Frostfire Ridge i'd take the coldness from your eyes

For @Zezemel — potential recruit thread #4.

Things were coming along well, Týrr reflected as he did his routine check of the caches he'd made within Frostfire Ridge's heartland. Perhaps such an action had been borne of little but arrogance, but that was not something that the Amazon Rekkr had ever considered himself as. Confident, certainly. Yet, there was a fair and faint line between confidence and arrogance. Even before things had begun to truly progress he had known he was not alone. Perhaps he was alone in the dream, but even when majority of Duskfire Glacier vanished to the winds he trusted that Manauia would be by his side, even if she was not happy about it. In honesty, Týrr was not sure Manauia knew how to be happy, but hoped that the appearance of Nochtli and Citali, and their vow to stay as he deigned to rise an empire would put her mind at ease. She was no longer alone, and he had gained two recruits in their refusal to leave him, albeit, there were two more triggers for his memories which were scarce as they were wisps — barely tangible. For the moment, it did not feel like Tezcacoatl was attempting to spring from his skull and covertly, Týrr took a small measure of relief from it. He was in no hurry to remember who he'd been, content to let them come as they pleased. The migraines that came from prying into the memories, attempting to extract them himself would make him appear unstable and would open an unwanted opportunity to challenge him for his title of King before he could even see it brought to fruition. No. Frostfire Ridge was his, and he would not let another steal what he had claimed. He did not worry so much about this, though, for in his months of living here and preparing it to sustain a pack (which it could do adequately enough without his efforts), none had rose to challenge his intended claim.

A soft snort left his black, leathery nostrils as he continued forth, absently trekking the path of his caches with leisure. The women were somewhere, either together or separate but he knew that one of them was close. One of them was always close, as if he were still the boy he'd been when they had first left, in need of their protection. Nevertheless, he humored them because he was in no real mood to deal with three nagging women if he refused (not that they'd ever given him a real choice). One was enough for him.

Zezemel was treading in lands unfamiliar to him and as such trod with caution. He'd been traveling for weeks in search of a new pack and place to call home. Traveling the land scape alone. He found himself in this unfortunate circumstance because of a dire incident in his previous pack. A mysterious illness had swept his pack and he was one of the lucky ones not to contract the sickness. In the best interest for his ongoing survival he chose to leave the pack in chance of brighter futures. Zezemel's head had been filled with too much negativity and the mourning for his lost pack mates on his journey, but now that he was in new lands he thought of new opportunity.

He stopped in place, raising his head high to scope the surrounding area. The same surroundings he had seen for a little while now. But what caught his eyes was a brown creature in the distance making it's pace on the landscape. Zezemel assumed it was another wolf, if so, it was the first wolf he had seen in a while. He decided to follow the beast from a distance, trying to determine it's nature before approaching it.

Zezemel, keeping distance on his target tried keeping pace and staying stealthy. His over sized, brawny physique hindered his attempts at speed and stealth. But still he kept up. He wanted to see what this wolf was up to.

Týrr had not been non receptive, nor entirely unwelcoming to the curious loners that happened to meander into Frostfire Ridge, for now. He was still in the processes of recruiting, though he had gathered a small group already, still, his ambitions were not so small. He was close to setting claim to it, to marking it as his, as theirs, but this was not a process that he wished to rush. He had to prove himself a capable leader to those that had agreed to follow him and he knew that rushing head long into it. Even so the desire to chase them out of the heart, to bully them into the buffer zone, though even that made him uncomfortable was a strong one. Yet, he held no claim to the lands and until he did he could not, on any sort of ground, push back. As long as they stayed away from the caches — that which they were not welcome to — he saw no need to use brute force and intimidation. For now, he was a would-be-King and he played up the diplomatic side, testing out what worked and what did not.

It was because of his pacified diplomatic (and no claim) that did not rouse his possessiveness of Frostfire Ridge when he caught the scent of another loner nearby. It prickled, certainly, but it remained slumbering. Attention diverted justly from his path, tucking away thoughts of the yet unchecked caches to scan, searching for even a sliver of a glance. Steps ceased as his gaze found and focused upon the ebony male, whom seemed to have been following. A chuff was given, ears splaying to either side of his head in a subtle warning. He did not know the loner's intentions and suspected that he might perhaps be seeking the location of their caches. “What is your name? And your business with me?” The Rekkr asked, avoiding pleasantries for the moment. He could not help it. He did not like being followed, and felt that it was his right to understand why the other male was chasing after him.