Mount Apikuni an easy distraction

For Xinuata!

Njal's body manoeuvred the plains with ease, even as they became rocky and covered in hills. The terrain was never a problem for him - he was built like a mountain wolf, born as a mountain wolf, and yet he had survived upon the plains with ease. He was a versatile beast, like his kin.

The man didn't know why he was here, really. He should have been back by the river, in his new home. Thoughts still plagued him though, and they prompted his desertion of his post for the time being; something that made his ears burn and heart heavy. Njal did not wish to be punished for this decision, as he was planning to return - but something begged him to move, to stumble about on this sunny winter day.

He came upon the mountainside and the man's progress slowed. There was a wariness about his movement, a certain level of caution. Njal wondered just what he would find here, in this place. What was he looking for? At this moment, the man wasn't sure. He just knew there was something here and he needed it, badly. A distraction from his thoughts, perhaps, or the resurrection of old memories.

It was warmer this day than it had been on most, even if the clouds continued their heavy hang overhead. What glimpses of light that could part through their veil was treasured, as the earth remained warm from where the light had shone, making for an ideal place to bask for a time. The winds now somewhat still for a time allowed for pale golden curls to absorb the warmth of the sun and give her body the energy it required. Though she had little do to this day beyond reclining. Duties were a figment as was obligation to another, yet her mind never ceased its straying toward dark corners both monstrous and alive. She wondered how the devil was fairing. In repose, she heard the hint of life on the mountain; a few granules of rocks as they slipped due to weight. Her head rose with attention, though she did not rush to stand to greet this presence right away. What flowed softly on the wind told its origin was lupine, and to this she gave short huff, calling out to whomever wandered too close to her basking spot.

The huff signalled to him that he was not alone, and this fact made the man's fur bristle slightly; he lifted his head and looked around, but was not fortunate enough to spy the woman who was basking. So he took a few more careful steps, dislodging small stones which tumbled beyond his view. When Njal's grizzled body emerged over the ledge, he caught her silhouette - burning bright due to the sun - and he instinctively stood at attention. It was by complete happen-stance that his wandering had brought him to her. It took a moment of scrutiny for the Russian to recognize the stranger - but when he did, his posture faltered in a subtle display of nerves. He was not on the plains and so he had no leeway here; she, no doubt, would recognize him as the fool who pestered her away from the lake.

He grunted in her direction and began to creep down the mountainside, as he was not too far from her already. With a level of ease, Njal found spots for his wide paws and descended until he was looming nearby. The man did not want to provoke her. This was her realm and he was now the invader, which was a thought that remained quite strong within his mind, as he carefully watched her.

Her search had been aimless, lacking determination at best, simply allowing her eyes to wander til she was given a hint of a direction. The male’s muffled grunt turned her gaze from its northbound pursuit to behold the light grey looming upon the mountainside. And his scent- a quiver of her nostrils and she recognized him fully; the brute that had prodded and made a fool of her by the creek. She had been minding her own business, much as she was doing now. Yet the rude thing saw fit to disturb her explorations. She could only imagine what more he wished to do to her on this occasion. Smoothly she rolled upward from her basking edge to stand, allowing for a brief stretch of her lengthy limbs before squaring her paws. The female said nothing as she looked to him, nor did her expression exhibit anything other than a quiet calm. Her tongue would roll across weathered maw and whiskered cheek, but she spared him no word, no sound other than the subtle clearing of an otherwise quiet voice. To what did she owe this unwarranted pleasure?

This was awkward.

If he had been anywhere else, anywhere near his home at the creek - than maybe Njal would have been confident, as he perused the rocks and spotted the golden woman. Not now, though. Not here. This was no his land and that made him the trespasser, the vagrant worthy of prodding and annoyance.

The woman cleared her throat softly, but as that was the only sound aside from a few tumbling stones, it carried eagerly across the mountainside; she watched him, and he, looking sheepish and out of place, lowered his head in an apologetic expression of submission. Still, Njal's tail would not placate her; it remained coyly raised as a remark towards his pack-bound situation. Njal was, after all, the Delta of Swiftcurrent.

He watched her for a moment longer, lingering for a reason he could not pinpoint within himself. And then, trying his best not to rain stones down upon her resting place, he began to slink away. The man's body was built for the mountains, but his lifestyle along the plains had ruined whatever natural prowess he may have had; leading his steps to be crooked, clumsy things. He managed to forge a path around her - but only part ways, before a stumble made him slide a few feet too close. The dust rose around him in that instant, and Njal scrambled for purchase among the boulders and dried grass.

