Thunder Dome motion gives up on you in the end

For @Stigmata! Takes place within Cantatis Cavern

He ran and ran from Blackfeather, until his legs gave out and he resorted to crawling his way up a mountain. He still bore the marks and gashes from that journey, for the rocky mountain's slopes were none too kind on weary wolves with thin fur. The worst injuries, however, were still the lacerations that traced his ribs and the decidedly ugly slash across his features. It only served to make him appear even more brooding and irate. Good, now the outside matched the inside.

He had holed up high in the mountain where the air held a strange electricity and the clouds overhead were forever dark and tumultuous. He liked it here. He had found a cave, a sort of haven amongst the rocks that was rich with trees and streams. He would have thought he had died at the summit and this was his heaven were it not for the pain that still shot through his sides and face, and the hunger that gnawed at his stomach.

For as pleasant as this hidden oasis was, prey was still scarce. Redshank had survived on small rodents and birds who had made the mistake of coming too close, but it wouldn't be long before they caught onto the predator — if he could even be called such a thing — living in the cave. For the moment, however, the boy was content picking his teeth with the bones of an unfortunate rat, curled up atop a sunlit rock, looking every bit a starved rat himself.

though not particularly fond of the barren dome scenery, stigmata had become aware of its advantageous innards, and he ventured them when he could - perhaps interested to keep the underwoods clear in case diaspora needed the storm shelter. the downside to this place was that large prey did not venture here often; though it seemed eerily flush with predators. he picked up his nose as the scent of another wolf was carried to him on an incoming draft.

he stood still, peering through the shadows and straining his ears forward, until he could see the thin, bedraggled snarler, picking clean the carcass of some terribly paltry meal. for winter, stigmata was particularly well-fed, and he took great pity on the earthy sub-adult who looked as if he hadn't had a full belly his entire life.

the smokewraith chuffed, beckoning the wolf's attention and impatient to discover the boy's temperament.

A soft chuff caught his attention, large ears swivelling towards the sound as Redshank paused his gnawing and looked up. The fur along his hackles bristled defensively, feeling somewhat possessive over this little sliver of paradise within the mountain — despite its many cons — though the display faltered as he caught sight of the intruder. Tall, large and cloaked in stormy greys, the man cut an intimidating figure. The boy's own ears fell, yet he still placed a paw over the rat's carcass as if it was something even worth protecting.

He eyed the stranger cautiously for a moment, before muttering a low and directed, "what?" His voice hoarse from disuse.

he was impressed by the young wolf's guarded spirit - for he had clearly been tangling for a while with adversity - and so he found no fault in the barbed response. the loner seemed to realize too that he was outclassed, and smartly appeared adverse to any trouble stigmata might have brought to his battered helm. whatever mistakes this wolf might have made in his past, it looked to the warhound like he was learning - albeit the hard way. that made him worth something, for the moment.

stigmata was also quite judgemental, and had - on several occasions before - changed his mind about someone almost instantaneously.

"easy, wolf. i do not want your.. meal," he dared call it, remaining afar and reclining on his haunches, as if to prove his words true. "i came to see if you were worth saving," he delivered cryptically, while busying himself nonchalantly with smoothing down the fur of his bearded chest.

The stranger had a commanding presence about him, as if he was carved from the tall, stormy Sunspire mountains themselves, yet seemed simultaneously aloof. But there was a keen flash to his deep silver eyes that Redshank avoided making direct contact with, his own gaze wary and reserved. He battled between the want to be left alone and the longing need for company, having stowed away in the remote cavern for far too long.

The stranger maintained his distance thankfully, and his casual reply and mannerisms caused the boy to drop his guard slightly. He gently turned the rat beneath his paw over, trying to mimic the blasé attitude of his company, though wasn't quite as successful.

Worth saving? It would be a lie to say he wasn't caught off guard by the statement, though Redshank quickly let out a soft, doubtful snort after the initial surprised prick of his ears. He let the silence linger for a moment, unsure how to respond, before offering a growling yet interested, "why?"

he was quiet - good, stigmata thought. it meant he was capable of non-reactionary thought, and it was a trait the warhound could foster and hone if given the chance. he returned his eyes to the young wolf's face, felt pleased that his gaze was not met, and then became further amused by the simplicity that ventured out of his mouth when he finally did speak.

why?

