Dragoncrest Cliffs Tangie

After weeks of scouring the beaches for the coastal pack housing his kin, Shea at last came to the threshold of Sapphique. He could not be sure this was the place, as no part of the scented barrier carried the scent of his half-brother, but this was the first defined border he had come across in these sea-bedded lands; and if this pack held none of his blood, then maybe they could at least point him in the right direction.

The Beryl Forest wolf had no clue he was on the doorstep of a den full of agitated lionesses.

He howled for an audience, his unfamiliar voice cutting through the icy windscape with a courteous intonation. The sound died out just as the clear noon sky started to gather its clouds, preparing for a light snow.

The voice was unfamiliar, but deep enough for Chacal's ears to flatten when she heard it. She was being summoned by a man, to give him an audience. She pulled herself to her feet from where she had been resting near the Roja den, and felt her belly sag. There was pain in her lower back- and she knew from these signs that she would be whelping soon. 

It was the mark of an impressive woman who would carry out their duties this late in their pregnancy, so she carried on until she could see the stranger. He was a handsome fellow- and the scent of the ocean tangled into his pelt was an indication that he, too preferred life on the seaside- but that was not enough for her to forgive him for both his demands, and his gender. 

For a wolf who waited, quietly and patiently, they would have been rewarded with a kinder greeting- but as he had hurried her with a call, she approached with a calm, rangy stride, her tail curled above her back, and her canines revealed. She snapped her jaws together and moved forward, with the intention of either seeing him curl himself against the ground in a display of submission, or she would force him into it.

A crooked copper tail wagged low as the tall Amazonian approached. She seemed at first to merely carry herself in supreme confidence – obviously a leader of these shores given her stance and pregnancy – and Shea presumed he cut a respectful figure…

But this was not enough.

It would be strange to think that common courtesy and communication would not be welcome on these borders. As a scout who had learned not to loiter, lest he seem (at best) without purpose or (at worst) suspicious, Shea would not understand the reaction he received as the round-bellied she-wolf snapped at him, willing him into submission.

If he was not in need of answers, his response may have been more evasive, but as things stood, he kept himself steady: ears pulled back, head bowed, and posture tellingly relaxed. He did not go to the ground for the simple fact that he did not trust her not to harm him once he was prone. Ah’m nae danger, lassie, he insisted. Just lookin’ fir ma family.

He showed little sign of showing deference, aside from what might normally have sufficed. It was unfortunate for him to have come at such a time, not knowing what the pack had been through. Just months ago he likely would have been greeted with a woman who approached with charm- but Chacal eyed him for what he appeared to be, and found him lacking. 

It was her experience that men were prone to making excuses, first- and this one was no different. Her ears pricked momentarily at the sound of his accent- one she recognized. She felt the sudden urge to tear a strip of fur off him from the crown of his head and down to the base of his crooked tail so that she could mark him, as a representative of his kin, as a coward. 

She snarled. 

He was looking for his kin; she wished she could imprison him, hold him ransom for a debt that was owed. 

"If you be lookin' for Njord, 'tis true, 'e lived here-
but 'e fled, as cowards do,
when faced wid a bear dat he drew near,
an' it took de lives of two."

Grief darked her melody. 

"We are owed two lives."

Shea had not personally wronged this wolf, yet she looked at him with such searing disdain that he felt his skin prickle ominously, expecting the worst. He had no way of knowing that his blood had abandoned this lot, nor that an attempt to explain his presence here would be seen as an excuse for something nefarious or untoward.

He would have chalked the whole situation up to a surge of her protective hormones if not for the moody poem she provided by way of an explanation.

The coppertail’s ears flashed forward in surprise.

Njord? A coward?

It sounded nigh impossible. But what else would explain the vitriol in her voice and in her goldbar glare. He supposed the aggression was there even before he had spoken, but Shae was not one to speculate under duress. They had lost lives, too, which she had no reason to lie about. He shook his head, not wanting to believe it, and his frown ruffled the white mark upon his brow.

A Dhia, whit shan, he murmured, disturbed. Ma condolences tae ye an’ yers. He sincerely doubted it would mean much, especially coming from him, but he was an earnest wolf if nothing else.

Whether he could bring himself to believe her or not, however, the goldtouched wolf was successful with her words in making him think she had been made unreasonable by bereavement; speaking of lives as if they were property or a meal. He knew a threat when he heard one, and he had no intention of paying towards such a steep imaginary debt.

Ah will trouble ye no longer. He backed away, in case she had more to say but moreso because it was wiser not to give her angry stare his vulnerable backside, before he turned to quickly trot far from their borders, heading south.

He was much like his family in nature- honest, but not so weak in constitution as to grovel. An apology was all he could offer, and she watched him with a simmering gaze. The growl in her throat continued at a rolling boil. She was a dagger, sheathed only because to be drawn would mean spilling her own blood. He wouldn't know how lucky he was. 

He turned, and she spat in his direction as he left. Under her breath, she muttered a soft string of melodic curses; willing for nature to exact spite she herself could not, before she left a new, yellow marking in the snow and sauntered off toward the cliffs.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Njord’s relative was allowed to leave unscathed. Thank heavens.

But for miles after leaving Sapphique’s borders, Shea’s copper-branded ears would remain flattened atop his head, anchoring a whirlwind of thoughts and questions that he wished he could have asked the scarred she-wolf.

What about Njord’s family – his wife and children? Where were they? How had he drawn the bear to them? Surely it was not intentional. Did they know why he’d run? Was it due to the trauma of the war on Meares Island? Did they intend to hunt him? Did they intend to exact revenge?

All of these questions were selfish in nature, and none of them were anything he could have asked of the wounded pack. Not while the resentment was still so fresh in the leader’s mind, so clear in her eyes. He couldn’t even have helped them, as much as he would have liked to. Shea was not naïve enough to believe that they would want him, a brother to the betrayer, nor did he think he could mollify them without dropping dead at their paws.

Mind still locked in a conundrum, the wolf carried on, suffused with newfound worries. Having searched the beaches thoroughly beforehand, Shea knew he would not find Njord on the coast; he traveled inland to revive his search.