Silently she watched as the familiar male crept away, his steps sloppy upon the stones though progressive from the ledge. Regardless of how he tried, his steps were too heavy to keep the smallest of stones from raining freely. And in turn she stepped away from their path while poorly stifling the smile from her muzzle. It was a treat, truly to watch another that had mocked her suffer in her domain. He was a billy that had forgotten his grace on the mountain and now struggled to relearn the careful steps to retain his balanced. One false move was all it would take. …and sure enough his method of withdrawal was found in error. Try as he may to lead himself away from the female, the earth would draw him back into her sights. His stumble would prove this if not the flawed manner of his descent. Relinquishing her basking ledge she walked near him to observe. Still a bit of distance stood between herself and him, but it was closer now that if she so choose, she could have reached out and prodded him just as he had heard. However, she was not fond of silly retaliations. Such things were for the young and childish at heart. “Do you need assistance?” she inquired politely, her voice low and expression impassive though her intentions were as sincere as was her concern.

The man came to a lurching stop in the soil, while still there were stones that made melodious tapping along the mountainside. Fumes of dust rolled around him, adding a warm tone to the grey of his pelt; tarnishing the silver strands with a soft chalk. He huffed and tried to adjust himself, eager to remove himself from the woman's presence before he was reprimanded or further embarrassed. For this was embarrassing. Njal had grown up on a mountain of ice and he had thought, obviously with a mind full of hostile arrogance, that it would be no different here. But the dirt was slippery. The rocks eager to run from beneath his steps. At least with ice his claws could sink and hold him; here, the soil parted and he was made a fool of.

“Do you need assistance?” The woman pointedly asked, and Njal turned a dull eye upon her sincerity, finding it suspicious. He expected something more. Laughter, perhaps, or the prodding of more volatile comments at his expense. Yet there was nothing - there was a genuine moment of care passing between them, which caught him more off-guard than his stumbling paws. "No," He gruffly crooned, while his stocky limbs tried to balance his heavy body along the ledge. He took a few defiant steps as if to prove a point, and once again began to slide; the shale of the mountain drifting out from under him, and clicking like laughter against their shapely neighbours.

Njal grunted with frustration and lowered himself, deciding to just have a nap or something. Keeping low would make him safer. He wouldn't fall, or so he believed. He watched his own paws as he carefully set down, like a robin carefully covering it's precious eggs; and then when he was rooted to the spot, he looked upon the woman with a smug expression. See, I'm fine, his look boasted. He refused her help, the same way she had refused his offer to teach her proper fighting techniques - they were both pig-headed, apparently.

As expected, there was refusal as opposed to him accepting her kind offer. To which she was more than willing to accept. There was no sense in continuing to pester the male when it was clear he had no intention of accepting her helping paw, rather he was content to try and keep himself standing on his own. However awkward it might have been. As the mountain came alive beneath him, she heeded its desires to flow towards the grounds. A pull of nature leading any that stood upon it in the hopes of falling into its embrace. Dangerous yet welcoming, and a pattern of motion all too familiar. Feeling the tendons of her limbs coil, she sprang from her stone to the slope of the mountain. Her paws were spread wide to encompass what she could with their full girth, then was swiftly taken by the slide, though she did not resist. Instead she let the rocks slip beneath her paws then pushed off when able to grasp a sturdier platform under paw. Her companion, however skillful on land, did not appear to have as much sense of his surrounds or grace while on the mountain. She looked sidelong to him as he remained pressed to the ground. She might have assumed he was injured had it not been for the smug expression on his muzzle. Her own maw twitched. Did he believe this was a victory somehow? How then did he expect to return to his domain? Slide and roll until he eventually hit the ground? Wanting no more of his expression, she turned from him to look below to a smoother path naturally carved into the mountain. She had only ever used it once, as it felt too much like the stable ground for her liking. Although for a learned plains-dweller, such a path might have proved ideal. Yet since her prior offer for aid was refused, she could only clear her throat and point her muzzle toward what lied below.

