Heron Lake Plateau punch drunk

To say that Ambrose was jealous of Niamh and everything she'd made of herself was an understatement, although he loved her very much and felt an equal measure of pride as well. She had escorted him to the pack boundary and then across it, all the while explaining the dynamics of the upper echelon. He had listened as she name-dropped his competition, but at the same time Ambrose had been thoroughly impressed by the look of the place. Hearing the name did not do it justice — Heron Lake Plateau, it wasn't an impressive name, but the plateau itself sprawled across the horizon and was replete with vegetation and creatures, so much so that he could spy the namesake birds flying overhead with their prehistoric silhouettes and feel somewhat enthralled.

But as he expected, something called Niamh away after a couple of hours. He watched her go, then began to plot. The biggest thing keeping him from winning his bet with Bruges was time, which he was running out of. He'd have to impress the higher-ups and earn himself a higher rank as quickly as possible, anything to get him started. As he suspected, getting in to the pack was the easy part.

Ambrose knew he had to acclimatise himself to this place, learn the layout, and be a useful member — he could kill all the birds with one stone, so to speak, by buckling in and getting straight to work and so he headed for the lake proper. All the while he was studying the scents and markings around the territory and trying to commit it to memory — and to be honest, he felt a little bad for doing it. It felt like he was spying. Soon enough he was at the lake's edge.

He drank some of the water with a few hasty licks, then lifted his head and looked around, eager to get into something.

And who better to show Ambrose around than one of the Redhawk's top performers? Although she did not know it, she had very nearly done what Ambrose had set out to do in his bet with Bruges. Her first month in the pack she had achieved Epsilon.

She had taken things easy the following weeks after her near-experience with a heat stroke. It had taken her out of commission long enough that she had gotten wild and restless, and now she was entirely ready to burn off some of that energy. She bordered the lake, searching out some of the plants that Raven needed, when Ambrose caught her eye.

Made it in, did you?

A voice carried to his ears, and he turned a grinning face towards the silhouette of a wolf by the lake. The water was calm behind her, but it served as a mirror to the sunlight and so he was briefly unable to tell who exactly was talking at him — but he came striding over easily enough, and realized it was the girl with the red hair from before. The one who had been the first to greet him.

I did. Where'd you run off to? He countered with a playful tone, and a raise of his brows. It hadn't seemed that strange to him at the time, but he had been distracted by Niamh. Now that Ambrose was alone he realized how odd it was that she had vanished so swiftly. Perhaps they didn't get along? A preposterous notion, he thought — everyone loved his sister.

A shiver runs down her spine and she feels her blood run cold as he asks where she'd run off to. Me? Run off? Pah! Her casual, confident demeanor shattered for a moment and she scrambled desperately to pick up the pieces in front of Niamh's Totally Not Handsome Brother. There's a lot of work to do 'round here, brother, she counters, smoothing her guard hairs and traipsing along the lake's edge. Anyone shown you around yet?

She snapped at him in a way that reminded him of Niamh; had he mentioned that to her, perhaps he'd have made an enemy in that moment. He couldn't help but see the similarities between this girl and his sister. For a moment a flicker of indecision plagued her and Ambrose found some glee in that, but things shifted quickly and soon they were all business.

I could use a guide, he admitted, but then he shrugged his dappled shoulders. You offering? His gaze narrowed slightly for an instant before he was grinning again. This was going pretty well; if things were this easy then maybe he'd win that bet after all! Part one was finding Niamh's pack and joining it, and that was done. Now he just had to fixate on part two: charm some lady. Or maybe he should've been focusing on work? Whatever. She was hot, he was hot, this wasn't rocket science.

Truth be told, she wasn't quite over Raven. She didn't know, really, if she'd ever be over Raven. But this guy already seemed as if she could stand up to her banter. He reminded her of @Colt and of @Tuathal, and even though they were both her brothers she counted that as a good thing.

Except, well, she hadn't talked to Colt since he had gotten together with Niamh. Maybe she should fix that. Not right now, though.

She raised a brow at him and quirked a grin. There are better tour guides, but none of them are in front of you. She smacked a paw against the water's edge and tried to hit him with the spray before she cantered a few paces away, towards the main cache. Let's go!

