[j] conquistador

Tried to be vague, made a few assumptions. Feel free to shoot me a pm if they're wrong and I'll gladly change it! c:

A light rain had fallen all day. Despite that it had not been heavy and that the dampness had not immediately taken to saturating every tendril of ash and pallid fur the Hunter was, effectively, soaked. Evidence enough that the weather had no bearing on his purpose. A weaker canine than him would have likely taken shelter against the gray clouds that hung, imposing over the lands, or perhaps one that did not harbor his views when it came to sense. Kingumut had been traveling since the first light of dawn had broken over the horizon, having stirred from his slumber when the first song bird had let out it's bittersweet sonnet into the tepid air that had hung thickly, like a cloak over the lands. The smell of rain had been evident even at the night's beginning though it was not the eldest that had the affinity for nature. This was not entirely true. He had an affinity for the death of nature's gifts: food and when it came down to it: other predators. Kingumut was not a seasoned warrior as his uncle, but he was a killer all the same. He hunted. He hunted food, and when he was pointed in the direction by his Alpha: he hunted wolves, too. Enemies of Tartok. Unfortunately, that was everyone else. The outsiders. It did not matter. He was given a target and he hunted, no strings attached. No pesky morals to hinder him, to get in his way of carrying out his assignment.

Driven by instinct was how Kingumut had been raised, and it was how he lived his life. Instinct drove him to travel through the less than desirable weather, towards what his Uncle sought. Towards his youngest brother's faded path. Aariak had came this way but if he had found what they'd been seeking, Kingumut did not know. Steps swift despite his broad, tall frame carried him towards the strong scent markers that he'd been closing in on for a few miles now. Nearer he drew until he was close enough to decipher the individual scents lain upon it, black, leathery nose poised earth bound as he sniffed curiously at it, though he was sure to leave more than an adequate distance between the scent markers and himself.

The Hunter was good with scents, good at remembering, and better at tracking with them. One struck him as familiar, giving the pallid and ash male a sense of deja vu though he could not adequately place it. He desired to move closer, as if somehow, minimizing the distance might trigger what was over whelming his senses: the tug of familiarity that refused to be placed. No closer he drew, however, knowing well enough that it would mean a battle and though he was always ready to fight Kingumut did not desire to waste his energy, if his intuition and suspicions were wrong. Nostrils flared as his head rose once more, mahogany red eyes raking the lands behind the invisible boundary line for a moment as he made his decision.

He howled for them and waited as the tenor of his call echoed in the distance.

The creature that guarded the borders so fiercely did no different today, moving along the perimeter with a swagger that practically screamed how fast she’d tear another in two if they got too close. Indeed, she’d already caught a stray coyote who’d forgotten the warning they’d sent the scavengers earlier on in their reign of the Spine. Other predators, even smaller ones, were not tolerated here, as the wolves that resided here ruled with an iron paw, grown only more heavy with the development of their pregnant leader. Their future was not to be at risk and the Beta was ever more vigilant in her protection of all those that lived here, even if a handful of them could handle themselves. She was Tartok. All was one entity, and one is all.

The rain made no difference to Nanuk, moving with the same drive and purpose that motivated her everyday. Her wills and strengths did not suffer against boredom or obstacles, for if something tried to keep her from accomplishing whatever task she had set out to do, she would either continue on or barrel down the thing that sought to rebel against her. As rain was not something that would bleed or back down because of her size, she simply moved, fur slowly soaking up the moisture as it flattened her outer coat.

Ears twisted as her head jerked in the direction of the howl. Close. Too close? Such a thing remained to be seen, mud and grime kicked up as she launched in the direction of the visitor, her own howl both answering and reaching to those that came to the call. She had this, though if another came to her side, she would not turn them away with another on their doorstep. Even the though of an outsider made the female's lip curl, golden eyes fierce in the gloom of the clouded day. It seemed whoever had come knocking had a sliver of intelligence however, far removed from their borders as he lingered.

She closed the distance quickly, her head and tail up, proud and dominant as she had every right to be. Her lips twisted into a snarl, its volume rising above the rain. Even so there was a tilt to her chin, wet hackles rising as she demanded him to state his reason for being here, for calling to them. Should he not answer in a timely fashion (her sense of time, not anyone else's), he would find himself bearing the brunt of her teeth and claws.

