She had smelled her during the night and had been more than a little disappointed that the girl hadn’t sought her out, especially since Aguta did feel that she was owed an explanation. Faithfully, she had followed Siku for the last two years and had faithfully come here to the same faithful following of her only living female cousin birthed by Siku’s loins. But she could feel that loyalty waning, purely because the girl had taken off, vanished, without so much as a single word to Aguta. Though she knew that it was the right of the girl to come and go as she pleased, Aguta did feel that she was owed at least some sort of explanation since she had come with Tonravik following Siku’s orders. Aguta hadn’t wanted to leave Siku’s side, but had done so because she was told to. Going off without even a single word just didn’t sit well with the large woman.

Aguta hadn’t slept much during the night because a big part of her had wondered, had hoped, that her cousin would seek her out to offer an explanation. But the younger female never showed up. It wasn’t until the morning sun was beginning to make an appearance that the sound of a familiar voice rang out through the crisp morning air. Rising to her paws, Aguta began to make her way in the direction the call had come from. She carried herself proudly, and gracefully, as she moved along the mountain side. It was easy to read in her movements and her stiff expression that she wasn’t very pleased, in the least, about being kept in the dark. Was she really that lowly that she didn’t deserve to be told what was going on? It sure felt like it to her.

As she caught sight of her cousin, the large woman slowed her pace, lowering her tail just enough to be respectful, but not so low as to be viewed as lowly. As she neared, there was a scent upon her cousin that she recognized, though it was a scent that she’d not smelled in a while. It was the scent of the woman that had given her one of her scars during what was supposed to have been a spar and nothing more. It wasn’t a strong scent, but it was there enough that told Aguta that it was recent. Icy colored gaze narrowed, slightly, as she came to a halt. Aguta didn’t offer her usual greeting of going up to the girl and at least bumping shoulders. Instead, Aguta remained standing a few feet away, unmoving, clearly showing that she was upset. Aguta was tired of being second to absolutely everyone. She’d come too far, served her aunt for far too long, to play second to everyone again.

She stood there, watching, waiting, unmoving and unspeaking. From her aunt, she had learned that actions spoke a whole lot louder than words, but this was one of those moments when actions weren’t going to cut it entirely. She expected words, expected some sort of explanation as to what had driven her cousin to leave without so much as a single word or assurance that she would return. There was a lot riding on this moment, this very moment in time, whether either of them really knew it or not.

Remaining absolutely silent, she listened when her cousin began to speak. At first, Aguta thought that was going to be all that was said, as if it would have made everything all better again. Much to her surprise, the younger female continued speaking. When Tonravik acknowledged that she should have let Aguta know, the older female gave a slight nod of her head. Yes, her cousin should have very much let her know. Aguta was very disappointed that she hadn’t, and did wonder if that meant her cousin had little regard for the woman who had loyally and very faithfully remained by the Issumatar’s side until being sent away to spread Tartok with the Issumatar’s only living daughter.

It wasn’t until Tonravik spoke of Siku thinking of her that Aguta felt her stance softening a bit, but not entirely, though it was enough to make her not look as angry and hurt as she had just moments before. She continued to remain silent while her cousin finished saying what she had to say. Aguta wanted to pick her own words carefully and not just allow her disappointment and anger rule her mouth because that wouldn’t lead to anything but more anger. “Respect is earned,” she finally began. “Loyalty is earned. I am here because it is what your mother told me to do, or I would still be following faithfully by her side.”

Falling silent once more, the large, but slender, female began to move forward, closing the distance between her and her cousin, stopping only once she stood directly in front of the younger female. “I watched you grow from a pup to the young woman you are now,” she began again. “I have loved you from the time I met you, as I have loved your brothers from the time I met them. I respected and adored your father. And, as is no secret, I respect and love your mother, my Aunt.”

Allowing her head to lower slightly, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I will follow you as I followed your mother, but you will have to earn my respect, Tonravik.” As she continued speaking, she lifted her gaze toward her cousin, watching her. “I am not a blind follower to be cast aside when the mood arises. If you wish for my respect, you in turn must respect me.” Aguta could now only hope she'd not crossed a line by voicing what she'd voiced.

