Whitefish River Oh, I'm a Maid, and I'm Pure and Fair--I'll Never Dance with a Hairy Bear!

Wasn't sure how well Quartz Cavern here in Whitefish territory would work for @Nunataq, but if a different setup in a different spot would be preferable or if you really want to start, let me know!  ;)  Otherwise, AW as labeled. Booga booga boooo.
Lyrics are from this nonsense.

The wind whistled eerily through the trees high, high above, and far down below their naked branches the moon peered down at a small brown and white form whose patchy fur gleamed at strange, intermittent intervals in the moon’s hazy light. Nynka paid the celestial body no mind as it drew a gauzy cloak of cloudcover across its face once more in modest withdrawal; she paused with a bright grimaced flash of teeth and gave her fur a quick shake as the wind dipped its fingers down to her level, however. She wasn’t a big fan of this weather, but had hoped to at least track herself down a rodent or three before the rain the damp air was promising came to pass. She wasn’t having much luck though as she raised her pointy little nose and sniffed the air again with her whiskers impatiently atwitch. Might be time to go find herself some cover before the storm broke.

Fortunately she was familiar with this area, and knew pretty exactly how long it would take to get out of the open and into some shelter, well before the waters came misting down more heavily from the sky. But she stopped dead in her tracks and stuck her nose inquiringly into the air once more as a sudden much stronger flash of scent came to her—but it was just another of those stupid wolves, nothing terribly interesting. Not the one that had confronted her hereabouts before, either, she didn’t think, but then again she couldn’t be bothered to keep all that close of track of the hairy drooling beasts’ scents. It wasn’t like she had a file catalog at home with cards neatly scented and labeled—and if she had, she’d’ve pitched the damn thing out into the cold, frankly, because who would want to waste the mental or physical space on a bunch of wolves. Nynka shrugged dismissively and turned for the ridge of rock that ran parallel to her path home once more, but then paused and turned back with a mischievous smile curling her whiskers high and bowed. Actually… actually, this might hold some promising entertainment. This canine’s scent put her more in mind of another foolish youngster all of a sudden, which meant that maybe it too might prove to be a worthy source of entertainment if Nynka played her cards right, here.

Swiftly the little weasel zipped her way up over a hump of rock and into the nearby caverns with their gleaming patches of strange shining white rock. Nynka hardly gave the glittering walls a second glance, however, opting instead to make a beeline for an object with a grin even wider and brighter than her own. Nynka leapt swiftly and agilely straight inside it, giving the giant cave bear’s skull a quick thump to check that it was indeed just as solid and immovable as it had been earlier in the year. Then she held herself still, even catching her breath for a moment. Her ears and nose twitched alertly in time with one another as she stayed tuned to the air inside for the first venturesome footsteps nearby, as best she could tell above the distant shrieking of the wind. As she heard a suspicious crunching of gravel she let her voice boom forth with the empty skull’s acoustics enhancing and reverberating its tones far beyond what she could normally manage:
Whoooo’s this here invading my sacred cavern home, ey? Awoooo-oooh-ooooh! Beware! Bewaaaare, little wolf! ...Oh yes. That worked pretty excellently. Nynka definitely liked this skull. It was such a pity she couldn't take it home with her.

@Maia - tagging for visibility and reference

If Wraen had been doubtful and a little afraid of, how she was going to manage life without the support of a pack during the autumn months, then with a few weeks experience under her belt, she could say that it was neither that bad, nor that scary. Maia's company, adventurous and cheerful spirit kept her older sister going and she greeted every new day with a smile and happy curiousity about, what great things would happen today.

Hunting was also an easier task now that they were two. Getting used to each other's movement and hammering out the best strategy was still a task in progress, but an old mountain goat that they had managed to bring down together was a good sign. They were doing things right. And - perhaps - with at least two friendly packs in the vicinity and some other lone wolves she had come across during her travels, they would be able to arrange a larger group hunt, if that was neccessary and there was such an opportunity. 

Wraen and Maia had split up in the evening to seek for the best place to spend the night. And it happened that, while following a trail left by a mustelid, she came to a large cavern. The moon had almost gone entirely in the Earth's shadow, therefore the beauty of the crystals that lined the cavern's walls, was hidden to the she-wolf. And it would have mattered to her little, even if she had seen it, because her mind was working on more practical matters. Right, when she had deemed the place good and safe to stay for the night, a spooky voice echoed in the cave and a white skull rattled not too far from, where she stood. 

"Who is there?" Wraen asked, feeling concerned about cave-dweller she could not yet see and recalling, how Kavik had mentioned encounters with bears in these territories.

