It was night, again.
 
They were in the mountains, again, alone together.
 
But not quite.
 
He could smell the other wolves in the air. Not just the scent of something cold but the scent of something—someone—strange and foreign and othering covering it. It set his teeth on edge. Made his hackles bristle along his shoulders, back, and neck. He lingered—hovered—just out of view. Observing. And when he couldn’t any longer?
 
“Frosty.”
 
The bare minimum of acknowledgement, nothing more and nothing less.
 
He could feel the phantom sting of claws across his face. The edges of broken skin now collagen sewed.

Frosty stepped forward, and Daighre remained where he stood.
 
He settled back against his heels. Raised a single back leg to scratch at the back of one of his ears.
 
And while he did so—
 
“Fight any cougars lately?"

‘I saw it again,’
 
He grunted, then, in wordless acknowledgement.
 
‘I barely remember what happened before that.’
 
“You hit your head pretty fucking hard that night, Frosty.” Not once, but twice. The sound of bone knocking against stone as he fell. The sight and scent of blood. Blown pupils and eyes that lagged just a second behind, slow and distant.

It was a wonder he was still standing, in hindsight.

‘How?’
 
And what the fuck did he mean, ‘How?’
 
He was the fucking scaredy cat that threw himself down a hole from just being startled. His hackles stiffened and bristled, and he sneered, his upper lip raised and the bridge of his muzzle wrinkled. His head tipped backwards, his chin raised in defiance, in disgust, in arrogance.
 
“When you fell.” Dumbass.

He saw his posture change. Watched as his tail raised from behind him. And he snorted. Huffed. Looked somewhere into the middle distance below finally looking back.
 
“So, you really don’t fucking remember, Frosty?” He asked.
 
Fucking typical.

He gave a single step forward, rose to meet the challenge, his hackles raised and bristling and his body tense. His own tail hung high in the air behind him.

He must’ve hit his head a hell of a lot harder than he fucking thought, to forget what happened.

For a while, he dreamed of someone shouting, someone cursing at him, liquid slipping from their mouth. Maggots. The scent of vomit. He kicked in his sleep, and at last startled himself awake as he heard the dream beast shout into his ear, you really don’t fucking remember, Frosty? Taikon lifted his head in alarm, expecting nothing, and finding as he stirred that the voice was real.
Taikon plunged into defensive mode as soon as his eyes adjusted to find Zephyr not far from them. He bumped Takiyok intentionally as he flew to the silvery maiden, the fur all along his backside raising. His lips curled at once into a horrendous, uncharacteristically venomous show of teeth, and he let loose something loud and booming in his throat. He didn't know who this stranger was, and he didn't care. His nose flared. He was the only one of the lot still in good health. The prince did the math quickly. He glared, eyes dilated, staring hard at an unnerving, fiery and devilish gaze. Such a stare demanded explanation or battle.

First, there were two—him, and Frostfuck—and then, there was two too many. Two random fucking nobodies that were getting involved in shit that didn’t affect them.
 
He snarled.
 
Bristled.
 
Held his ground when Goldy and The Hag appeared to save the day, or whatever fucking service or great act of charity they thought they were doing. Being fucking annoying would have been a better—more befitting—explanation, to Daighre.
 
And yet, he held his tongue.
 
Didn’t take the step forward his body and self-esteem were screaming for him to take. Self preservation was a bitch. It wasn’t until Frosty spoke up did he finally react.
 
‘He won't hurt any of us. He's just angry by default —'
 
“Eat shit, Frosty.” He spat, his stance rigid and his eyes hard. And then, upon making eye contact, and with a sharp gesture towards the two extras standing on either side of him, “What the fuck is this? An ambush?”
 
It was a pretty cheap, shitty fucking tactic, all things considered. He might as well stuck with the fucking cougar.

Takiyok reacted exactly as he expected her to, which was comforting considering her injury. Taikon waited for a signal, his paws ready to push him toward the stranger and do whatever was necessary to protect them.
Zephyr moved closer to him, and he glanced at her expression. Apathy coated her sharp face. She nudged him lightly, and like a trained dog, he relaxed noticeably, licking his lips and sheathing his teeth. Then, the fire-eyed stranger cursed at them, which set Taikon back to his default protective strategy. Taikon stepped forward a pace, holding his head high, eying the stranger. Even though it was clear that Zephyr knew this impertinent.. animal, he was not about to slink off into the darkness. Not while they had little Taktuq with them, especially. I'm not going anywhere, he said, standing firm. One wrong move, and he'd have this idiot's face off in no time.