When she relented, he waited for her to lead the way and was met by a splash of water instead. As the spray caught him in the face, he pulled back as if the water would melt him on contact. He shook his head and shoulders to dry off quickly (not that it helped much) and then turned to chase after her. Ambrose wasn't going to let her get away with that in the long run — it was his job to get her wet wasn't it?

(I'm so sorry that was terrible.)

Wait up — he hollered as he turned and charged after her, catching up easily enough.

I'M SCREAMING

So he was a good sport, too! She loosed a laugh as her gallop slowed to a lope, and she breathlessly led him to the cache. I'm presuming you know how these bad boys work, she says, It's a cache. You catch shit and put it in here, and then take it out before it gets all nasty and rotten.

But even as she begins to explain, her mind is elsewhere. She didn't really have any friends here. She had a lot of family, but the one she liked the most she'd been avoiding. And she wasn't really as self-assured as she liked to front. She wanted to get to know Towhee, but wasn't she in it with Niamh? The only one she really had was Raven, and after blurting out her feelings she wasn't sure how long she could make that last. Moose had left.

This guy was her only shot, for now. And it would be doubly hilarious, since he was Niamh's brother. We've also got borders that need refreshed. Uh, since we're on a plateau, we can't be accessed from the East so I usually stick to the West but you can never be too careful. And then I've got some gardens that I keep for Raven, but.. I don't let people around them that don't know shit about plants. She puffed up her chest as she explained, Raven's our medic and one of our alphas, and I train under her. The garden is where I plant our medicinal herbs and keep them watered. It's thriving. And she totally didn't do it because she liked Raven or anything. Not at all. Maybe she should stop bragging now. What did you do, wherever you came from? Got any helpful quirks like that?

Okay so they went through the usual rundown - caches, border specifics, whatever. The usual rundown? He thought suddenly, as if I've done this a hundred times before. Pfft. Except he hadn't. Just once before, and that hadn't ended very well. This would work out better because he had his sister to lean on and a brother to annihilate, or so he thought now. Ambrose wasn't aware of this yet but his month-long stint as a Redhawk wouldn't win any bets.

When she mentioned a person named Raven he perked up a little, and made sure to mentally repeat the information so it got ingrained to his memory. Raven was the medic and the alpha, so he'd have to make extra nice with them.

What did you do? was a loaded question but he didn't miss a beat.

Niamh and I always tried to out-do each other, we've always been competitive like that, he explained easily enough, but then hesitated before leading in to the next stage of his life: I joined up with a band of guys my age for a while and that was a blast, until my brother showed up and screwed with things. Literally. But that was a sore spot for Ambrose so he didn't get too detailed about it.

I'm good at everything. Hunting is a necessity, and sparring has always been a good way to blow off steam. What about you, do you ever get in to fights? Could probably hold your own, his gaze slid across her figure in a lingering fashion before his grin reset itself, and he waited to see if she'd flinch away from him or shrink like one of her little flowers.

It reminded her of herself and Tuathal, and she felt something heavy lay in her chest. She swallowed it, for it'd do no good to linger on. My brother and I, we were the same way. It was all she'd offer. She didn't have much to say about Niamh; there was a distinct feeling of being disliked whenever she was around Ambrose's sister.

Pft. I keep up everything 'round here, mister do-it-all. I hunt, I patrol, and you're damn straight I can hold my own in a fight. Wanna go? She watches his gaze linger over her form and she thinks of Sunny, and then of the trespasser she had to kill on the borders; bile raises in her throat but she stands her tallest, ears pressed forward in friendly challenge.

Well! He picked the right girl, obviously. But of course he did, he had great taste. She sounded like the ideal candidate for the charming side of his bet; had he been thinking a bit deeper about it, Ambrose would realize he was being an absolute dickwad by making this decision. It was a dick move, plain and simple.

Her offer to fight brought a laugh to his lips. He couldn't hold back at the idea of sparring with her, filling the air with his booming, meanwhile his tail was flipping about at his hocks. I was hoping to have a little bit of fun - sure, I'll take you on. I'll try to go easy, don't wanna bruise that pretty face. Oh god did he just wink?

