Hushed Willows it's just be-bopulation

Although he was, admittedly, prone to wandering, Dusty Rose had stuck close to the territory since Reverie's litter was born. He was intrigued by the pups, even though or perhaps especially because he didn't have much to do with them. This led to a distant sort of possessiveness, and the coywolf's scent grew heavier on the borders as a direct result.

If he couldn't eat them — or, y'know, just play with them, in the way that he'd meant for them to play with the game hen — then he certainly didn't want any strangers cashing in on that sort of thing. He was jealous of the wolves who got to poke at them, but he couldn't bring himself to feel left out. His own mother, god rest her soul, would never have stood for a stranger's presence near the den. He'd been allowed extraordinarily close already, and he thought that'd been real nice of Reverie.

So, even though he sort of hoped contributing a little more that his usual efforts would win him a few more points, this was more daydream than scheme. He did not expect it would make much of a difference — and so he lay in wait, hoping to find an opportunity to prod at them himself.

Not today, though. Today, he trotted along the borders with a bundle of sticks in his mouth. Here and there, he paused to lift his leg on a rock or to scratch his signature into the dirt.

A man had begun to frequent the area around his sister's den; that same man's scent was thick along the borders now. As if staking his claim. Tybault had reacted at first with a distant sort of irritability, scoping the coywolf from afar now and then to see what he might be contending with. It was Reverie's choice, in the end, who would fill the space left by Boone. He assumed that she would choose. What was a pack without a breeding pair?

But until then, Tybault wouldn't tolerate anyone stepping into that role. He'd been trailing Dusty Rose for some time, but only now closed the distance between them as the man paused to mark the borders. Tybault was silent, making no effort to appear friendly. He didn't want to be the man's friend. He wanted him to stay the fuck away from his sister.

So look: maybe he'd made a special effort to avoid Reverie's brothers. He hadn't been terribly sociable with anyone other than Reverie herself, though he was generally polite when he ran into the others. The brothers, though — Dusty Rose was just a little confused by their presence. He'd been raised by two fathers himself, so their combined efforts to nurture Reverie's fatherless brood made sense to him. He only wondered how they could stand each other so far into their adult lives —

And he definitely didn't expect them to be able to stand him.

He froze when he became aware of his tail, black nose twitching furiously and ears on the swivel. He spun to face the man, stiff-legged and wary at first, but then with an appeasing waggle of his tail when he decided he was not in immediate danger of attack. Soon, perhaps, but not immediate.

He let his bundle of sticks drop to the forest floor. Though the rest of his body language was carefully deferential, he did place one possessive paw over his prize. He eyed him up, very briefly, and decided they were of a similar enough size. He could take him, right?

"Do you know the very worst thing about springtime?" he asked in that peculiar way of his; as if he was continuing a conversation that'd only just been set aside for a time.

Tybault remained tense, unmoved by the deference in the coywolf's posture. The possessive gesture, too, went ignored. He was all steely silence — until the man addressed him with a question. Tybault snorted.

What's that? His voice was level when he spoke, betraying none of the hostility written into his posture. This man was one of Reverie's wolves, and Tybault had not forgotten his place here. He'd give him a fair chance to back off.

Truthfully, he was pretty sure the thought would be wasted on this man. He didn't seem keen on introspection right then — but he was the one who'd invited himself into Dusty Rose's company, and not the other way around. So he was not shy about sharing what'd been on his mind.

"It happens so fast," he said, looking up at the budding canopy. "One minute everything's all white, and then it's not. Overnight, sometimes. And all the trails you walked through the snow are suddenly overgrown. You walk 'em again but the grass grows so fast. The nights are getting shorter, too. You look up at the stars but it always looks like twilight, one or the other. It turns a place you thought you knew into somethin' else."

Not that it was unwelcome, necessarily. But —

"It wasn't like that — the place where I came up." The rains, though, had had a similar way of resetting the landscape. It was hardly much of a change in such a homogenous landscape, but it was a cleansing all the same. "But I suppose there's all different sorts of ephemera to bitch about," he conceded, as if Tybalt had pointed this out to him.

The fuck?

Tybault immediately decided that dude was out of his mind. And maybe that wasn't the worst thing; Reverie was pretty well out of her own mind half the time, too. Still, he didn't think she needed more crazy in the mix. She was all full up on that.

Yeah, I know what you mean, He drawled, eyes hard on the coywolf. One minute your sister's all alone in her den, grieving her dead husband - then some little vulture starts hanging around like he owns the place.

All sorts of ephemera to bitch about, Tybault echoed Dusty Rose's last words pointedly, watching for his reaction.

The coywolf's ears pinged to the top of his head, cupped toward Tybault in interest as he clocked the other man's tone. Given the chance to de-escalate, he had instead chosen to carry on being an asshole. Which made Dusty Rose feel that he had every right to be an asshole, too.

"Oh, pithy," said Dusty, his tail wheeling briefly in faux applause. "I see what you did there. How about this one?"

He took a half-step closer, pile of sticks forgotten, and went on in the same pleasant tone.

"One minute you're happily patrolling the borders, doing your part to look out for the pack. Y'know. Huntin'. Singin'. Mindin' your own fucken business — and the next you're thinkin' maybe this place ain't so nice as you thought. 'Cause you find out that, despite all that, some self-important asshole can only see a little vulture."

He snorted.

"Fucken bite me, man."

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Aww, I thought we were having a moment, Tybault grinned unkindly, hackles lifting at the perceived threat of the coywolf's approach. He stood unblinking, golden eyes sharp on the other man. Go ahead and play nice guy. I know your game. I catch you fucking my sister and you'll spend the rest of spring picking your own teeth out of your ass.

Confident he'd made his point, Tybault turned to leave the coywolf to sing to his bundle of sticks or whatever. He wasn't here for a pissing contest.

The naked threat brought a coyote grin to his face. He was, abruptly, furious with the interaction. The idea that Tybault would now flounce off and pat himself on the back for a job well done.

"Why wait until you catch me at it?" he asked the man's turned back. "Naw, man. I think you better come teach me a lesson. 'Cause I ain't learned shit 'cept what an insufferable dick hole you are and how much I wanna do exactly the opposite of what you say. Is my next lesson about how you're a pussy with no fucken follow-through?"

He was still a little shocked over the interaction, though he ought to have learned long ago to expect the worst from wolves. The least Tybault could have done — if he couldn't suffer the indignity of approaching his concerns with some tact — would be to stick around and acknowledge that his threat had been ineffective.

And look — Dusty Rose wasn't trying to fuck Reverie. He'd thought, fleetingly and occasionally, that he just might give it a go. But show him a man who hadn't (and, uncharitably, the coywolf did not count Tybault as one of them) and maybe he'd start to feel bad about himself. And that was a big maybe, considering the amount of action (exactly none) he'd taken. He just wasn't all that interested in a relationship right then, and especially not one that included kids he still wasn't sure he wanted to eat.

But y'know? This might just change his mind.

Dusty Rose threw threats and provocations after him, but Tybault didn't spare him a second glance. He'd clearly made his point, whatever the coywolf might say. In his mind the matter was settled: the little shithead would stay away from Reverie, Tybault would stay away from him, everyone would win. Simple enough, right?

And he did leave feeling pretty proud of himself. Tybault, after all, had no way of knowing just how futile his efforts really were. He wouldn't find out for several more weeks.