The wolf-shape was rather larger and more intimidating than Nynka had anticipated, as it stepped into the cavern's entryway and stood there ominously silhouetted. There wasn't much more than a hazy sliver of moonlight left but it was enough to give an ethereal silvery outline to the canid's fur all along the edges, while leaving its whole front in murky darkness. A biggish wolf, yes... but still gullible, Nynka thought wickedly to herself as her whiskers curled gleefully upward even further with the wolf's voice echoing in her ears: Who is there?

It is I, boomed Nynka more than willingly. —the Great Bear Spirit of the Sacred Moonlit Shard Caverns! And I do not like rude tresssppaasseeerrrssss... Rrruuagh! She smothered the laugh that tried to bubble its way up out of her throat. Wouldn't do to wreck the whole thing right now, not when it was going so very swimmingly thus far. Not bad, if she did say so herself! Nynka held her breath a moment and waited eagerly for the stupid wolf's reply, little knowing that she knew this wolf fairly well already. The scent wafting in her direction niggled irritatingly at a corner of her brain, but she shoved it down in favor of concentrating on her bombastic theatrical performance—not now, not NOW! Come on, you idiotic creature, now take the bait.

"Good Lord," Wraen took an involuntary step back, when the inhabitant of the cave replied, the sound of it's voice changed, heightened and throwing weird echoes in the caverns. It was easy to believe that there truly was something supernatural living here and that the best course of action would be taking it's advice and getting lost. However, Wraen's pragmatic side of mind kicked in, reminding her that, even though she enjoyed stories that dealt with magical creatures, it did not necessarily made them real. That it was more likely that she saw and heard, what she wanted to see and hear. Not more, not less.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, pushed all fear and concern in a closet that was located somewhere in her mind palace and opened her eyes to look at the whole situation with clear and rational mind. First she let her gaze travel across the walls and ceiling of the cave and found nothing extraordinary there. The conclusion of this thorough inspection was that the source of the sound was located somewhere on the ground. Her eyesight in the dark was not at it's best, therefore she leaned her head down and began to explore the floor by sniffing and feeling it with her whiskers, slowly making progress towards the skull, where the little rascal was hidden.  

She soon realized that checking the facts had been the right decision, because she her brain recognized the particular scent of a mustelid, fresh and pungent. Among the sand and rocks that carried to particular odour at all, this one stood out like a beacon in a dark night. As she came closer, she sensed the warmth of a living creature in the vicinity and finally she found the whitened skull, where the animal was hiding. Here she stopped and pawed at the bone, in order to turn it over and uncover the little ghost inside.

The wolf was nervous. Nynka could see it in the way that the beast halted there, daring to venture no further and even taking a hesitant step back as uncertain expressions flitted across the furry face. The hesitance didn't seem quite so dramatic as Nynka had hoped, nor all that likely to last long... so the weasel seized the advantage of the moment where she could.

Well, what have you to say for yourself, interloper?! she bellowed in her very best giant murderous bear spirit voice imitation... which coming from her tiny lungs was generally not very good, and even with the kind assistance of the big thick yellowed skull with its oversized canines half-buried in the dirt and its arching echo-chamber of an empty braincase arcing a fair distance above her head (relatively speaking) the imitation was... well. Merely passable, probably, at best, to a wolf in a skeptical and overly-inquisitive state of mind in particular. Nynka hoped the atmosphere of the really rather dark and gloomy night with its fitful spatters of hissing and misting rain and chill and unwelcoming temperature might help a weasel out a little, here... pretty pretty please?

No such luck. The stupid wolf just wasn't in the mood to cooperate, it seemed, for despite the atmospheric assistance of this gloomy and forlorn night the canine picked up its courage in its teeth and ventured forth once more before more than a few breaths had passed, cautious and yet interrogatory in her movements. Aw shoot, the jig was up, wasn't it. But Nynka wasn't ready to go down without a fight. How dare you so profane this ground, you insufferable bitc— and then Wraen's paw was scooting right towards her. The skull was big and heavy and had sat there cementing itself into the earth where it lay for quite a long time, with none who had managed... or dared perhaps... to budge its toothy and shining from where it so long lay viciously leering up at them. Nynka had tried, but her legs and body were small and spindly and not in fact at all up to the task which she'd tried to set them. The other wolf who had tried had only jammed the thing in even deeper when her skull had connected with the long-lost bear's. But with the right leverage, it turned out, it... really wasn't very hard to shove the thing aside after all, to roll it straight off Nynka's outraged form even as she puffed up her spine and fur and darted forth in a bouncily hissing offended outrage. How dare, how dare you, you, you... you... Her fury lost its head of steam almost as quickly as it had built; her mottled brown and white fur sleeked itself back down, her back slumped gracefully back down to earth as if it had never left at all, and the ferocious gleam sparking deep within her black eyes winked out as if it had never been, as it dawned on Nynka all of a sudden just why this scent had been bugging her.

