Bearclaw Valley crash of worlds

aw! looking to start working on his merc trade..

word traveled quick about the recent coyote attack. a young girl—winslet, he recounts hearing in whispers—had gotten ambushed by coyotes. it seemed like they were getting bolder. likely because of the cold and their own mating season. dolce felt it was his responsibility to help even the odds; to ensure an attack wouldn't happen again, especially to any of the women who've fallen pregnant. 

and so he found himself prowling along the territory, following the once stale scent trail of coyotes. he'd hear them in the night, while he'd bedded beside his mate, yowling and yipping. and while he might not know winslet, his blood boiled with ire. he wouldn't allow it to happen again.

the scent grew stronger. he was hoping to find their densite, where he was sure the females would start digging into the earth and settling down. catch them off guard, maybe. with purpose he pushes forward, expression set with determination.

tvar’s patrol takes him along the eastern border, where cole’s makeshift defenses stand sharp and imposing against the frost-dusted terrain. his sharp gaze sweeps over the stakes, testing their sturdiness with a brief press of his paw. satisfied for now, he continues, his breath misting in the crisp air.

in the distance, movement catches his eye. dolce. tvar pauses briefly, considering whether to stay on his path or divert toward the man he’s still not entirely sure about. with a low huff, he decides to approach.

if only to gauge the worth of the bruin and see if he was worth a damn.

when he’s close enough, narrowed eyes swipe over the brute and he chuffs a low greeting, falling in stride with him.

his pace falters for a moment as a familiar chuff catches his attention. with a swing of his head, he finds tvar striding toward him. the man he once competed with, and once greeted with hostility. he felt no ire toward him anymore—he shouldn't of in the first place. 

but it's in the past, and all he can hope to do is let that be water under the bridge. 

so, he greets him with a tip of his muzzle. respectful. "mornin'," he rumbled. he stood for a moment longer, just until tvar might've joined his side. "you smell 'em?" he gestured ahead, where their scents hung thick in the cold, stagnant air. "hopin' to find where they're beddin' down." 

and while he wouldn't extend a formal invitation, part of him hoped tvar would join. two was always better than one, and perhaps he could right his wrongs.

whatever rivalry they might’ve had felt irrelevant now, especially with the pressing matters at hand.

he offers a low rumble in return, dipping his head in acknowledgment. morning., he echoes. as dolce gestures ahead, tvar’s sharp eyes follow the motion, narrowing slightly at the unmistakable scent of coyotes hanging in the air. it’s thick, pungent, and far too close for comfort.

yeah, he signs as well as speaks. been smelling them all week. they’re getting bolder. his lips curl faintly in disdain as he shifts his weight, glancing back at dolce. can’t have another attack like this. not with pups on the way.

sure they got beds down, or will soon. he jerks his muzzle toward the trail ahead.

"too damn bold," he scowled in agreement. unlike tvar, he wasn't the sire to any litters that'd be born come spring. but that no less quelled the drive to help defend those unborn pups. to create a safe environment for them to grow. "y'heard 'bout that girl? don't need that again. 'specially with little ones that'll be runnin' 'round."

sharp, dark eyes raked over the treeline, searching. they were close, and he was itching to sink his teeth into their mangy hides. he began moving again, expecting tvar to join him. muscles coiled beneath his fur, tense in anticipation for a fight. 

the silence as they moved felt uncomfortable. "heard you 'n towhee are expectin'," he mentioned as casually as he could. "'s good to hear."

as dolce moves, tvar falls into step beside him, more than willing to hand him the reins. his senses on high alert. his tail lashes once in irritation; not from dolce, but from the growing nerve of the critters encroaching on the valley.

at the mention of towhee and their litter, tvar’s expression softens, a smile tugging at his lips only for the briefest of seconds. yeah, he says. wasn’t planned, but— he pauses, the words catching in his throat briefly before continuing, i’m glad.

he glances at dolce, curious. thanks. and you? his gaze flickers back to the trail ahead. are you and rala thinkin’ about it?

with a chuckle, he said, "s'pose it isn't planned most of the time, anyway." there was a thoughtful pause then, as they continued forth. "reckon' you're gonna make a fine father to them pups." while they got off on the wrong foot, dolce had respect for the man. he was strong, dependable; it was proven with the rex and regina's trust toward him.

he was happy that tvar had moved on, and he wanted to prove that there was no longer any bad blood between them. though, he wasn't sure if there ever was on tvar's end. perhaps he envied him, in that regard. 

the scent is strong now. in the distance is the grating yowling of the coyotes; they didn't sound alarmed, least not yet, so dolce hoped they'd still have the element of surprise. he moved quicker now, eager to catch them. to spill their blood the same way they'd spilled that young girl's. 

tvar's question catches him off guard. he clears his throat, his ears planing sideward for a second. "i know she wants 'em, and she'd make a helluva mother. just dunno if i'd make the best father." not to say he wouldn't try, but starting a family hadn't exactly been on his mind before he'd met his woman. 

he thinks of his own father, the one who'd scarcely ever been in his life. up and deserted dolce and his mom shortly after he was born; he hardly even knew the fuckers name. he was certain on one thing; if he were to have kids, he wouldn't desert them. he'd stay and try his best to be the father they deserve.

tvar’s ears flicked forward at dolce’s words, his pace slowing just slightly as he processed them. he spared dolce a quick glance, his expression unreadable for a moment before a faint grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

sure you’d surprise yourself, tvar shrugs. takes more guts to admit doubt than it does to pretend you don’t have any.

he adjusted his stride to match dolce’s quickened pace, the tension of the hunt starting to coil in his muscles. despite the seriousness of their conversation, he couldn’t help but add with a teasing smirk, and hey, if you screw it up, you’ll have plenty of wolves around to set you straight.

the sharp scent of coyotes grew stronger, and tvar’s focus sharpened.

he motioned ahead with a tilt of his head. we’re close. flank left; i’ll go right. let’s make sure they don’t see the sunrise.