Songs were sung that day, neither carrying positive news. The thought of the woman that had brought him to meet other children no longer being in charge made his stomach twist in a way that he was not familiar with—fear, perhaps? He wondered if things would change, if life would be different from this shift in the ranks. He looked to the uppik with uncertainty in his gaze and she seemed to understand, as she landed—briefly—upon his back and preened the young boy’s nape. Although it was not the same as the endearing touch of a mother, it comforted him all the same, for he knew with the sentiment came memories of the north, of ancestors he’d never known.

Soothed at last, Aningan nosed his companion, insisting that she return to her hideaway. Once she’d gone, he redirected his nose towards the earth and began his search for @Caiaphas, the worry returning and growing in the pit of his stomach.

Salt, brine, ocean air... so many scents flooded his nares, some he recognised and many that he did not. He kept at his search, his attempts at picking one scent from a collection of many making itself out to be impossible—but the notion of impossibility was but an idea of the conscious mind alone. As the siren’s approach broke the silence that surrounded him, Aningan lifted his head just in time to see her face before it vanished against his nape, and he realised that perhaps his senses were not as bad as previously suspected to be.

But that wasn’t the point of his being there, he could test his limits at any other time.

As Caiaphas pulled back and met his gaze, his mind was swarmed with, perhaps, a hundred different questions. “Koven?” he asked, gaze intensifying as he focused on her expression. “Ânniaven? AullalikKen?” More questions swarmed in his mind and poured out through his gaze, all directed at her—until he tore his eyes from her face and redirected it towards her form. He circled her once, then twice, before settling back down in front of her.

“What happened?” he finally got out, his tongue returned to one better understood between them. “Who is he?” And why was he suddenly at the forefront of the hierarchy?

Others existed to take things away from him. The lesson seemed a familiar one though the words had never been strung together that way. He had observed it, to an extent. It was evident in the way that his mother had deserted him in favour of his siblings, taking from him a family. It was evident in the way that, even before that, he’d been taken away from his paternal family, the life that he could have led stripped away.

It wasn’t fair.

“I won’t let them,” was yet another declaration made. “I won’t let anyone take anything from me.” Not him nor her, nor anyone else that he cared for—never again.

Even with his certainty, she disagreed. His face fell and expression soured, disbelieving of her claim. Surely, if he did everything right, no one would be able to take something away from him, right? Perhaps she misjudged him, he thought, and believed him to be incapable of defending himself. Yeah, that had to be it. Which meant that he would just have to prove her wrong, one way or the other.

“I’ll be ready,” he agreed then, assuring her whilst his conclusion was kept to himself. In time, Aningan would show her that he could control his life without any problems. For now, however, he would keep quiet about his innermost thoughts and factual opinion (something his writer is laughing at him for, in all honesty).

When around the woman, he never had his guard up; he trusted her and had not once gotten any bad vibes when around her. So when a paw swung out to thwap him, he wasn’t the least bit prepared for it. His body jolted upright, surprised by the sudden contact, whilst shock was scrawled across his face. But, in a matter of seconds, the shock was wiped away and his tail was waving behind him, eager to contribute to the game. He started off in a bowing stance, thinking, before leaping towards her with the intention of knocking into her with his shoulder.

As she tumbled he followed after her, part of him wondering if she was okay and the other part eager to continue. But as he moved, so did she, and the nip to his hock became so much more; the pinch startled him—he hadn’t figured out what she was doing at first—which, coupled with the momentum behind his body, had catastrophic results.

First, he fell.

Then, he rolled.

And finally, he slid.

A loud yipe spilled from his lips and, by the time he was back up on his feet, his left hindlimb was pulled up and touching the ground only about every other step. Even more determined to continue now, to prove that he was capable, he pushed off with both back legs just enough to jump towards her, paws outstretched and jaws wide, aiming to grab onto the same shoulder he’d previously knocked into.