Oh, hi, Wraen, she said, in a quite ordinary and conversational tone of voice, just as if she hadn't been ready to threaten her with fire and brimstone and sharp-toothed torments that only the most terrible of wolfish nightmares could begin to conjure. I didn't recognize you there at first. How are you doing? And— an avaricious gleam came into Nynka's beady little eyes. —And you move this large skull around surprisingly well, I see. Much better than the last wolf who came in here and tried, at least, that's for certain! A flash of much brighter whiter teeth in the cavern's growing gloom, as Nynka grinned fiercely up at Wraen in perfect amused friendliness and even somewhat proprietary pride—apparently the little weasel was convinced she'd delivered a pretty awesome compliment to her most favoritest wolf in the whole wide world, here, and fully expected the canine would feel exactly the same. Who didn't spend their days craving lackadaisical and self-centered weaselish approbations, after all, amirait?

Wraen's suspicions about the source of the ghostly cries and bellows were correct. The skull kept screaming at her, even as she managed to push it over and recover a... familiar weaselish face. In fact, the only weasel she knew, who tended to speak a lot and at length, showing utter contempt for people, who were taller, bigger and stronger than her and who could gulp her down in two takes, were they up for it. But talking mustelids weren't easy to find and Wraen could bet that Nynka had survived this far just because anyone, who had considered her as a potential meal, decided not to risk it. It could be that the little, spirited animal would continue kicking and screaming profanities inside stomach, not to mention the pain of upset digestive system and other health problems. And it was more than likely that she would still rise from the grave and continue to haunt the one, who had eaten her as a vengeful spirit.

To sum it up - it was not wise to imagine Nynka as good choice for lunch - and all in all Wraen was quite glad to meet the little critter again. "I have to admit that you had me there for a moment," she greeted the resident ghost of the caverns, sat down, curling her tail around her forepaws. "Good job, really - a skull, a loud voice, ominous speech, the echoes - you have learned the ghost-craft," she praised, because she enjoyed seeing the already conceited creature, inflate even more with pride. It was amusing, not that she would reveal this to anyone. "What happened to the last wolf? Did he suffer a heart-attack and you ate him?" she asked, expecting not to be surprised, in case this assumption turned out to be true.

homg, LOL. ...I may yet have to draw a little comic of Nynka inside some poor wolf's belly cussing them out, now.  XD  That image is just too great!
Also might help in taking the little twerp down a peg or two, ppfffft.    Not that she is demonstrating the need for that here. Not at all.

Pfhah! said Nynka proudly, as she puffed out her chest and fur in an arrogant, self-preening increase of her size. Now she was a fluffy noodle twice her tiny size next to all these big galumphing wolves: impressive, yes, wasn't it. Didn't they all just wish they could be just like her, or at least half as awesome. Keep those weaselly compliments comin', wolf-girl!

Nynka gave a disdainful, dismissive little twitch of her whiskers at Wraen's inquiry about her fellow wolf, however. Oh, no, nothing nearly so useful, she said flippantly, but also quite honestly. For once the little beast didn't have to invent her stories entirely out of whole cloth. That moron thought she could come charging right at me, and ended up braining herself on this skull full-on... the idiot! It didn't even have to move to get her, at all: she came directly into it, full-speed. Skulls colliding at speed: it sounded like thick-boned thunder. ...Sorry Wraen, but your species is just not that bright. Breezing right past the likely implied insult to the wolf called Wraen as well as the rest of them—although as a matter of fact Nynka did genuinely consider Wraen to be the brightest and most useful of her kind thus far, by far (with the two measures of caninekind being much one and the same, in her weaselly little brain)—why, she'd hardly had to invent a thing. At this rate she had better be careful or she would dull or lose entirely her carefully-cultivated liar's touch, ey?

In the meantime even one so sharp as Nynka herself was finding that actually, she wasn't even entirely sure what this whole "ghost-craft" thing might actually consist of. ...Which only made it all the more amazingly brilliant that she was such a surpassing expert at it now, though, didn't it. Still, this idea and craftsmanship would bear a more close examination later, to which effect she made a mental note to herself; the possibilities and pitfalls definitely seemed something worth exploring. Especially if, just as Nynka had hoped once she realized Wraen's clever paws and strength were capable of budging the thing, at least when she crooked it all up at just the right angle, the little weasel just might now be able to acquire her most favorite of props to help assist her in future poltergeist-filled endeavors.