Don't know how you wanted to do the spar so I didn't take many liberties here. <3

If she would've known about his bet with Bruges, she would've been hurt beyond belief. Already she's felt like she's the outcast in Redhawks, and more than once her feelings have been taken advantage of. She had a carefree attitude and a heart that gave freely; it was really no surprise.

But thankfully for Ambrose, she was ignorant of his bet, and it was likely she would play straight into his hand. She was lonely and had a fiery ego that didn't like to go too long without being stoked.

She did not wait for him to finish speaking to leap at him, insutled enough by his playful jab that she was willing to play dirty in order to put him in his place. She was light on her feet and more than used to heavy-hitting opponents and was hopeful she'd be able to catch him off guard enough for her attack to hurt.

His goading had worked as intended — she lunged for him as soon as the verbal jab had left his lips and he, dancing about with a chuckle, did his best to avoid being smacked by her oncoming assault. The girl moved much more swiftly than he'd anticipated (or maybe he was still used to the burly menfolk he used to tussle with), so when she did connect it surprised him. Ambrose had enough leeway to avoid any real damage, and he playfully snapped at her nearest body part with the intent to startle her and get a reaction. If she moved away, he'd close the distance. If she didn't, well, then he'd have a good chance at a free shot. It made sense to stay as close as possible so that she couldn't out-position him; if he kept himself up close then her fleet feet were useless.

Same here! I have a hard time visualizing where they're positioned so I hope this is ok lmaoo

Her temper had gotten the better of her, and she'd done exactly what he'd expected her to. It threw off her initial approach and left her in deep water she wasn't sure if she'd be able to navigate out of. She was used to sparring with burly men, and the group she'd joined just before the Redhawks had fought much the same.. but Ambrose was better than any of those nimrods had ever been.

He stayed in her personal bubble far more than she would've liked. If she couldn't dance around him, she couldn't wear him out.

She didn't want to be shown up this early, but she had few tricks in her book. He dove close to her, and she snapped at his muzzle in retaliation — much too broad for her to hold onto, it slipped through her grasp — and he gripped the flesh between her scruff and shoulders. It singed, white-hot where his fangs connected with her flesh, and she choked back a frustrated noise.

As he expected, each time she gave an inch he was there to close the gap and that left her with little course for action. After enduring a few of her snaps he went for a grab of his own, and nipped at the flesh of her neck. He was careful to pinch but not break the skin; and he'd hastily reposition after every nip, being more of an annoyance than a danger.

He let her go after a few grabs, and even gave her a few feet of room to move around. It wasn't fun if she couldn't at least try to fight back - that was the point of a spar. He made a show of it though. Ambrose backed off with prancing steps and his tail raised high, keenly aware of her position and waiting for her to try something.

He did not break the skin and for that she was thankful, she didn't want to go tell Raven she'd been getting in over her head and that spot was a bitch to treat on her own. Soon enough he let go,

So that was where Niamh got it from; both the attitude and the skill, she presumed. He trounced around her, chest puffed with pride and her tail whirled rigidly behind her as she let out the most menacing growl she could. He'd made the mistake of giving her room to work with and even as good as Ambrose had proved himself to be, she was fleetfooted.

She danced and darted, feinted close and then pulled away bicker than her opponent (at least, that was the idea). She had the endurance to wear them down, and once their reactions became slowed it was all over.

As long as he allowed her to she'd keep up this game, nipping at his hocks when he'd get too close and as soon as he made a misstep, she'd begin to really throw her weight around. She pushed close and sought a pressure point to deaden one of his rear legs; without use of it he would not be able to retaliate.

Giving her space served to undermine his own efforts, but he was fine with that. The spar became more of a game of dodges; she was impressively quick and Ambrose had to adapt to her attacks on the fly, which at first was tiring. When he caught on to what she was aiming for (tiring him out rather than hit him hard) he became more reserved with his parries.

Instead of trying to defend himself against the flurry of her movements he showed signs of fatigue. He purposefully began to return weaker snaps and slower counters, biding his time until Fire did something drastic. His goal was to bait her close again and then, if it worked, he'd begin to crowd her all over. She wanted to tire him out with her speed, but he would turn that back on her, let her tire herself out instead — and then try to bowl her over.