Njal considered himself to be a helpful and kind individual. He had always been that way - even when he was stranded from his home, in a place that did not feel, smell, or even sound like the Russian mountain from whence he came. Yet time had taken it's toll on his spirit; he was far more reserved now, withdrawn, and moody. Perhaps it was age that had ruined him. He was resistant to the help of this stranger despite her obvious lack of flaws; she had not even trespassed upon their initial encounter, but his zeal had been too much to bare. Njal was not as kind as he perceived himself to be. He was being a bratty old man, and it took time for the idiot to see it. When the woman canted her muzzle towards the smooth surface of a natural path, Njal almost ignored her. He turned his muzzle away as if the motion was unseen -

and then, slowly, he began to creep towards it.

It was easy enough to reach, and the stability afforded by the path was enough to allow him to stand straight. He looked around the area swiftly, perhaps for rocks which could serve as obstacles to trip upon, and was satisfied when he found little in the way of irritants. His gaze locked upon the golden woman then, and he gave a small nod of thanks - a bitter movement, which may have been received poorly judging by how lethargic an effort was put forth. Njal allowed himself to stoop his head a little lower upon reconsideration - and he even curled his tail down against the path, where it remained. She clearly knew what she was doing on the mountain, and even if he did not agree with the submission, it would keep him from falling to his potential ruin.

His ears flicked forward, cupping the silence that spread between them now that the rocks had stopped tumbling. Maybe it was her help that prompted a sort of truce to be offered, or maybe he was simply repaying the debt that her lesson had created between them. But Njal spoke up, suddenly. His voice thick with an accent of a faraway land, and crackling with dusty disuse. "Have you reconsidered my offer?" He called to her, while canting his head in a display of curiosity. If she could teach him to move on the mountain, he could teach her to fight upon it - and they would both grow stronger.

When at last the dust settled and the rocks ceased their tumble, she cold revel in the silence of the mountain once more. Only the wind dared to stir the crisp mountain air, offering not scents of her company but of the wild itself. The stubborn brush that clung to the sides of the boulders, the heavy musk of goat prancing a ways just out of her vision. She could ignore his presence if he so desired, and offer him the privacy of his climb from treacherous earth to stable stone. She would not have minded in the slightest. The ground began to shift as it became acclimated to her weight. The slippery rock seeking to return to the mountain’s base and take with it the female that stood to command it. As it beckoned, she heeded though swiftly ascended by pressing against a protruding ledge to settle squarely on the surface a little above that male’s would-be path. “I have not,” she confessed as she exhaled a clenched breath. Her ears once forward in attention draw back against her autumnal skull in repose. In truth, more pressing matters had assumed the forefront of her mind. Mainly what she intended to do in regards to the Vale, as well as her place within it. She hadn’t the time to consider to the teachings of another, especially when their initial encounter had been unkind. “I have kept to the mountains,” she continued as softly. “…as you have kept to the plains… except for now. Other than in memory of insult, our encounter has not crossed my mind.”

The woman's words were eloquent, which was something of an abnormality for lone wolves. Many of them were more bestial - or so he had encountered - and some didn't speak at all, with more emphasis on their body language. But the way in which the woman spoke did not catch him up too much, not like the words she used; specifically, when she lanced at him over the word insult. Her intention had probably not been to get prickly, but Njal felt a twinge of guilt stab at him when she spoke the word; he had not intended to insult her, but herd her away from lands that were unkind to strange entities. Of course, he was still in the dark about which lands truly belonged to Lethe and her ilk - Njal was under the assumption that his job had been done, and it had been done well.

His brow furrowed for a brief moment, but relented as he relaxed and watched her. The old version of him may have apologized, but not this one. Njal would not recant his behaviour; he was staunchly opposed to the very idea.

"I was enthusiastic," He commented next, with a small glance across the distant horizon. His voice lulled in it's strength the way a child might avoid a certain topic of conversation; he glossed over her comments and moved on.

"You move well on the mountain." Njal commended, with a brightness to his voice which hadn't been there a moment ago. It was true, though. The woman knew how to move in this strange place, and he felt he could improve her abilities if she truly wished it. "If you return to the creek lands, I could teach you. At least, to move on the plains."

But what were the chances of that, with the girl so firmly rooted to the world of the mountain? Not to mention his eagerness to drive her away the last time. His ears flattened upon his head at this thought, a brief hesitation, before standing to attention again.

