Bearclaw Valley lockbox

For @Tvar!

No more laying around. No more waiting.

If Athella wanted to make any headway on her training, then she might as well start now. She may lack formal experience, but she did have several advantages already. Three sisters with whom she had grown up practicing. Knife edge instincts and unwavering focus. Strong genetics. And hours spent on patrol with either of her parents.

Coming into her own, all of this meant nothing if she failed to step up. Taking matters into her own paws, just hours after the sun had risen, she set off through the snow laden valley. A dark, lone figure in a pack of many. She skirted to the borders and began her patrol. Laying down her scent with others of the pack. Refreshing where the scent faded. Letting all know in no uncertain terms, that this was Bearclaw's land.

this girl carries the same resolve that seems to course through the wolves of bearclaw. he observes her for a moment longer, noting the precision of her steps and the way she marks the territory with intent.

without hesitation, tvar moves to join her. his black paws crunch softly against the snow, his tall frame blending with the shadows of the treeline as he approaches. she’s young, younger than most he’s patrolled alongside—thus, leading him to the assumption that she must be one of ancelin and ameline's whelps.

'course, it helps she resembles her mother.

when he’s close enough, he chuffs softly, not intent on spooking the girl. you’re making quick work of this.

A smaller version of her mother, Athella shared her intensity. Sooty paws that she was growing into scraped heartily through the snow to spread her scent. Her loosely held tail at spine level showed her confidence. If Tvar had at all been concerned about spooking her in his approach, that notion would be quickly tossed out the window.

She hummed lowly in a pleasant little way. "Hey thanks. Someone has gotta keep up on it." A diligent worker already. All she needed now was to be refined from that raw iron into a sculpted precision tool. 

Despite the radiating intensity that rolled off her in literal waves, Athella was still a kid. She whirled to face him, dropping down into a loose play bow. Looking up into hazel eyes quizzically. Testing the waters in this first, true formal meeting.

he allows himself a faint curl of his lips, not quite a smile, but enough to soften his typically stoic expression.

you’ve got a good start, he remarks, his voice low and even, though there’s an undertone of approval that he doesn’t bother to hide. he shifts slightly, the faint crunch of snow under his paws the only sound as he lowers his frame just enough to mirror her posture—not a full play bow, but enough to show he’s receptive to her energy, even if he isn’t the most playful of wolves.

but there’s more to patrols than scent marks, he adds after a beat, his hazel gaze meeting hers steadily. you’ve gotta keep your senses sharp. the borders aren’t just about keeping others out—they’re about protecting what’s inside. your family, your pack.