Arverk patrolled whenever he was not sparring or hunting, he did not rest until he really needed to. Pups were coming and the borders needed to be extremely secured and well defended, no one would come close or trespass, at least not on his watch. Uninvited wolves were definitely not welcomed here, but neither were the other small predators such as coyotes or foxes. Anything like that was a danger to the pups, and thus needed to be exterminated from Ouroboros Spine completely. Hopefully they would get the hint soon.

Rain did not bother the swarthy whale, it was nothing harmful as far as he was concerned and he had not finished his patrol yet. He was a determined wolf and he did not stop and give up just because something as stupid as rain happened. No Spine wolf would do that, he didn't see why anyone would do that, really. Didn't make sense to him.

Ears swiveled forward as a howl rang through the air, immediately, he turned around and rushed towards the source of the call. Close. Arverk was quite some distance away but he ran as fast as he could and finally arrived. The stranger who had howled was some distance away from the borders, which meant at least he had some sense. Lately, all those who came close did not have much sense.

Arverk strode forward and stopped just behind Kroc as she was already there. His hackles bristled along his spine but otherwise, he remained silent. He would watch and listen, and if Kroc did not like the stranger, he would chase him off.

The Hunter had not been made to wait long. Patience was something that Kingumut had learned, exhibiting none of it in his early months of life. The master hunter had self taught it, essential to his mastery of his particular skill sets. One could not rush the tracking and the observing of his target for he would stand to lose it before he could even set the game afoot. Despite his high levels of patience the hunter appreciated the promptness as much as he could. It meant that borders of this pack were strongly protected; and by fierce she-wolves at that, for it was a woman that broke through to his line of vision first, her silhouette taking to form the closer that she drew. She asserted herself as dominate with no hesitation, her snarl breaking through the meditated silence of the world around them. Kingumut accepted her assertion, large body lowering to the ground in submission before her. If she was Alpha or not, the hunter could not readily tell but there was little doubt in his mind that she was definitely a leader. These things were easily read by body language, a language that Kingumut felt he understood the best, despite his fluency in the common tongue and Inuit. 

“Tartok,” Kingumut let the name, family and pack alike, slip from his lips in his deep baritone, used but not as often as it could have been. His voice wasn't unpleasant, he supposed, but he rarely saw the need to use it, except in situations when speaking was a necessity. “I seek Tartok.” He told her, mahagony red eyes leaving her for a brief second to study the ebony male that approached next. He took quick stock of his surroundings, memorizing their positions in accordance to his own — nothing short of habit; though it was habit that enunciated his skills and the instinct to survive should anything go amiss. Kingumut would not know Siku's daughter by sight; for all he knew he could have been staring at her paws right now. Had he not found Tartok's branch off he would leave and continue his search elsewhere. Ever the strategist the hunter began to think of the different paths he could take him that would allow him to double back to where he'd started and reunite him with Uncle and the middle brother, should he not be able to find Tartok or Aariak here, which Kingumut had considered as a possibility all along, never one to err to anything other than reality.

I used this translator. So the word may be wrong but... yeah! lol. Also, if he speaks the language, would you mind not using any hover text? I'm mobile a lot and it is such a pain to hover things, possibly impossible. LOL

She knew her packmate was there but other than the flick of an ear, Arverk was given no attention, her focus centered on the loner. His deference to her was quick and was given with no violence, a rare quality in the wolves around here. While the rain dampened their sense of smell, Kroc could still pick up wisps of scent, ones that spoke of his travels. 

And so too, did his voice. The spoken name did not cause her compassion or immediate acceptance. Instead of welcoming him with open arms, she kept up her fierce display of rank. The name was well known and he could have been seeking it for any reason, to help, hinder, or spy. She did not trust his words, not right now, instead opening her jaws to launch into her own verbal response, the tongue of Tartok rolling from her in her not-so-feminine voice. 

"Summat?" Why?

It was a test of his identity. Most wolves did not speak Inuktitut, but all Tartok learned it, or a version of an Inuit language. Should he answer poorly, or not know the language, his chances would grow all the more slim. Never once did she drop her guard, either. In fact, she had taken a deliberate step forward to show that she would have no problem taking him down if that was what it came to.