  You're certainly much better at sweet-talking that skull into budging that that other wolf ever was though, noted Nynka somewhat over-sweetly herself. Probably even good enough to carry it out of here for me, don't you think? Goodness knows it wasn't like Wraen could possibly have anything better to do with her time and energy. No, in fact, she'd probably been sitting around bewailing the lack of a smart little Nynka beast to order her around and tell her what to do since their last meeting, hadn't she. The poor wolf! This weasel had better make sure she didn't suffer like that again. In, you know, the self-effacing spirit of goodwill and all purely out of the kindness of her heart. Wraen should feel so lucky to have such a thoughtful and giving little friend, shouldn't she.

I think you fit the whole NaWoWriMos word count in that post. Nynka is amazing.

"Oh, I definitely agree. Some are truly disgrace to their species. And especially those, who use their heads to literally deal with problems, not think with them. By whole and large this is the silliest thing I have ever heard a wolf doing," Wraen let the insult slide and pretended to wholly agree with this, just to see the mustelid gloat more. She was probably imagining this, but one more praise and Nynka would go "poof" like a white furry balloon. 

And she would not be a story-teller for nothing, if she did not try to put more wood to the fire, to see it burn brighter and stronger, and remodel the insult into a compliment: "I think that same can be said about weasels too. I mean, you are the first truly intelligent and smart specimen I have met so far." 

Wraen was not dumb and caught the moment, when the sly little thing offered her to do something out of goodness of her heart and feel grateful for it to Nynka. She had to hold back laughter, because the more absurd the situation went, the more hilarious it got. There was a tiny prick of guilty conscience for making her conversation partner believe that she was taking seriously every verbal ramble that was aimed at her, while Wraen was simply messing around.

But she asked for it. And she would never believe, if I told her my true intentions, would she? With this reasoning in mind, she gave Nynka the sweetest smile and asked kindly: "Where do you want me to carry it? I mean - you want me to leave the skull by the cave entrance or take it somewhere special?"

Homg I love Wraen, lol. It's always so great to see her at work  ;D  It's only just now occurred to me that she may be the wolf singly most responsible for Talos's and Nynka's collective egos to soon grow large enough to block out the sun.
And sheesh, not even close... you should see Jess's posts this month, likewhoa!  X) 

Wraen's imagination probably wasn't that far off: it seemed physically impossible for an ego so large to fit into so small a fuzzy noodle of a body, as Nynka's chest and ribcage swelled out another breath further yet in outpuffed pride, to go right along with her more-metaphorically ever-swelling head. She lapped the praise up more quickly and eagerly than the blood of a freshly-killed mouse, and it doubtless sustained her just as much as the latter, too. Without that overweening weaselly pride there wouldn't be a whole lot left to little Nynka after all, would there. Surely at any moment she might explode and get slimy weasel ego all over everything.

Nynka shook her head sympathetically not just at the foolishness of the other wolf she'd met from within this skull, but at the plight of all those poor stupid wolves out there... So very many of them, and with so little in the way of brains to spare between them. It was tragic, really. And Wraen was so fortunate to not be numbered among them, and to have instead gotten the lion's share of not just intelligence but also usefulness, talent, and sheer awesomeness. Of this Nynka was quite firmly sure. Still— How many weasels have you met? Nynka wondered aloud. Oh, never mind. It really didn't matter all that much to her, not when she had more important projects afoot that she was holding in mind. Just so long as none of those other, oh-so-much dumber weasels were trying to muscle in on her territory and her most favorite slave wolf here.

I need you to get that skull over to my burrow for me! said Nynka with ill-concealed glee. It was only a few territories away, after all, only up and down a few intervening mountains, as perhaps Wraen would remember if she knew how to get there from here—not that Nynka would really have felt much hesitation in ordering her all the way across an entire map or continent if necessary, either, to be fair. ...Or at least out as far as Northstar Vale. Yes? The skull was a bulky, heavy, awkward thing after all, and might prove quite difficult to carry very far... which wasn't that much of a concern for Nynka, except that it occurred to her rather suddenly that she did want to make sure she didn't break her pet wolf, here. She might need her again in the future to haul other things to and fro, after all, or order about on other random errands.

I feel as if Wraen is a devil in disguise, walking among people and giving a helping hand at corrupting them. Checked Jess's posts - Oh, sweet love of all holy and sacred... :)

It would not have hurt for Nynka to tell those praises out loud - Wraen was no different from other people and she would have enjoyed immensely being called very intelligent, useful, full of talents and awesome. Even if it came from an animal that was one tenth of her size (that's net weight without the heavy lead package of pride and ego). It was difficult for her to read the weasel's black bead eyes or expressions for information, but her manner of speaking, when she addressed her, told her everything she needed to know. 

