part of them. As Iqniq thought of the wolves first trial, Tonravik waited until he was finished. Then, she gestured outside of the borders. "The forest." He would not hunt in their land, learn it in any capacity, until he was a part of them.
Her eyes turn toward the pale wolf. "Owatsiaro," came the Inuktitut word. Wait, it meant. In other words, stay here. Remain on guard. Not here. Just remain and patrol. Her attention turned back to the lone wolf who desired to join them. His test would begin when he moved in the direction she had gestured.
The trial was decided and her command given to her by Tonravik. She nodded and moved to carry out her instruction, understanding it for what it was. She would return to her post and continue to protect the Spine as she always did. Before departing, she nudged them both at their flanks, a common gesture from her though it was brief and without linger. They were both her leaders now and they both would receive the same respect from her. She moved on without another moment's delay, resuming her patrol once more.
Kroc exits!
A simple command was issued then, and the Roman was told to lead the pack wolves on a hunt. He would've preferred a spar right there and now, but well, a hunt was fine too he supposed. Straightening himself, though his posture remained deferential to the wolves of the Spine, Levi's blue gaze followed and swiftly, without words escaping his maw, he turned towards the direction of the forest and began moving, silently.
Black leathery nostrils flared as Levi entered the forest, and it wasn't long before his nose caught the scent of deer. Silently, the Roman began following the scent trail, pausing for a moment to sniff some scat or urine that the herd had left behind. The smoky creature was used to hunting on the plains, on open ground, but he could get used to these woods.
Making sure he was downwind of the herd, he found them grazing in the clearing peacefully, not knowing that there were predators nearby. Sniffing the air once more, he noticed that the prey at the edge of the clearing was elderly and rather sickly, that would be the one they targeted, and it would be easier too, seeing that the deer was some distance away from the rest of the herd. Stupid.
Levi crept out and leaped, his jaws sinking into the flesh of eldery deer, he tasted blood in his jaws as he fell on his paws once more. The rest of the herd was fleeing, and this one yearned to follow but the Roman would not let it go. He would pass the test.
There were reasons for a hunt. This wolf spoke of loyalty; of fighting with them and defending with them. He'd suggested he was a team player, capable and willing to do all that it took to be a member of this pack. A hunt would prove that. It was a team activity, one that required a certain level of trust and understanding between comrades. They would see.
Kroc was dismissed to continue her patrol. This new wolf turned then, moving towards the forest without another word to prove what he said was true. Kero followed, letting this lone wolf lead as he held a respectable distance and gave the wolf room to track. He watched, lingering in Tonravik's presence as he observed this new wolf and noted his ways.
It didn't take long for the dark wolf to find a herd. Kerosene lingered, taking up a supporting position near the wolf's flank as he waited for the wolf to signal or make any sort of indication to point out the deer he'd selected for this hunt. He did none of it and instead leapt forward and pursued this creature as if he'd been acting alone.
"He did not lead," he murmured, letting the words fall upon the ears of his mate as he too moved forward to help this lone wolf in his endeavor.
Tonravik observed what her mate did. She stalked with the others, but the stranger took it upon himself to strike without them. Without pack. Her head tilted as she contemplated Iqniqs words. "He can learn," she suggested, her eyes going to her mate. She gave him time to think, to decide. Tonravik desired abled bodies. He was one. And if he did not learn? Well, she was quite sure he would; their environment left little room not to. So while he attacked the prey, Tonravik barks sharply, summoning him back to them.
The stranger had not made a team effort of this. She was not sure why, but then, she did not care to learn, either, because she thought she knew. For the time, that thought was enough to tide her over. It was what he knew, as a lone wolf. It had taken Iqniq some time to adapt, but adapt he did. If the stranger removed himself and obeyed her (and so, by default, their) summons, he might have a chance yet. They would think of another task.
He did not indeed. Truth was, he did not have much experience hunting with others. He had fought with the Legion but that was only because all the soldiers of the pack were needed to fight. It was a nescessary skill to know how to fight with the pack, for it was the way of Rome. Hunting on the other hand did not, apparently, require him or his sister to help. He was usually excluded from such group hunts, probably because of his status as a bastard, so Levi learnt to hunt alone, although at times he would observe. The Roman's time as a loner did not help either. But if the Spine wished for teamwork on hunts, he would learn, he would adapt.
The roman was close to finishing off the deer now but the sharp bark the bear of a wolf uttered made him falter, it was good food wasted but Levi had been raised to obey orders and so he did so now. Without hesitation, the Roman drew back and faced the two Spine leaders. His posture deferential to the two wolves, he awaited for the next commands.
