Redhawk Caldera Betting on the bull in the heather

Cold water gave breadth to clarity. A frigid bath in the stream purged Whip of all impurity following his flight from the caldera. He held a steadying breath deep in his chest before silently watching the wisps of vapor rise into the great white expanse above.

The compulsion to forget and move on was undeniable. He supposed this was just another addition to the long list of bridges he had burnt. Still, he kicked himself over his lack of thought. He could feel his reflection's judgmental gaze boring into him from sad silver eyes to pink ribbon scars. He was a ruiner -- always had been.

He turned away.

Returning to the border was a mistake, but he once again found himself on the fringes of his childhood home, longing for a simpler time. He waited at length before raising his voice in call.

She would have preferred to spend the entire duration of this poorly timed season hidden away, grieving in her den over the loss of her youngest son. She felt deeply ashamed of herself, for having succumbed to such brazen, instinctive desires at a time when she was so deeply wounded and vulnerable by her loss, and was incapable of telling herself that this wasn't simply all her fault. She wanted nothing more than to simply disappear into the darkness and dissolve- but stronger than both her grief and her shameful desire was her thirst- so she left the den, slinking toward the lake at the heart of the pack's territory. 

But when a howl came from the borders, she sighed. Towhee wouldn't hear it, and perhaps she should have simply left Phox to the task- but being out of the den and in the fresh air actually...Felt nice. The further she roamed from the toxic friendliness of darkness the better she felt, so she continued past the lake. At first, she was summoned by little more than duty and curiosity- but it did not take long for that little bud of a question had grown and warped into something much darker and more urgent. She'd not recognized the voice which had called out- but it had belonged to a male. 

And when she thought for a moment of her mate- the sweet face of their deceased son came to mind, so she pushed the thought of both of them out of her mind, and set upon this new distraction with renewed vigour. 

With a keen, sparkling interest to her honeyed gaze she looked upon the stranger, and was drawn closer. Last year's children had made her feel so worn, tired and old- but in seeing this stranger through rose-coloured lenses, she felt herself come alive. So she approached with her tail curled slightly, but the tip waved in an enticing, playful manner. Her ears flicked forward, and she gazed with alluring intensity upon the male, uttering nothing more than a soft, demanding chuff in greeting.

In the time Whip spent waiting, he reflected silently. It was, perhaps, the third time now he had returned to the Teekon Wilds in search of some familiar spark. Yet, thrice, he had not found it. He questioned why he had returned, if not out of some odd reflex, for he knew what he truly sought, he would not find here among the shadows of the past. Yet still, he could not let go.

The cycle was all he knew anymore. Though he desperately wished to shake it, he knew not how.

He supposed he would begin with an apology. When he began to smell the tantalizing scent of estrus, expecting Towhee to return and rebuke him once more, Whip dug in. He thought of the stream and of cold, cold water. Already, he was practicing what he would say -- how he would explain the unexplainable -- in his mind.

Yet, it wasn't Towhee. It was another. A stranger. Jesus Christ, what a day this was.

With the last few hours still fresh in Whip's mind, he exercised a rare level of restraint. He kept himself low, tail wagging curiously as he mirrored her chuff in reply.

He was interested, and she uttered a low growl when he replied. She licked her lips, perhaps as a means of quieting her nervs, or in an attempt to control her facial features, as she could not contain the wild, outlandish desire she felt...But she hated herself for it, as well. And with every ebb of longing came a flow of regret and shame- only to repeat the cycle over and over again, like waves urged to and from the shoreline by the tide. 

She felt confident and highly self-aware at the same time- and drew closer to him, bristling as she did so- watching him with a hawkish gaze as she closed the gap between the two of them, so that she could step close enough to touch noses, and exchange scents. She reached out- and felt a small jolt of electricity sting the tip of her nose as she attempted to brush her whiskers against his.

She was a curious thing, commanding more of Whip's attention with every tentative step. He watched with rapt, undivided interest. Yet, remaining cautious, Whip allowed her to make an approach on her own terms.

When the stranger drew close, Whip did not shrink away. Though there was an initial air of hesitation to him, as he took in her scent, he felt it melt away into a warm place. The ice bath in the stream was no more than a passing thought now. Fleeting; like a leaf in the wind. He dared not second guess himself now. 

The gap between them was nearly nonexistent. She brushed against him lightly and in its wake, an anticipatory tension welled. He felt spry. Young and new. Tail wagging behind him, Whip bowed before her in an instinctual and wordless invitation to give chase.

In a mirror image of his invitation, Niamh sank into a bow to accept the challenge, though she instinctively bounded backward a pace or two first- having thought he might give chase to her. It put a bit of space between them as Whip began to surge away from her through the snow but she was quick to recover and thought snidely to herself that it was simply a show of mercy that she'd given him, allowing him a bit of a head start. With long legs like hers, there wasn't a wolf she thought could beat her in a flat out race-

But she had forgotten about the significant slash across the front of her left leg. It'd healed to the point of beginning to scar, but the healing skin was fresh and thin still, and this would be the first time her step would move past a slow trot since before Kiwi had bitten her. She felt the skin tighten and pull with each stride as she ran, ans felt the ache of deep tissue complaining all the way up her forelimb but she pushed through it, and charged after Whip. The snow cushioned her footfalls, at least, so the impact of her foot hitting the ground was lessened somewhat. 

She issued a low, playful growl as she pursued him, tail waving and ears pricked as she watched him for any sign that he might dodge or swerve- so she might cut a corner and catch up with him.

With little warming, Whip took flight. 