It was a good thing that Nynka did not really want to find out, how many weasels Wraen had met personally. Because naming the number would not be a problem, rather, how many of them had ended up on her lunch or dinner plate, when nothing better had been up for offer. The meat of other predators did not taste as good. Though it did occur to the weasel-proclaimed bright mind of the generation of the wolf-kind to find out, what would the little Napoleon have to say about gastronomic details of mustelids, she did not want to scare her away. Or... rather experience the wrath of the crazy person.

Her request sounded like a simple one, but something about "it's too good to be true" refrained her from agreeing right away. There had to be a catch. After all last time Wraen had met this person, it had tried to drag a deer leg twice the size of her across a field and shove it inside a mouse-hole. As mentioned earlier, she did not consider Nynka very sane, which was also a reason, why she liked her and kept toying with her. But there had to be some limits. Northstar vale? Wraen's eyes widened and she looked down at the weasel in surprise. She realized now that the first time she had met the weasel in an entirely different location, miles away from here. In a different part of the wilds entirely. "Mind, if I ask you, how did you get here in the first place? You did not fly, did you?" she asked.

That is so the best description of any wolf personality I've heard in...sheesh, possibly forever  XD  I feel like Wraen legit deserves an honorary additional trade badge for this brilliance.  LOL
I apologize if this post ended up with too much random feverish-brained 4-am-nonsense contained within.  ;P  I think it's at leas tmostly readable...hopefully. lol.  <.<;

Nynka's initial estimates of this particular wolf's intelligence took a sudden and unexpected drop. The little weasel rolled her eyes. No, I didn't fly— I bounced, like any sane creature would! Sheesh! She accompanied this with a couple quick little sidesteps of the arc-backed funny little sideways jitter that weasels did indeed tend to use to navigate... and Nynka, naturally, did not at all understand why every living creature on the planet wouldn't use such a perfect and infallible mode of locomotion. It was just another of those canine peccadillos that showed so painfully clearly their complete inferiority to all musteline-kind, wasn't it.

Truth be told, Nynka was a little put out too that her most favoritest wolf in the whole wide world did not immediately and unquestioningly accede to her demands orders quite-perfectly-reasonable requests. But, well, shoot—was this lovely pet wolf of hers up to hauling that big thick bear skull that hugely far? Nynka cast a beady eye up and down Wraen's form appraisingly. How much of that was muscle and sinew under all that fluffy gray fur, and how much of it was fat the beast had packed on for the winter? Wraen wasn't preparing to hibernate, was she—no, no, surely that couldn't be why she seemed to just maybe possibly be stalling just a little here... Wraen couldn't be dodging Nynka's question entirely, surely, now could she. Hmmmm, said Nynka aloud, flipping her tail back and forth a few times in thought. ... Well. Just carry it away in that direction, yes, perhaps...? and if you feel yourself starting to get tired and falter let me know, right away. It would have to be Nynka and her sharp little weaselly brain that would need to make the call to save this wolf from herself and her overwillingness to help good little mustelines, after all, now wouldn't it. Naturally Nynka couldn't just trust Wraen herself to make such an important decision without lots of help and input from Nynka herself after all, now could she. ...This did not seem like an entirely satisfying resolution to this little dilemma, in Nynka's head, but all the same it was the best plan she could come up with on short notice. She would just have to watch very closely to make sure Best Wolf here didn't overexert herself in her overzealous attempts to please her wise and all-knowing weasel master; didn't delay any reports of her growing feebleness and exhaustion in her desire not to fail her beloved little mistress Nynka, whose praise and approbation Wraen undoubtedly endlessly craved. Why wouldn't she, after all? All the smartest animals surely did, starting with humble little Nynka herself. Haha.

Wrapping this up, because I will be scarce for the next month or so and I would like to cut down the number of threads I am in. Nevertheless - I enjoyed this immensely!

"Sounds fair," Wraen shrugged, picked up the bear skull and set off in the direction Nynka had pointed out. She got pretty far with couple of rest stops along the way, because the particular object was not that handy to be carried around easily. There were moments, where it almost slipped from her grip and only by the awesome agility and ellegance of her companion, did it not get crushed under it's prized possession.

Once the skull was, where her mustelid friend had wanted it to be, Wraen bid the little thing a farewell and set off to meet her sister. Now this would be a hilarious tale to retell. And, if the little, cheeky thing with an ego of an elephant did not meet it's end in the near future, she looked forward to introducing her to Maia.