A bark from Tonravik called this hunt off. Kero moved, effectively running off the injured deer when the dark wolf released it. The elder deer limped. Whatever damage this wolf had done was proof enough of his strength. If he had the discipline to learn how to work as a team, he'd make an efficient hunter.
They returned as a group. Kero looked to Tonravik, wondering if she had anything she wished to see of this wolf before they made their decision. In the meantime, he filled the space with a question. "What is your name?" The answer was of little importance. Tonravik would likely rename him with time, but for now it would be nice to think of him as something.
Her mate asks a question. Tonravik is thoughtful as she looks to the other. Eyes as blue as the sea she had seen much of as a cub. His bearing was large, although he was sleek and looked good for running. That he had any resemblance at all to the water caused her to think of strong sea creatures, whales. "Arverk," she names him, answering Iqniq. The name meant whale, but a whale of his coloration. Black. Her fellow alpha was right in his thoughts. Whoever he was outside of this place, it did not matter. It would never matter, even if persons of his past came to haunt him. They would find their grave, here, and there were no such thing as ghosts.
The leader surveys him. "To run with us, we require you to train to become a warrior, and to become a guardian of this pack." Whatever other role he wished to obtain was up to him, but these two were necessary. "We are pack. You will learn to hunt with us. That was foolish," she gestured to where the animal he had attacked once was that, for now, had escaped with its life. It was fortunate the male before her did not suffer any blows to his head; deer were testy and quick, regardless of gender, regardless of age, they could slam one cloven hoof into your head and that would be the end of it. "And we do not tolerate fools." She exhaled heavily, looking at the male long and hard. The woman did not think he was a fool. Simply out of practice. But she fell quiet, waiting to hear his next piece. If he was unwilling to learn or accept any of this, then this stranger she had named would be sent forcefully on his way.
There was a brief silence before the golden male spoke, asking for his name. But before he could answer the Spine male, the female spoke, speaking in a language that he had heard before but did not understand, the language that his father spoke. But it didn't matter anymore, none of his past did, not the Plains, not his mother, not his sister, not his father, not his birth status as a bastard. He was starting anew now, and with that, he was throwing everything away. She spoke as if answering her partner, and her partner's question had been what his name was. Perhaps she was renaming him. It wasn't unwelcomed, not one bit, in fact, the Roman would love to embrace a new identity, this was where he would begin once more.
The leader gazed at him as she spoke the requirements needed for him to run with the Spine, to run with these wolves. Training as a warrior, that was fine, fighting was something he excelled at and loved after all, being a guardian was similar to being a warrior. Like two sides of a same coin. Those requirements, he was sure he would be able to fulfill. Then the Spine female told him what he did wrong, told him that they were a pack and that he would learn to hunt with them. She deemed what he just did, hunting solitarily as foolish. The Roman yearned to prove her wrong but held his tongue, she did not seem like those who appreciated being challenged in the middle of a speech. Not now.
"I will fulfill your requirements," Levi, no, Arverk stated in his rough tone. "I will learn." Straight and right to the point. He was not a fool, and he would prove it to his superiors, to the wolves that he would soon call packmates. Turning to the golden wolf, though averting his eyes so he would not gaze directly into the other male's eyes. "Leviticus," he answered the question that was first asked. "But I guess I'm Arverk now."
Before the wolf could answer, Tonravik issued him a name. Well then. She had decided. This wolf was welcome within their fold and Kerosene was inclined to agree. Arverk. He rolled the name within his head. He hadn't the slightest idea what it meant as much of Tonravik and her origins were still a mystery to him. He'd ask sometime, in private, but for now he was content to let her speak and present to him their offer. They required strength within their pack. This wolf had it so long as he was teachable, trainable, and willing to work with others as opposed to alone. He knew from experience those habits were hard to break.
The dark whale spoke back, agreeing to their terms and making such promises as to suggest he would not fail. He had spirit. That was good enough for now. "Come then," Kerosene said, his lips curled in the softest of smiles as he recognized this wolf had accepted his new name just as easily Kero had taken on Iqniq once upon a time. Kero stepped forward and nudged the wolf's shoulder lightly before rubbing his fur within the wolf's own. Their mix of scents would suffice for anyone else Arverk encountered after their meeting. "Welcome to the Spine."
He turned then, glancing briefly towards his mate as he made to lead the way home.
His words were met with a sharp look. He, in seconds, had become what she had named him. There was no guessing to it, and she could sense that he knew that. Tonravik, too, shifted to press her furs into the other so that he might smell of them and their subordinates would know that there was another among them, now. Iqniq said his welcome, and Tonravik said no more.
The dark newcomer was welcome to follow them or to investigate the territory on his lonesome. She herself remained beside her mate, ear-to-ear and shoulder-to-shoulder as the bear of a wolf marched back home, to resume the evenings patrol.