Being the absolute best at everything all the time caused her to be arrogant and much less careful than she should've been. Ambrose had already proven himself a worthy opponent, but the boys she'd run with before the Redhawks could never keep up with her fleetfooted grace. She was not looking for a feint as she dove towards his leg and he successfully caught her off guard. She did not lose her balance like he wished; instead she took a few reeling steps backwards with Ambrose hot on her heels.

She'd have to play it his way, because he had already tricked her twice. There was no room to move back now. She took careful aim and reared onto her back feet — a dangerous move that could send her flying if she missed —

She'd have to play this game his way, because twice already he had tricked her and she wouldn't be fooled again. With no room to move back now, she took careful aim and reared, front legs lifting off the ground. She made herself taller to launch at the thick flesh of his exposed chest.

They were evenly matched in skill and personality, not that he'd admit that any girl was his equal except for, maybe, Niamh; but his attitude was much the same. Ambrose thought he was tough shit. He knew he had skills and he knew he had been the cream of the crop at one point in his life. That carried through to this moment, where he was sparring with some random girl and believed himself to be outsmarting her. Yes, he was quick-thinking, he was tactical, but so was she.

And when she rose up to counter his efforts with a drastic movement of her own, he was actually surprised. His reaction was slowed by his surprise long enough for Fire to connect — clobbering against his chest and making him lose a step or two. It took a moment for him to recover from and by that point she had the upper hand, a fact that was glaringly obvious when he tried to retaliate with the same close-up maneuvers as he had been using before.

Bingo.

He isn't expecting such a fierce, in-your-face counterattack. His long legs carry him swiftly back one step, two, and already she is in his space again. He actually tries the same thing he had just been doing, and she's almost so confused it makes her lose focus.

But not quite. She launches herself at him again, not with her fangs this time but with her entire body weight. She's small but she's built well, and she packs much more of a punch than she looks like she should. Her goal is to bowl him over and force him into submission, and she doesn't intend to be nice about it until he secedes.

It reminds him of his many battles with Niamh growing up, which keeps him in high spirits even as she closes the gap and begins to turn his tactics back upon him. She crowds him and nothing he can do compensates for it; she is fast, and knows perfectly well how to use her body to the best advantage. She may even be better than him. Ambrose would never admit that but he will admit watching her thrills him to no end, and he will be considering this game in the future. It is a good memory.

She succeeds in bowling him over. Maybe it is the blip of commendation in his fleeting thought that allows it — maybe he just isn't trying that hard, and wants to fall. But he staggers and is brought to the dirt with some finesse, and he is stuck for a moment too long on his back with his velvet-black belly exposed. He should've been agitated (maybe he was, to some degree) but Ambrose couldn't help but laugh as he flailed at her, calling out: Uncle! Uncle!

She feels good to have bested him; hearing him cry out beneath her is something she will not soon forget. She lingers above him a beat longer than necessary before she steps off. She has enough sense not to gloat but she is glowing a little brighter than before.

Good game, she says, offering probably the most genuine smile anyone's seen from her in a while (although Ambrose would have no way of knowing that, perhaps he would catch on the longer he stayed with the Redhawks). We should go again some time.

She clears her throat and takes a few retreating steps. What is she doing, making friends? Everyone always left anyway. This man would be no different. Whether it was sooner or later, the good ones always did.

Uh, anyway, think you got it from here? You can come get me if there's anything else you need filled on.

He can tell by the look in her eye that she'll be lording this over him for a while. Ambrose thinks about that for a split second before something more horrifying comes to mind - what if she tells Niamh? He can't have any rumors spreading about how he lost to a girl! If he was going to make a name for himself he'd have to compensate for this loss; maybe he'd start a war, or save some damsels, or fight a dragon (or a bear, wink wink).

When she lets him up he's laughing but there isn't much cheer in his eyes. He's a sore loser; comes with the territory. But she's washing her hands of him quickly enough, and he's nodding, I'll be sure to do that. Thanks for the spar, was fun, and he's already making a hasty exit. No time to waste, after all.