Bearclaw Valley djinn

it was quite early still when stigmata set out to find what he could of the ungulate herds within bearclaw valley. it was cool for now and he hoped to be finished by the time the heat of high noon rolled in. though the season wouldn't be turning for weeks yet, and winter was further away still, the tactician thought now was a good time to start preparing -- start shepherding if they needed to. coming from a rather large pack, this kind of forward-thinking had been instilled in him from a young age.

he wanted to secure this pack's future as much as their present, and in search of busy work, the savant began to task himself with finding out more for himself about this fishbowl's generational sustainability.

HERE 2 HELP (fudge shit up) also wtf how did this get so long??

indra hadn't seen much of stigmata, but he had not been absent: she had noted his scent at several intersections, rocks, and trees - and on more than one occasion had come across a cache she assumed had been made by his hand. she had decided, in light of him offering her (and her cub) a weasel, that she might care to get to know more about him. bearclaw was small, but by no means were its inhabitants isolated - and if a wolf was to become part of bearclaw's ranks, it by default became part of the family.

provided, of course, it didn't make many waves.

indra was not sure if stigmata was the type to disturb tranquility. her assessment of him was that he was perhaps a more complex beast than his imposing presence lead on. she still regarded him warily, the way one might study a strange subject that they knew could be dangerous. yet the redleaf kept her reservations to herself as she came across bearclaw's newest resident, who by now had been in their fold several weeks without departing. she found that a good sign in itself, for often wolves came and went of their own accord, without much a care for the realm that shielded them and offered them sustenance.

stigmata seemed busy as indra prowled up to him. a precursory gaze did not explain much, except perhaps he was looking for something. seeking his gaze for but a fleeting second, indra paused and seemed to silently ask what are you doing?

stigmata twitched a dusky ear to herald his awareness of the other's approach. he slipped like silk into a steeled posture, stilling himself mid-step until a cunning swathe of russet had entered his peripheral. with a stiff turn of his long nose, the dark wolf set a charged silver eye upon indra -- the alert. the omnipotent. almost nothing occurred here without a sliver of her tucked in somewhere, and much to his lingering chagrin, she served both as   door and key in this one astounding conundrum he had found himself in.

he tucked his chin and dropped his gaze.

"putting an eye on the herds today," he replied without verbal cue. "see who is weak and how many are young -- start keeping stock for the snows and keep their traveling eastward," he seemed like he could have listed a thousand reasons why he thought this task was necessary, but he stopped short so that he might cant his head at the autumn naiad. "did you need something?"

as the russet woman pulled up alongside her grey-splattered packmate, he folded himself into a bowed stance. such humility pleased indra, who knew full well how often wolves hated to deign to their superiors, herself included. her posture seemed to stiffen and then slacken, as if his mannerisms had earned her unexpected approval. she could get used to this, she thought wryly - provided she didn't let it get to her head.

she flicked her gaze out to the winding forest, where trees sat brooding in the gloom and occasionally a rustle of leaf moved their upturned boughs. indra had hunted many times in that shaded bosk, yet not all of her pursuits had been fruitful. turning away from the distant boles, indra spoke. "i don't need something, though i would accompany you if you allowed it. i have not turned my attention to the herd in many moons." granted, she had a perfectly valid excuse -- one she would not utter to the male that had been disappointed to see her post-puppy body.

she thought a moment about the last time she had stood on this ridge; blondine had been alongside her. the southern woman's absence was still keenly felt. "there is a black doe though. do not kill her." indra's voice was firm, suggesting she would not elaborate.

"very well," he answered softly -- as much as his sonorous voice would allow -- and he resumed along the tracks of a rogue deer, hoping to follow it to a herd. though he made no accommodations for her presence, indra, light and sharp, took up after him as requested. he might've forgotten her in the padding of his own steps, but she saw fit to warn him from hunting an unfortunately colored doe.

stigmata looked amused, in a battleweary sort of way. "sentimental, are we?" the heretic asked, his tone making it difficult to decide whether or not he was asking as a joke. he glanced at her, seemingly curiously, as they descended through the brush and tread-worn thistles into a low part of the valley once occupied -- a night or two ago -- by a small gathering of deer.

the two descended a stair of stone and dew-studded grass, passing through the eaves of a grey willow that sat quietly with its long tendrils draping the forest floor. beyond the weeping face of the willow thistle and briar clambered for presence; they passed the snares of heather where the valley collected into a rarely disturbed depression that had been carved by the uncomprehending hands of glaciers melted long ago.

indra had remained silent during this time, pausing only to inspect the trail, partly faded in the grass. her expression was that of one contemplating. at last she spoke: "not sentimental. a trial." she skipped over mention of blondine. "to see if she foals black fawns in the spring."

a trial, she corrected him, and stigmata lifted his nose from a gritty hoofprint in the ground to fix her with an interested stare. but her succinct explanation gave him pause for only a moment; he seemed to consider it, then dismiss it a moment later -- the widower returned to the dirt, and drifted along some upturned pockets of earth as he said: "and what, may i ask, is the value of an unfortunately colored deer, if not sentimental?" 

his focus narrowed in on a part of the narrow valley bowl where tread-lines had grown thick, and the flora had been shoved a way awkward to how it had grown -- the origin of their chosen herd's migration. stigmata prowled up the trail and slipped like a bird's shadow into the trees.

the redleaf hovered, still as stigmata browsed from hoofprint to the broken blades of grass. she was studying the murky copse, rendered inscrutable by distance. a fog collected around the feet of each imposing bole, and moved with silent purpose across the land.

