Hushed Willows Ironborn.

It was not the sight of strange, sweeping foliage that drew the prowler close to pack territory. Instead, Rökkvi was drawn to the faded markers that littered the forest's edge.

He lingered for a time, roaming along the willows' perimeter with ears high on his smoky crown and gilded stare searching for signs of life. If anyone watched for lurkers, they did not approach to intercept; the Northerner felt they'd have spotted him well before now.

So he waited, curious to see if the land remained inhabited or if its wolves simply didn't care to reinforce their claim. If no one detected him soon, he would have no problem venturing through in search of caches to raid.

He was growing more restless. Since his uncomfortable encounter with the tiger and his shieldmaiden in the hinterlands, followed by the appearance of new neighbours who'd set up camp right next door, Sundance had felt increasingly on edge. He was worried, more so now that such a small number remained to call the willows their home.

They were going to fail. There was no realistic way of holding onto their claim with so few comrades. For the second time in his life, Hushed Willows would be lost to him.

When Sundance happened across the steel-furred watcher on the outskirts of his home, dread crept into his being. He paused among the weeping branches of his beloved willows and lifted his pale chin, powder blue eyes seeking the rugged features of a wolf he didn't know. A platinum ear twitched, cautious but curious.

When at last a figure emerged from the strange woods, Rökkvi lifted his fierce gaze to look upon him. It swept over the long-legged figure, judgemental. Silver and alabaster: shades of the North.

Despite the hues of his pelage, this one was unsuited to his family's ruthless claim. A corner of Rökkvi's mouth twitched upward in his fleeting amusement.

The Ironborn did not breathe a word. Instead, he continued to watch the skinny yearling for any suggestion that he might find the courage to challenge his proximity.

Sundance remained quietly among the weeping willows, pale eyes continuing to study the rogue across the distance they maintained between one another. He twitched a whisker, feeling extremely unnerved beneath the sharpness if the stranger's stare, but he remained rooted to the spot.

He had seen enough in those brief minutes to know that he would be no match for this warrior.

Sundance thought back to the end of his time with Elysium, when the cliff-dwellers had come to join them. Only weeks later did one usurp their Shiva, Sunny - Valiant's father. That reign hadn't lasted long, as the earth had begun to tremble days later, but he struggled to think of how their sanctuary would've warped beneath Dacio's rule.

He did not wish for Seelie Court to suffer as Elysium did back then. After a moment of trying to conjure up what little courage he had, the silverwhite stepped forward carefully. He kept his eyes locked to the dark snout of the outsider and, despite the acceleration of his frantic heart, he bravely flagged his snow-dipped tail in warning.

Silence. It hung heavy in the space between them, ominous. Rökkvi inhaled deeply, patient as he waited. Time seemed to tick by slowly as he awaited the yearling's decision on how to navigate the lurking of a stranger on his territory's outskirts, and knew exactly what sort of reaction he wanted to see.

It'd been too long since he'd tested his fighting skills and, while he doubted a wolf so young would make a formidable opponent, Rökkvi would leap head-first into any opportunity.

When at last it was presented in the form of a challenge, the ironborn rumbled his resistance. He was not the type to shy from such actions so, to mimic the silverwhite's actions, Rökkvi arched his own tail over his powerful hindquarters in a dominant display of his own.

There was a moment. Not a pause of hesitation, nor one of annoyance or regret. The steel-furred brute continued to stare back at him, perhaps in quiet contemplation. Sundance couldn't hear the low rumbling he emitted, having kept a comfortable distance between them. The flagging of his own tail had been given purely to show this stranger that his presence wasn't welcome, and it seemed he would realise too late that he'd been a fool to think this loner would simply carry on his way.

"My name is-" the yearling started, pausing abruptly to note the arch of the outsider's proud tail. Something akin to surprise, laced with a tremor of fear, crossed the boy's pallid features as he completed his introduction: "Sundance. Who are you?"

Ah, that ought to work! Pretend everything was normal and encourage some small talk. They'd just started off on the wrong foot, after all, right?

He very much doubted things would be plain sailing from there, but Sundance was an aspiring optimist.

Sundance. Sundance!?

Rökkvi snorted a breath of laughter, amused at such a ridiculous moniker, though no smirk crossed his lips. Perhaps, if the bold yearling were to look close enough at the iron beast's gilded stare, he would see some small glimmer of mischief swirl in their molten depths.

What sort of mother would name her cub such an absurd title? What sort of father would allow her to bestow it upon his infant son? Rökkvi had learned quickly that these Southern wolves were unlike his kin, and found it odd that they did not earn their names as he had. 