“I have never seen enthusiasm resort to poking,” she countered pointedly with a raise of her muzzle. Playful pawing, even harmless goading perhaps, but never to the extent this male had taken his sport. It was borderline cruel how he had treated her that day. Perhaps not to her body, but to her ego… her soul. Such wounds were not easily mended even with time, as the knot of her brows and bristled tail conveyed. Then just as easily smoothed as he paid her a compliment. Nothing to cater to her feminine nature surely, but to address a fact that even the female knew well. She was a wolf of the mountain. If she could not dance upon it with ease, it would have been shameful. Yet his word did serve a purpose in reining in her expressive self and return her to a state of calm. Yet his offer however genuine form yet another skeptical crack in her placid visage. Return to the creek? Did this male take her for a fool? “Less teaching and more practice on a fool,” she accused him openly. “I am simple as a female, but not so that I would become prey to another… again.” Her digits splayed across her stone as she prepared to lunge from her stone. She had given the male a way down from the mountain. She needn’t stand there and give him the pleasure of accepting his trap…

“Less teaching and more practice on a fool,”

His ear twitched at this, hearing the accusation and allowing his brow to furrow once again. Njal even felt tempted to step along the path towards her, but he stopped himself before getting too close. She was no fool, what made her think so lowly of herself? Further comments only made the Russian further confused. He had known plenty of strong, capable women. From his old leader's wife, Skydancer, to the territorial and bestial woman, Siku of Tartok; they had met briefly, but in this moment Njal was able to reflect upon his past encounters. And then there was the indomitable Proudheart, who made his own heart heavy like stone. Something he needed to ignore - so he sought the golden woman as a distraction, and burst forth with his own verbose response.

"I have known many women, and you are no different. You are strong. Capable. Only a little slow." The man's shoulder rolled in a small shrug at this, not wanting to insult but not afraid to voice his concern over her burdensome movement upon the plains. However, if she wasn't interested in learning, he would not cajole her. "I see a strong warrior in you. Training is needed, of course, training is always needed. But I offer." A small nod of his head, and Njal fell silent. His voice fell away amongst the stones and he began to plot a course along the path. He was careful with his steps, regardless of how safe and secure the ridge may have been - keeping his eyes upon the woman while he moved by her, and then a bit beyond. When he turned again to regard her, it was to offer one last suggestion.

"If you change your mind, come to the river pack and ask for Njal."

He blinked, and then turned as if to leave, but waited in place for any response from the mountain woman.

Strong. Capable. Such qualities were not meant to describe a female, as well as she knew. There was only fertile and docile, aggressive if too casual with her comrades. The females were meant to be contained and sought only when to breed. There was no such thing as a strong female. Only one able to bear the pups of the pack. Yet her ears were attentive if not attracted to these simple words, especially when use in association to herself. Did he really believe this? Or was it simply a ploy to lure her into his terrain that he might embarrass her again on his favorable ground? It would not have been the first time gullibility won over sense. In a moment of silence, she watched him begin his careful walk along the path- her own eyes darting ahead of his footfalls ever so often to ensure his step was indeed a secure one. All the while in thought, she could have imagine herself as a warrior for anyone, even if her build would complement the suggestion. She was by no means small, but not as fat as she would have liked. The wanderer’s walk still kept her relatively slimmer though the fat that lingered was well kept in the places she deemed appropriate. Her bones had adapted to her heavy weight and her preferred gait through mountainous paths, making them stronger and more durable; ideal for enduring the brunt of a hostile. And yet, she still could not imagine herself as a warrior of any kind. Though the prospect of becoming- no, learning of this path had its appeal. If only to fulfill the innate want to find purpose. Apparently, all she needed was training. “The river pack…Njal” Her nose wrinkled in thought then turned toward the male to monitor his careful progress along the path. “I suppose I can remember that,” she remarked, somewhat calmer now her prior state of being. However there was a sharp glint her in her that remained; the flicker of warranted suspicion. Undeniably, she was enthralled by his ideal, but she was not keen on making herself a fool. Her ego had already suffered once before. Though she would try in her due time to let it go. Provided there was indeed truth to his words.

Xi'nuata held a view of herself that would have confused Njal beyond measure, had he been privy to her thoughts. To live in a world where women were essentially cattle, to be kept as prizes or bred for future sons, was appalling. He knew better; or he would have said so, given the chance. The crease of her face showed reluctance to his offer, and that brought the guilt within his heart to a flourishing burn once again. He should not have been so hard upon her - there were other methods that could have been utilized. But the man could not dwell upon it now; what was done, was done. Njal gave a small nod to her before turning, and promptly picking up his pace. His steps were more assured as he followed the curling path, faltering only a few times when his toes caught upon awkwardly placed stones or debris; but he stayed upright, and before long, vanished from her sight.

[exit njal!]