The stranger was a leggy creature, appearing as if she had been specifically for the purpose of speed. Whip, however, had not been blessed with a similar frame. Weakened by the rugged winter and many months alone, he was far from peak condition. Yet, his current state did little to stop him from cutting a clean line through the deepening snow.

This odd creature who gave chase, Whip did not even know her name -- yet he felt an inexplicable fondness for her. Perhaps it had been her season that spurred Whip to drop his guard. He could not remember the last time he'd ran with a stranger. Nor the last time he had been filled with such joy.

He cast a furtive glance back, peering around his shoulder as he surged forward with renewed vigor. However, after seeing Niamh steadily gain ground, Whip cut right. It was a clumsy evasive maneuver, halting his momentum. Yet, as his sides began to heave with ragged breath, Whip's unconscious desire to be overtaken became clear.

Niamh accelerated after Whip, pushing away the quickening throb of pain every time her stride put weight on her foreleg. She'd locked her gaze upon the male playfully dashing away from her, and when she saw him brace to veer, she anticipated the movement and cut in earlier- only by a fraction, but it was enough for her to cut the corner and overtake him. She spared him a wild and ambitious side-eye as she did so, issuing a growl in hopes he might accept her challenge. 

She purposefully then veered in the opposite direction as soon as she'd crossed his path- intentionally zipping just ahead of him and potentially cutting him off, so that she could then lead him in a chase along the ridgeline that surrounded the plateau-like peak of the Caldera. While she cruised along, she did not push herself to her top speed- and she repeatedly glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure that he was falling for her bait.

*wave*

Phox, while still reeling from Prim's death, had other things on his mind as well. Actually, just one thing: Niamh. Her scent was for all intents and purposes intoxicating, and this year had been even more intense than the last. It was the first time he had spent two years with the same mate, and that made him feel even more possessive over her. When he returned to the den to find her gone, the Redhawk was immediately on edge, and he barreled after her scent.

When he saw her frolicking with another wolf—one who he did not recognize—Phox's teeth flashed and he quickened his pace, placing himself so that he faced the stranger who was flirting with his wife. Not just any flirting, either. This was a time when Phox would allow no such thing, and the hackles along his back indicated as much.

As she seized her opportunity, Whip could feel the air change. 

She was a rocket, burning bright and red in the peripheries of Whip's vision. It was with effortless grace that the pushed past him, and it left Whip reeling. Mouth agape and tongue lolling, Whip weaved himself into the trail she blazed. Paws dug deep into the earth, casting swathes of upturned snow in his wake, and he quickened his pace until muscles screamed and breath ran ragged. His body compelled him to stop, yet his spirit demanded more.

She cut a fast path along the ridge-line and Whip did his best to keep up. A mirthful growl slipped his lips, yet he found it soon silenced as trouble seemed to appear on the ridge. The welcome wagon had come, and it didn't look particularly hospitable.

Ears falling flat against his head, Whip skidded to a stop. A tentative paw was raised, ready to take flight, as looked upon the stranger looming aggressively in the distance with great caution. He canted his head and watched with inquisitive intent before signaling that he wasn't looking for any trouble with an amicable wave of his tail.

It was a dangerous game for her to be playing- enticing a stranger and leading him on a chase around the outskirts of the Caldera's edge, which at any other point in her life would have merited an entirely different reaction from the normally hostile Regent. She was risking being overpowered by the stranger, who could have taken advantage of the fact that she had one leg compromised by her recent injury. She was also weakened by her grief, which robber her of both her appetite and energy. But what she also risked was both her relationship and her rank, by enticing someone who was not her mate.

Dutiful as he was, Phox came charging after the duo, and as soon as Niamh realized she'd been caught, she felt a wave of shame hit her. She'd been willingly leading Whip on- but perhaps Phox didn't know that. She wasn't sure how much he'd seen- or if he'd simply caught sight of her being pursued by a stranger before chasing after them to intervene. She could spin this to her advantage yet, and rescue some of her reputation. 

So as soon as she had backup- and a legitimate reason not to indulge in something she shouldn't- she wheeled around, and postured herself as the Regent that she was, stiffening her pose and donning a more serious expression. Fortunately, the male deferred to Phox's authoritative presence as he approached. She waved her tail from side to side, as though silently amused to see the stranger almost getting caught doing something he probably would have regretted. He looked friendly enough, though- and was smart enough not to try and provoke a fight. 

She'd forgotten, by this point, that the stranger had even called out for an audience to begin with. "Well, you've found our borders," She said. There was much more she wanted to say- but she refrained. Phox wouldn't have approved. "What've you come for?" She asked.

The other male ceased chasing Niamh, and Phox pulled up alongside her. His rightful place, earned and kept. It was no easy task to have gotten Niamh by his side, and he was damned if he'd ever let anybody get between them. Placated, at least for now, he took a second longer to look over the stranger. There was something familiar about him, but Phox could not quite place it. Too much time had passed on top of his head injury for him to recognize his older brother.

This is Redhawk Caldera. I am Phox, and this is Niamh. She is mine, and I am hers. If the stranger had come seeking the warmth of her body, he could fuck right off. If, however, he had more noble intentions, Phox would hear him out.

Just doing a wee tidy-up.

Her mate had proved his mettle in keeping close enough to her that she couldn't be taken from him by another male. The flirtation had done her soul some good, but it made her feel all the more in tune with her mate to know that he would step forward and claim her as his in a way that made her want to drag him back to their den and tire him out. With the situation sorted out and boundaries set, her suitor could have a proper introduction and join with them all the while knowing just how close he'd potentially come to either scoring big time, or getting a good chunk bitten out of him.