He prowled forward, closer to the faerie wolf. Charcoal ears fell slick against his peppered nape as his brow furrowed, as his jowls twitched to accomodate the threat of a snarl that bloomed in his throat.

"Your worst nightmare."

When it became crystal clear that the stranger didn't seem interested in his introduction, Sundance gritted his teeth. You fool, he mused, silver ears splaying atop his crown and posture slackening as the ironborn prowled forward, you damn fool.

Alabaster paws carried him backward a few strides, so eager he was to create greater distance while the rogue moved to close it. Involuntarily, his guard hairs bristled defensively and from his throat came a strained whine, an apology as he prepared to retreat to the safety of the willows - an expression he knew was likely to fall on unwilling ears.

He revelled in the boy's submission, a surge of triumph throughout his bloodstream to see him wither. Rökkvi knew he would - his attempt to assert himself had been a poor one. Hackles erect, the ashen viking parted his jaws as he drew closer and growled fiercely. Despite Sundance's attempt to pacify the situation, the boy had already deeply insulted him with his pitiful little display, and Rökkvi needed to ensure that his place was known.

He quickened his pace as the faerie wolf made to turn from him and came upon him heavily, reaching for the scruff of his neck as he shifted to slam against a platinum flank. Rökkvi pushed his weight against him, and, when he succeeded in bringing him to his knees, he placed himself directly above his opponent by straddling his narrow shoulders between his forepaws. Rökkvi released his grip to clack his fangs in warning mere centimetres from a sterling lobe: "you dare challenge me, strákur?"

Panic rose within him to hear the swift approach of the steel-furred rogue at his heels and fear urged him to go deeper into the woods. There was no time to escape, however, and soon the beast was upon him sooner than he'd expected. The weight if him was thrust roughly against Sundance's flank, shoving him with enough force to make his stumble forward and come crashing face-first to the ground with a surprised yelp.

Fresh blood flooded his nasal cavities at the impact, and began to run freely past his lips. It trailed hotly amid the fur if his throat and dribbled in hot droplets across his pale forelimbs as he scrambled to gather to his paws, coughing.

"Please," he gasped, pale eyes wide with desperation as she writhed to look up at the stranger towering over him. "I-I didn't mean-" He sputtered again, accidentally splattering crimson spray in the direction of his assailant's face. 

He was a fool. A damn fool.

When the silver yearling opened his mouth to defend himself with words, Rökkvi's fangs parted again. A ferocious snarl spilled into the cold air, hot on the back of Sundance's sterling crown, before teeth clacked shut in a sharp nip at the tufted base of a lobe. Silence, the gesture demanded, and he maintained the low rumbling of his growl to warn that he would not tolerate anything but quiet.

He attempt at an explanation was cut shurt, silenced by the rush of warm breath at the back of his neck. Sundance inhaled sharply in a gasp, ears splaying backward and powder blue eyes squeezing shut. The nip to his lobe was unexpected, harsh on the delicate flesh there, and with a surprised yelp he automatically shifted to roll submissively. He was contained, however, with a strong forepaw pinned against either of his shoulders, so could offer nothing more than the bowing of his crown.

Silence seemed prefereable to the beast, so Sundance fell quiet. He flicked his tongue nervously over an upper lip and curled his tail close to his rear, reluctant to move any more for fear of provoking another outburst from his attacker.

Quiet, at last. Stillness. Submission. Rökkvi, with his hackles still spiked and his proud tail still arched to communicate his place in the pecking order, felt triumph course his veins as champagne eyes stared unwavering at the back of the other male's skull. With a determined sweep of his tongue over bared fangs, he leaned forward.

Looming over the silverwhite's slim frame, Rökkvi reached to grip his alabaster snout between his jaws. He squeezed the tips of his canines to either side of his snout as he roughly pushed his chin into the dirt, puncturing just enough to sample the metallic tang of fresh blood. He dragged the moment out cruelly, then slackened his hold to step clumsily over the weakling wolf and carry on his way, intent on taking advantage of what his territory had to offer.

The brute, too arrogant to just accept what display of submission Sundance could over, made sure to leave one final mark. The silver youth's muzzle was grasped between fangs and forced down roughly into the dirt, and closed his eyes tight with a strained whine.

The moment dragged on, but at last the ironborn released his hold. Sundance didn't dare look his way until his presence felt more faded, and he blinked up just in time to see charcoal and ash disappear among his beloved willows. He did not gather to pursue - there was no point. In failing once to protect his home, there was no doubt that he would do so again.

So he furrowed his brow and just lay there, pathetic, with fangs gritted as he struggled against the wave of emotion that came suddenly sweeping over him.