Arverk was silent, but he was as alert as ever and made sure his guard was up. This wolf was a stranger and a loner, he was not one of the Spine yet and thus was not to be treated like one of them. As far as he was concerned, the stranger wolf in front of him could be dangerous to the pack and the upcoming pups, and it would remain that way until he proved himself and managed to join Ouroboros Spine.

The male spoke, speaking of Tartok, something he had heard before but did not truly know. Curiosity burned like wildfire beneath his smoky black breast but he restrained himself from asking and simply became the silent but ever alert guard behind the Beta Female. He would watch and he would listen, but he would not interfere. It was not his place to blurt out comments when a stranger was by their borders.

Kroc replied with a word, a foreign word that he did not understand but sounded similar to the one Tonravik spoke when he seeked a home in the Spine. Once again, he wanted to ask his superior what she was saying, but refrained from doing so. Instead, he cocked his head and thrust his ears forward, intense blue eyes focused firmly on the scene in front of him, his gaze strong and unwavering. Arverk would stay until he was dismissed.

No problem! :-) I followed your format, Gina, with the italics being the English translation.

Why? The Inuktitut word fell from the ivory leader's lips, his native tongue lilting in her voice, gruff for a woman; but the Hunter did not make his judgments based upon voice. He understood that she did not trust his word, mirroring his own sentiments. Words were useless to him. They could mean several things, they could be deceptive. Lies. He trusted his assessments, his keen eye and honed senses, he trusted the betrayal in the movements of muscle, the subtle shift of stances, the dilation of pupils, the catch in breathing. Physical things. “Nuutsumarinatuq” To settle, he spoke. It was why their Uncle had ushered them from Siku's branch. What lay beyond that purpose, Kingumut hadn't asked. Uncle was the dominate of them, asserting himself as their leader, given the respect he desired because of his experience and his ability to hold them. Kingumut recognized the most dominate as Alpha, and their Uncle, when they had departed from Siku had asserted himself above them. Guiding them even though he and his brothers were into their third year of life. More than adult enough.

“I am Kingumut Tartok,” He offered his name to her (and in effect her ebony guardian) in the common tongue (because Victoria couldn't find the translation for 'I am' in Inuit), though his baritone carried the lilting accent of his people.“Kinauvit?” Who are you? He inquired of her, though his eyes went further, asking if she, too and this place was Tartok. Tartok was a secretive bunch and he had no intentions of giving out valuable information until he knew for sure he'd found the right place. If she was truly of Tartok, then he believed that she would understand; and if she didn't then he would have his answer. Or so this was how the Hunter's perception made him see.

Thank you! This format is just so much easier for me. And sorry for the delayed reply. Yesterday was a busy day! Also, her words are a rough translation. I'm doing my best with that thing xD

His answer was not immediate but she waited all the same, her gold eyes nailing him to the spot with the conviction that he would die if he answered incorrectly. She and Arverk would bring him to heel with the speed and force that the Spine operated with, without hesitancy. But he did answer, and she snorted, derisive and malignant. Many wolves wished to settle here but not just any wolf could join them; each had to prove themselves and if they failed, they were run out. 

His name was what caused his chances to increase, though she showed no outwards signs of recognizing it. She did not even answer his question, because he had not earned that right yet. "Nalunaiksivuq namminiq." Prove yourself. If he had any skills, anything that would benefit the pack, Nanuk would demand them of him now. "Nauk ilissi sunatsaq? What are you good for?

Arverk knew his job now was to watch, to listen and to chase the stranger off if he did not live up to Kroc's expectations and prove himself worthy of joining Ouroboros Spine. Velvety smoky black ears swiveled towards the Beta Female before moving to the stranger as he replied, the whale remained silent and he allowed the foreign words the two of them spoke to pass through his head. He made sure to remember the words, even if he did not know their meaning, after all, he might be able to ask her what the words meant after this was over.

Arverk shifted his weight between his paws, and fixed his bright ocean blue eyes on the large stranger in front of him.