"i must admit i do not see much in you," he observed quite frankly; "but all wolves deserve at least a passing glance, if not a bit of consideration, no matter appearances." his gaze raked pointedly over the drab, reedy wolf, who could use a few solid meals and a staunch grooming. there was a lost luster to that brown, he was sure. "you have the same chance to impress me as all the others," stigmata continued, seeming rather indifferent. "and if you could manage to succeed, well... i am thoroughly - deathly - protective of the ones i deem worthy. of the ones that belong to me."

oh my god the song in Stig's user title ;____;
I just finished the game yesterdayyy

Redshank didn't react outwardly to the man's first statement — he was sure others thought similarly upon meeting him. He thought back to the white-furred corsair he had encountered months ago who had said the same (though his means of getting the boy to prove himself were much more...aggressive). No matter appearances. Redshank stole a glance at the stranger's tall, sturdy form once more with a barely stifled, bitter look. Easy for you to say.

He continue, pitching some sort of test. "The others?" he echoed, rising slightly from his perch. "You're building a pack?" Either that or a cult. He had heard this all before, but the man was interesting enough that he caught the Cairn's attention. Not that he had much of choice now with winter in full swing, however. It was either play along and see where this went, or simply rot away up in these mountains.

OMG, WASN'T THAT RIDE BACK DURING THIS SONG JUST SO HEAVY OMG

"i have a pack," he corrected. "we have not yet the numbers to stand against most others, but we are vagrants, so it hardly matters. we find no need to waste ourselves away grinding cyclically around the protection of a single forest or peak. not when there are so many other heights and valleys to feed upon. not when there are so many herds we must follow." it wouldn't be long before diaspora had the numbers to sustain themselves as a legitimate pack, but as far as he was concerned, the two or three or more he had at his side felt like plenty to eek out a living among the sunspires.

"but perhaps you prefer your solitude," stigmata observed, narrowing his eyes upon the loner with a readiness to dismiss him if that was the case.

RIGHT? The entire second half of the game is just full on e m o t i o n s

His correction was met with a simple flick of an ear, and Redshank tested the air around the other, trying to pick out the seperate smells that clung to his pelt. It was a wild, chaotic mix, like most other loners of the Wilds, but there were other wolf scents there too. Though none were familiar. He gave a small tilt of his head at the mention of vagrants and listened intently to the man's master plan (DUTCH IS THAT YOU?).

The idea was a novel one, one Redshank cautiously weighed with a contemplative glance down at the meagre scrap of meat he held. He was a natural wanderer, loathe to be rooted in one spot for too long. It just made sense to follow the herds, especially in the mountains where few others dared tread.

But perhaps you prefer your solitude. "Do I fuckin' look—" he began to snap before he just as abruptly cut himself off. Niamh's words ran through his head. Don't be an idiot. If the winter would be as bad as she had said, it would most definitely be his last without the help of a pack. He grappled inwardly with his own flaring temper for a moment before shifting his weight, looking back to the stranger's feet. "What do I need t'do to...impress you?" he asked lowly.

the snap reaction was as amusing as it was unsettling. no wonder the mongrel was on his own. but everyone knew that the most loyal dogs came in as soured strays, and this one in particular seemed halfway there already. primed for grooming, and positioned for an overhaul. it wasn't too late for the ruddy sub-adult - not in stigmata's holier-than-thou opinion.

"you have done so," he said simply, acknowledging the previous clipped outburst with only a dismissive flick of his ear. "your only task now is to be sure my favor is kept." the warhound thought to expound on what he expected of the young wolf  - obedience, civility, servitude - and that he should expect to get as much of those things as he gave, but stigmata often found that experience was a far more convincing teacher than finely spun lectures, so he refrained.

"come with me. i will show you what diaspora has to offer you." he turned then, prepared to brave the winter world once more and testing the true mettle of his potential new charge, who seemed as comfortable as he was going to get, up there on his stony perch. stigmata paused once to allow him to catch up, or to see that the wolf remained unconvinced of his prowess, and then continued on his way from the wooded cavern.

Oh? Redshank's skull tilted quizzically to one side again as the man spoke, surprised he didn't have some sort of trial for the Cairn and simply accepted him at his word. The only thing he asked in return was loyalty, the boy guessed, as most leaders did. Redshank couldn't promise his loyalty would extend beyond winter — surviving way his main goal here — but the stranger didn't need to know that.

He gave a small nod in understanding, watching as the man swept away quietly with an offer to follow. He watched him saunter off for a moment with a deliberating gaze, giving the cavern one last glance before stumbling off his rock, discarding the rat carcass and trailing after him. It was either die here or follow this mysterious man out into the wild unknown, but if anything Redshank was a survivor — so it was an easy choice.