"black fawns are easier seen than bay.. or brown." she struck off after the ashen figure, her nose trailing the nearly invisible scuff-marks with care. as they traveled she believed the scent grew more... persistent; at length she drew to a pause and flickered an ear carefully, scrutinizing the lock of tangled heather ahead with her glistening noise a-twitch.

"you say that as if we have the luxury of being the only predators who hunt fawns," he growled, barely keeping tabs on the sound of his annoyance. "you are wasting resources dictating the preservation of a single, undesirable and making it easier for our competition in the process." that was the damn problem with these young wolves, too worried about how things looked and not how they worked -- though, in part, his resentment towards young leaders seemed to stem from being usurped by a male her age.

but in truth it was his experience that made him biased, and in stigmata's time, young wolves had the vigor, but not the foresight, to lead a pack. he thought it took at least three winters and a fourth summer to truly understand all the compartments of leadership, and it drove him mad to be directed by the youth; especially in a way he deemed illogical. the poor, opinionated peon. he stopped thinking of all this suddenly when they had come to a break in the trees that heralded the  gentle lip of a small bowl in the valley -- a wide open space where a thin herd of deer grazed and milled about watchfully.

a sharp tone had entered stigmata's voice, and indra turned an ear and a disapproving gaze towards it's author. she felt herself rise in defense, a raze of fur along her backside prickled. for a moment it looked as if indra's anger had uncollected her, but she drew a steady breath and spoke: "they don't leave this valley. look at the walls around us; do you see them climbing out?"

it was then her gaze drew to the herd milling about; she would have this conversation no longer. he might be her superior in more ways than indra was willing to admit, but she did not need to subject herself to being lectured. with a smooth flick of what should have been her tail she slid from him and prowled through the grass, her gaze trained on the slim silhouette of a yearling milling between a pair of tall tussocks of timothy grass.

"therein lies your issue," the embittered hunter hissed, prepared to argue still, but indra's distraction from the subject and reactive steeliness towards it silenced stigmata on the matter. he was being too passionate; too forceful. he could better explain without the duress he felt about it - and the only way he could possibly hope to soothe the disquiet he felt in bearclaw was to find a solution to the problem before presenting the argument. the black doe was irrelevant, as far as he was concerned, and only a symptom of the bigger issue he had concerned himself with: the generational sustainability of a valley armed with but a single entrance.

he turned his mind off to the noise of his ambitions, instead casting his gaze out over the stilled herd with only mild interest. there was plenty there beneath him - and everything in general seemed so bountiful - but for how long? how high did the snows get here during the cold months; could they be snowed in? would the herds get irreparably thinned before the snowmelt? the task of attracting more deer here if numbers got low seemed more trouble than it was worth... stigmata, simply put, couldn't be satisfied with these thoughts until he was aware of and could reasonably predict the form of all angles.

he watched the red-spear of a she-wolf disappear into the tall grass, both marveling after her and irritated, and he hesitated to follow. though hunting had been his original intent, actually going for a kill had not; he didn't know if he felt like expending the energy. but in the end, this seemed to be a task better suited to him than worrying, so the world-weary wraith followed indra numbly and silent except for a small huff.

in indra's eyes the distraction was welcome; she had neither the patience nor the fortitude to entertain stigmata's annoyance with the issue -- whatever the issue was -- indra, younger than most in her position, had just enough life experience to make herself confident in her station, but not enough that she could fend herself from the male's stalwart position without rising to anger.

in other words, she would be a terrible debate partner.

the deer had yet to notice her, and stigmata had yet to follow her. she rolled her shoulders, unwilling to look back at the contrary male - if he didn't follow, she would just hunter herself -- however much of a fool's errand it was. it was unlikely the redleaf could fell a doe on her own, but her own stubbornness (and heated annoyance in light of their mild spat) drove her to hunt anyway.

to hell with men, who thought they knew everything. indra slithered through the grass, her gaze locked on a hind not too far from where she was. a huff announced that stigmata had indeed followed her, and if indra looked back she might have noticed it was with great reluctance. her eyes were trained on the prize, but her frustrations meted an unsteady hand and she lunged too soon; the doe spun quick on her heels and fled, her motions alerting the rest of the herd which sprung eastward in a pattering stampede.

stigmata wasn't at all expecting indra's folly - this time and place a far different affair from their first encounter that had stitched them together so seamlessly. the hunter stutter-stepped and launched himself into a flabbergasted chase he quickly forfeited. stiff and now visibly upended, stigmata turned a grizzled, ominous stare on the redleaf beta.

if there was a challenge there, it was hidden behind the blinding high-beams of his disapproval and frustration. she made him want to show her who was in control, but stigmata was never so tactless. he snorted - a sound of pure derision for her carelessness - and then turned wordlessly on his heel to follow the herd without the inkling of an invitation in his steps.

a rueful expression delved deep across indra's countenance as she watched the product of her failure: deer gone, and nothing but the slow settle of dust left in their wake.

a crunch underfoot told her stigmata was still moving. she turned an ear to the male, who by now had slunk past. she did not miss the disgusted snort; how it taunted her, and cut deeper than the quick sting of her failure. she wanted to hotly jog after him and give him a piece of what's-for for being so god-damned righteous and haughty, but as she caught herself thinking such heated things she realized it would accomplish little.

arguably as obstinate as stigmata, indra uttered her own snort in response and quickly set in the opposite direction at a very deliberate saunter.