No worries! And I understand, it's kind of hard to find the best translation to fit what your character wants to say, lol. :p

Aside from the glimpse spared in the ebony male's direction when he shifted his weight, the soft shuffle of the movement catching the Hunter's keen ears, which perked and pivoted to either side of his skull; aside from that Kingumut's attention remained focused upon the ivory woman asking the questions. Her demand for him to prove himself did not come wholly unexpected. It was not just Tartok's standards that a pack require those seeking to count themselves among it's ranks to prove themselves. Or so Kingumut had been led to believe, anyway. Tartok was all that he knew, and erring to the side of frankness all he cared to know. No other wolves would have the strength and dominance to hold him, he believed. His interests had never lain in outriding so he was not extremely well versed in packs outside of Tartok. He didn't need to be, as far as he cared. He was a Hunter, and the only time he paid attention to wolves outside of Tartok was when he was observing a target. Mostly, he tracked herds but there was always an occasional wolf that had wronged Tartok, and dutifully the Hunter would seek his prey. What it was he was hunting was never of a consequence to him: he was loyal and to the most dominate: obedient. 

“Aquijuq.” Hunt. “I track. Prey...” He paused and added, “and wolves.” Both were equally important; and if she truly was Tartok then Kingumut assumed she would understand. Wolves could not be allowed to do what they wanted to Tartok and take no consequences for their actions; and prey was their life source. Without it there would be no food chain for them to perch themselves atop of.

Edit: @Kingumut Since @Arverk is on absence and this is a joining thread, you can go ahead and post. Normally we would wait but joining threads take precedence! :)

His words continued, his deference to her consistent. But Nanuk was not yet impressed. He spoke of tracking but there was a gaping hole in the picture so far and before she would let him make any move to impress, she would discover the reasons. The how, and why. No attention was given to the rain that steadily beat down on them, past the silent acknowledgement that it had been falling all day. 

Not even the greatest tracker could follow a scent that had washed away. She switched to the common tongue, her voice laced with the beginnings of an untrusting snarl. "There is no scent trail after a long rain. What the fuck makes you think we are what you seek?" her crass vulgarity was not hidden from him. She was the boss right now and could talk however she wanted, especially if it got the answer she demanded of him. 

Ah, ok! :3

The ivory leader held his attention until aside from the subtle shift of movements the ebony male watching was almost forgotten about. Not entirely, of course, but Kingumut's attention remained focused upon where it belonged. Her. She misunderstood him, he understood as soon as she spoke, another snarl tearing loose from her lips. He had not meant to insinuate that he'd tracked anyone here because he hadn't. It was true he'd wandered in the general direction Aariak had gone in but the youngest of the Tartok brothers had left days before Kingumut had decided he would continue on, leaving the middle brother with Uncle and his never ending stories. Uncle had interesting stories, worthy of hearing but as a man of little words Kingumut sometimes found his Uncle's love of words to be unnecessary; and at any rate Kingumut was sure he could recite them word for word in his sleep by now if he wished to (he did not wish to, as it stood). He should have been more specific he saw now, but specifics where words were concerned was not his specialty. He was not graced with a silver tongue, and favored cryptic over honey. A soft frown played at the edges of the Hunter's lips as he considered the best way to explain himself without further earning her ire. 

“I did not track any wolf here,” He clarified in a low, admitting rumble, keeping his posture low to show that he recognized her dominance in this situation. “My brother headed in this general direction some days ago but as you spoke his trail is long gone.” Kingumut gave pause here, before he spoke once more, “I do not know that you are Tartok, but you speak the language and the strongest scent on your borders strikes me as familiar.” He could not place a name to the scent. While it was true that Tartok was likely not the only pack that spoke Inuit (again he didn't know) he hadn't heard many other wolves speak it, in the rare occurrence that he forced himself to interact with any outside of Tartok. This did not look well, he recognized, how this was going, and he still hadn't found the answer to his question: were the wolves here Tartok or were they not? Regardless, Kingumut remained patient for there was little else he felt he could do.

He didn't understand her question. Something had drawn him here and there was no scent in the ground to do that for him. The male said he hadn't tracked anyone here but he also mentioned a scent on their borders. Nanuk's growl deepend. "Maybe you're deaf. It's been raining since before the fucking sun rose meaning there is no scent. We are all noseblind right now." Her tail lashed behind her once or twice as she took a meaningful and threatening step forward. "So let's try this again, motherfucker. How long have you been lurking around our borders because there's no way in fuck that you can smell anything right now." He obviously had reasons that he had called for them, as there were several other packs in this 'general direction'. Needless to say, King was losing ground. Fast. Not because Kroc was being a bitch but because their future was nestled in the womb of their Alpha and she would take no chances. There would be none here that they didn't trust.

