Ira had been meant with no resistance as he slipped out of Swiftcurrent Creek's birders though the child took adequate credit for this, promoting it to be a combination of intellect and skill. He had observed the patterns of the wolves – his guardian, Jinx among them - that patrolled the borders over the course of a couple days, knowing that not every wolf was a quote 'creature of habit'; regardless he had exhibited a surprising and perhaps remarkable amount of patience and his stalking given his tender age of four months now. Ira wondered if Jinx would have been proud if she had known; though if she had figured out what he was up too it had not been from the child who had coveted his activities as a closely guarded secret. Most things he did lately, Ira found himself wondering what Jinx would think – if she would approve or disapprove. Whatever other motives Ira had in his life, he yearned for the Kesuk's praise and lessons more than anything. Ira did not consider this as a growing affection for Jinx, given their arrangements of their ...relationship, though beneath his blatant denial it was the seedlings of affection, dangerous and toxic as they were him.

Fierce milky blue eyes with flecks of starbursted crystalline blue around the pupils scanned the vaguely familiar lands, though Ira remained unsure if Jinx and him had came this way on a journey to Swiftcurrent Creek or not. Most landscapes looked like one or another to him, unless they were drastically different. Unlike when Ira had first been brought to these lands by Tark he did not put distance between Swiftcurrent Creek's birders and himself with previous design of running away. While the insolent child was not fond of Lethe in the slightest he clung to his Mambo with a possessiveness. Brazen and fearlessly he made the journey to a lake he thought was called Duck Lake though he found out the appropriation of the name by the feathered fiends that roamed the snow covered banks, causing him to freeze, muscles of childhood pulling taunt beneath his insipid coat laced with silver.

Though Ira had been immediately taken with the idea of claiming an avian as his own for a companion, it was not ducks that he had in mind. He found them to be rambunctious, obnoxious, and dirty. Lips lifted in evident disgust borne of an irrational and seemingly random fear of them. Princelings weren't supposed to be afraid of anything, and there was a certain irony in the fact that Ira was generally fearless except in the presence of ducks. They seemed contented to remain ignorant of his presence, and though he could not claim the same, he watched the small gathering in a predatory fashion familiar to his species. Ira did not move closer instead stationing himself as far away from them as he could manage without straying too far from the lake.

A presence became known to Ira in a rather abruptly bizarre fashion, having left the insolent child watching the exchange between canine and feathered fiends mutely. Her bark echoed around them, startling the ducks into quacking their protests loudly, their feathers flying in irritation as they rose into a shortly resulted flight. Ira's ears pinned back to his head as his lip lifted to expose a wickedly sharp tooth in evident distaste as he scuttled back a few steps. His heart beat echoed loudly in his ear drums as he imagined being caught in the whirlwind of sharp beaks, free falling feathers and failing wings. They had not been chased in his direction, of which he was relieved, but that did not lessen the quivering in his insides or the icy kiss of adrenaline in his veins. They seemed to settle disgruntled a few feet away from the canine responsible for disturbing them and as if remember her existence Ira turned his head in the fire kissed woman, milky blue eyes sharp as he squinted as her accusingly, with definitive scrutiny. Silently, Ira pondered her sanity as she shot him a look and invited him to join her in her...madness. Indeed, that was Ira thought of her game: madness.

He was skeptic of the fun to be found in aggravating the feathered demons. Ira could only imagine what would happen if their flight instincts turned in aggression to fight instead. Ira looked from the fire kissed woman to the ducks, watching as one's tail quivered as it took a dump. "Ew," Ira remarked quietly, before realizing another point. "But what if one shits on you?" Birds had the ability to excrete mid-flight Ira recalled. He wasn't exactly sure the origins of his learning of the second explicit word though in truth, it did not matter. What mattered was when he used them Jinx did not reprimand him for them and so they were allowed.

A resounded 'hmph' slid effortlessly from Ira's lips as she laughed at him, his superiority complex disliking the notion of her laughter though he was not able to tell with any degree of certainty if it was true mirth (as far as Ira was aware he had not said anything remotely humorous), or simply a manner of mocking. Ira was not able to understand the humor behind a child using uncouth language simply because he was one. "Yes," Ira responded in a condescendingly flippant manner adding as an afterthought "So?" in a manner that reflected a near challenge for her to reprimand him for it. Not that it would cease his useage of such words anyway, primarily because Jinx held the highest privilege of being the only adult Ira felt obligated to listen to. There was fault in this practice of which Ira had yet to learn. The fire kissed woman offered advice in response to his initial question, causing Ira's expression to linger between disgust and incredulousness. Surely, he had misheard her. Shit on them? To Ira it sounded like something only heathens would do, and he concluded that was one of the numerous things beneath him. Silently, Ira rejected her advice for the simple fact that he was no heathen.