After having said what she’d needed to say to her cousin, the woman fell silent, watching and waiting. She didn’t expect further words to come from her cousin because they’d both already said everything that needed to be said that couldn’t be said without words. There were just things that sometimes could only be spoken with words, just as there were things that could easily be spoken without words. Aguta had learned long ago within the Tartok family that words weren’t always necessary but that when words did have to be spoken, they weren’t to be taken lightly. This was clearly one of those times and, luckily, it seemed to be working out for the best. This was obviously a good thing because Tartok, as a whole, meant everything to Aguta.

When she stepped forward, bringing her nearer to her cousin, it was not done to show dominance nor an aggressive movement and she hoped that Tonravik would know that. When her cousin lifted her head a bit, Aguta lowered hers some, but not so much as to show that she was the weakest link or something. She only lowered it just enough to be slightly lower than Tonravik’s. Aguta was not going to settle for being below anyone but her cousin and would very much do whatever it took to make sure that not only Tonravik knew that, but everyone else as well. She’d come too far with her life to be made to revert to being low wolf on the totem pole, that much was certain.

Her cousin closed the remaining distance between them and Aguta readily accepted the pressing of their chests, accepting the silent vow from her cousin. To show that she accepted it all, Aguta slid her muzzle against the underside of Tonravik’s, touching her nose to the side of the younger female’s neck. Nor will I, she silently vowed in return. Bringing her head back, Aguta allowed herself to offer an affectionate gesture to her cousin by briefly licking the side of the other female’s muzzle. Her tail swayed slowly behind her, still slightly lifted but not at all higher than Tonravik’s.

It was hard for Aguta to accept that she hadn’t been allowed to show affection to her cousins as they grew up and it was apparent, now, that it still pained her a little as her cousin pulled away. For the most part, Aguta readily accepted Siku’s ways, strove to try to make her aunt proud and learn what she could from the older female. But it was hard for her to accept no allowed shows of affection because that was not how she, herself, had been raised. Her father (whom she had turned her back on years ago and no longer acknowledged as her father) had doted on her, making it easy for her to be the weakest link in a sense. But that wasn’t how things were in Tartok. In Tartok, you had to be hard, swallowing emotion and keeping it to yourself.

Tonravik then asked a question of her and Aguta had to think for a moment how to answer. She didn’t want to tell her cousin about how she’d gone on a reckless run to try to run from her own self, to try to run from the anger and jealousy that coursed through her veins on an almost daily basis because that would make her sound weak, and that was not something that sat well with the scarred woman in the least. “I explored,” was how she chose to word it, rather than allowing herself to show any sort of weakness. “To the north. I ran into a male; Godry. He was from there.” She didn’t come right out and say that she hunted with the male, either, nor that she’d done so because she didn’t think her cousin was coming back.

“I thought you’d gone,” she continued, slicking her ears against her head. “I walked the mountain, from bottom to top, with a woman called Muirrin. We spoke of the ghosts of the mountain, ghosts of the past, and traveled to the top.” Aguta let her icy gaze travel over Tonravik’s face, but avoided direct eye contact. “I craved the company of another, and she filled that void for that moment.” Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot that Aguta had seen or heard. She just hoped that her cousin would not hold it against her that she had doubted that Tonravik was going to return, especially considering she hadn’t been told of the younger female’s plight to seek out Siku in the first place.

Aguta truly had no idea that Goldry would eventually end up following her here. When she had parted company from him, she’d done as she always did and made her tracks very difficult to follow. That was her way. It was what she had learned to do under Siku’s guidance. And now, it was something that had become absolute habit to her. Tartok was to be protected at any cost, including making it just that much harder for anyone to track her. One would have to be one hell of a good tracker to be able to follow anything left behind by Aguta.

The rumble from her cousin was met with a slight one of her own. This was not done as a challenge, obviously, but more as a ’you were gone and I had no idea if you were going to ever return or not’ sort of way. She would not be punished for something that was not entirely her fault, not that she thought Tonravik was going to punish her. “It would not have happened had I known…” She didn’t have to finish her sentence because she was sure that her cousin would easily be able to figure out what she was talking about.

Aguta gave a slight shake of her head. No, not Loa, per say. “Wolves of past,” she responded. “Harmless, though.”