Dragoncrest Cliffs without the bad, the good disappears

@Melchior or anyone. Helping out with a merc thread! Set after her (presumed) acceptance.

First order of business after she woke from restful slumber was mapping out the patrol paths, and rendevouz sites of the territory. Breakfast was included somewhere in that list but, as she thrust her forelegs out and splayed her toes in a back-popping stretch, she decided to cross that bridge when she reached it. Tirgatao lashed her tongue across her jowls to clean the crusted drool before setting out from the damp, warm hollow she'd borrowed for her temporary den. 

Her strides devoured the furlongs, and mirrored the tracks that foretold of other diligent members of the Dragedakru who often passed this way. A part of her hoped she might encounter another so they might impart their knowledge of recent happenings to her. It wasn't in her nature to ask too many questions, and so hadn't pressured Eske further during their discussion. She passed like a mist beneath the snowy boughs of the great redwoods, ears cupped, and eyes fixated on the features of the coastal woodland.

Despite his appreciation for the gentle lull of sea sounds at night, Melchior had found it hard to find sleep, and so instead of laying uselessly next to his brother, he opted set out, getting to his daily task far earlier than normal. By the time morning had rolled in, thick beams of sunlight warming the chilled air, Melchior had already finish a patrol, and was in the middle of hunting some small game to help replenish the cahces. He had very little luck until he had happened upon a grouse scratching and pecking along the forest-side edge of Drageda's territory. Catching it was no great effort, for they were incredibly stupid to begin with, and the one he had caught seemed especially slow. It was a wonder it had made it past hatchling-hood, although it was rather disappointing in size. With a mouth full of feathers, he gathered the pitiful foul, and set off to return it to storage.

At this point, he was vulnerable, although it was not much of an issue within the pack's boundaries. His nose was filled with the scent of fresh kill, vision partially obscured by wayward feathers, so he did not notice that he was about to intercept a packmate. When he did across in front of her, he gave a small start, before stopping, and turning to acknowledge her. He gave a sheepish nod, and lingered for a moment, just in case she had something to say.

Mica said they might know each other so I'm rolling with it, haha

A strangled cry from a gamebird was abruptly cut short mid-screech. She stopped, inky nose flared and one paw raised as she scanned the woodlands for the source. All nerves were ignited as she listened to what could either be another predator, a pack mate, or an incredibly stupid bird. The silence that followed was unnerving but she continued with a fair bit of trepdiation in her step, until the rustling of the undergrowth ahead revealed the welcome face of another wolf. Thankfully, he smelled of Drageda and, perhaps as a bonus, carried the grouse in his jaws.

The ash-kissed woman breathed a sigh of relief and offered the yearling a smile. He was familiar to her; perhaps one of the males who'd struck out not a week before her own departure? "You're... Melchior, right?" she asked with a subtle cant of her head. "You left Seageda with your brother, the thick-boned boy? Ar..." Tirgatao trailed off, hoping the other might pick up and finish her incomplete train of thought.

Melchior nodded, his grin widening despite the carcass that filled his mouth. @Arlo. He nodded, pleased that she had remembered. Lowering his head, he tenderly dropped the grouse to the ground, licking his chops to slyly savour the taste. "And you're Tirgatao." He continued brightly, remembering the pale furred wolf from his previous home, pleased to see that more had followed.

She was older than him, and so they had very little interaction prior. As it was, yearlings either trained with each other, or with their mentors, as not to hinder the growth of more capable warriors. But Melchior was feeling rather bold this morning, perhaps pleased with himself for catching something. "Are you well enough this morning for a quick spar?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming mischievously.

If you win, I'll give you this grouse. If you lose, I'll only give you half. He spoke clearly, using the common tongue to enunciate each word. It was truly a tempting offer, with no poor outcome for his packmate. Furthermore, if he won, it would mean that he would be able to eat fresh meat, instead of scrounging for the oldest scraps at the back of the cache. The very thought was enough to set his tail wagging!

"Arlo, that's right." she repeated with a kind smile, nodding when he named her in turn. The scent of iron in the air had awakened her hunger and, as if on queue, her stomach rumbled. If she were any other wolf, she would have likely asked what he intended to do with his catch, and if he might be apt to share if it wasn't for the young or the infirm. But she was too proud, and not in the habit of making others uncomfortable.

She was glad to see him. In truth, she'd worried that the both of them had become lost upon finding the mountain where Drageda lived previously in ruin. They were not her children, nor were they even related; hardly friends even, but they were family. A "warmth of emotion bubbled in her chest and she grinned at the yearling's proposition, her own tail lifting to swing merrily behind her. "I should hope so! Are you?" she joked with a bright laugh, a mirthful gleam in her eyes.

gonna wrap this up since he's on PPC status

Melchior struck first, but she was able to avoid his teeth by slamming her shoulders into his nose to deflect the blow. She retaliated immediately, reaching out to rake his side with her forepaw, but he sidesteps away with ease. Tir laughs, feeling the joy and exhiliration of combat rushing to her head; while she was the Shouna, she still relished in going toe-to-toe in friendly spars with her packmates. He drives in again, but she is too quick and experienced—her attacking paw hits the dirt, and surges past it. She can feel the hot air of his breath as it billows across her neck. Immediately she whirls and shoves into him, catching him off balance. He tries desperately to right himself, and his teeth pinch into her shoulder. Not enough to damage, but enought to sting. Tirgatao rears up and catches his scruff in her teeth, bowling him over onto his side and pinning him. The game is won. 

She grins and noses his chin before drawing away and letting him stand. Tirgatao strides over and retrieves her prize, but returns to Melchior and extends her neck, offering it to him. "The prize was the spar. Thank you, Melchior."