The fire kissed woman changed the subject, returning to the designs of her offer. Ira contemplated it for a few seconds. It would be hypocritical of him to allow the notion that it looked like it might be fun - only to take out some pent up aggravation unfairly upon them. Or perhaps it would help condition him control of his random fear of them, proving to be useful if it helped. "Fine," Ira allowed, padding in a beeline toward her, recognizing her scent as Swiftcurrent Creek as he neared. Idly, Ira wondered if she knew Jinx - though this seemed likely for Ira was confident his guardian was more social than he. Something that would need to be remedied. A princeling that did not know his future subjects pack-mates was no Prince at all. "Let's scatter their asses." Coy and mischevious grin tugged at the edges of Ira's lips, as his milky blue eyes, gleaming wickedly as they did, fell upon the group of ducks, muscles pullin taunt beneath his pallid coat in anticipation.

It wasn't that Ira was afraid of dirt, per say, for he had been known to return to his uncle looking like some kind of swamp monster. And to the best of his knowledge the mud hadn't been tainted by poop - but then again he hadn't really known. This ...this was measurably different than romping through a mud puddle, though. He could be pooped on by ducks of which he had astutely deemed as enemies. He did not like them and probably they did not like him, either. Which suited Ira extremely well. The woman mirrored his grin, and he turned his attention to the ducks then, lowering his front half, his butt wiggling in the air with some semblance of eagerness. She lunged first at them, the sound of her teeth snapping together echoing for a few seconds before Ira lunged after her, mimicking the snapping, the loud protests from the avians beating out the rapidity of his heartbeat. Zooming in on one duck in particular he snapped his jaws closed around a few tail feathers which released from the duck's body as it took flight. Ira paused attempting to spit out the feathers that clung to his tongue, his eyes almost crossing as he looked down his muzzle furiously trying to, futile though it was proving, free his mouth from the feathers.

At the point that Ira had finally scraped the last feather off of his tongue and spit it from his mouth he had deduced that he was inherently done with ducks. Forever. He 'hmph'ed ever so slightly when Fox laughed - though he grasped that she wasn't really laughing at him, nevermind that he himself was not actually laughing. Regardless, the insolent child let it roll off of his shoulders deciding that nevertheless he was probably a comical sight and in all fairness of the roles wee reversed he would have been laughing, too. Iced milky blue eyes watched her with subtle fascination as the fire kissed woman yelled at the ducks. The feathers, damp with saliva at his paws rose and fell on the slight breeze though Ira barely paid them any mind.

Currently, he was not quite sure what to make of Fox. She was different. Different than Jinx, than Tark, then any of the other wolves he had to compare her too. When she returned to him, he was greeted with a woof and a question. Parents? No. He had no such things. Once, yes, but they had abandoned him, left him to die and they no longer held any rights to those affectionate titles or esteem. "No," Ira scowled ever so slightly, tone resolute. But he did have Jinx. His Mambo. "Jinx is my guardian." He added a few seconds later, and though he would rather die than admit it he had a growing attachment to the Kesuk woman because to love her would be to destroy her.

Fox seemed incredulous when Ira admitted that Jinx was his guardian, if the tone and way she had repeated his Mambo's name was of any indication. Brow rose ever so slightly in question, unsure why it was so surprising to Fox. "Yes," Ira paused for a moment. "Jinx." He confirmed just in case Fox needed him to repeat it. "She is..." Ira struggled with what he wanted to say about Jon in response to Fox's statement about his Mambo being cool. In this, Ira would have to be careful. To say that she was amazing - because cool hardly scratched the surface of what he though of the amazon goddess that his Mambo was - would cause Ira to cognitively confront what he was trying so hard to deny what was happening internally. He couldn't love her because his love was a poison. Some wolves it killed instantly, and others it would kill subtly. That was what every death he'd witnessed this far pointed too. Him. He had destroyed them. "Very cool." Ira finished almost lamely.

"The alpha of Horizon Ridge is inadequate, I guess," Ira had never met him but trusted Jinx's judgement nevertheless. "And she has friends here. Someone she refers to as the Shaman and someone else." Personally, Ira wasn't sure he liked this elusive shaman because he had a right to some of Jinx's attentions; and Ira, being the attention whore seeker he was did not like that.