I just always assumed they could smell the borders regardless (or at least were aware of pack presence) *is dumb* lol. Oopsie. :x

The pale woman ghosted forward, closer to him, the growl in her throat resounding deeper, the threat clear to him in the taunt pull of muscles beneath her ivory coat. Words had never been anything Kingumut had been particularly talented with, nor intelligent with. Words took away what made them excelling predators. He believed it would strip away the strength of instinct which was why he was a man of instinct and body language and little else. This was why he did not like words. They could be deceptive, but they could also make a huge mess of everything. They could be misinterpreted. From Kingumut's standpoint neither one of them seemed to be understanding the other. His Hunter's patience was beginning to wear down; but he kept it in place for she had not answered his question. Would she have told him 'no we are not Tartok' he would have left half a conversation ago, but she did not. Neither did she affirm it. He was stuck on the cusp of truth and his assumptions — which clearly was not a good place to be. “Mannaugivva,” Not long He responded truthfully, part of the Tartok wondering why he bothered. Clearly this wasn't going well. Tartok was family, no matter what, but he did not feel like family. “We can, we will; The strong survive.” He spoke the Tartok mantra to her, though there was that sliver of doubt that hissed that he was wasting his breath with her.

Perhaps these wolves were not Tartok after all. Perhaps he'd been wrong. It would be a disappointment to come to that conclusion but it was the only one he could currently foresee; lest the tides turned in his favor. He did not repeat his question for he thought it would be largely necessary. He gave out only what he believed he was allowed and nothing more. Tartok didn't give away details of their inner workings; and suspicion wasn't enough to make him believe.

*dumps in casually because why not*

The whisper of voices had drawn her in, though in all reality they were far from whispers. From a distance, Echelon could pick up on the distinct differences. One of the gruff Nanuk and one unfamiliar as they came. She had been dawdling about the borders with feigned interest, not entirely maintaining them but keeping a watchful eye out all the same. The warmth of the day was far from crisp, but something about it was less than it had been. Perhaps it was less humid, she couldn't have said. By now, all the days bled together in some fashionable form that was just as indescribable to her as it would have been to anyone who heralded from the north.

Which from the conversation she was picking up as she drew in closer, was perhaps the case here. She knew the northern tongue well, knew how it's dialects branched off and evolved through the generations. Which for wolves, was not a long time at all on the grand scale of things. They were all but grains of sand on the cosmic line, and that was all they would ever be. But Echelon was hardly as in depth about this as her inner thoughts may have been, and frankly all those thoughts were good for was to pass the time.

She narrowed in her approach, drawing the figures into light though the shadows of the woodland canopy speckled them midst haze and heat. She drew in damp scents, too damp to discern from anything that could have screamed this is ours. And yet, someone else had come calling. Someone else that claimed to have the blood of Tartok running through their veins. For a change of pace, perhaps a slight even to the hot-blooded grumbling of her pale counterpart, she beckoned to him in their native tongue and forewent any sense of rank and protocol.

"You doubt us," she murmured, raising her own muzzle to draw in the dampness and old signs of travel. "Why do you think we would even take one of our own in so easily?" While she did not doubt the validity of his claims yet, her scrutiny was open and wild. They had their reasons to be guarded and harsh, as they were a hardy few within the breadth of their reign thus far.

Echelon approached and had obviously overheard the 'conversation' taking place. With the dark coywolf's attention foremost on Kingumut, Kroc made no move to force her to display deference to her rank. It was not something she would normally let slide, but the creature was not going to put such things on display for the unknown male. Still, she kept her posture, tail high and her ears erect as he was questioned further, despite his desperate, last ditch attempt to convince her of his intentions. 

Why he thought that she would just blurt out that they were Tartok was beyond her but with the puppies on the way, she would be hard on all that came to join them. There would be no untrusted teeth near their soft, vulnerable bodies. Soon after the pups came, Winter would be upon them and they needed loyal wolves who would not turn on them or disappear just because the times got hard.

I'm too lazy to use the translator this morning so the text in italics in Inuit, lol. Also, crap post is crap but I wanted to get a reply up quickly before I left to go grocery shopping.

The ebony male's presence had not diminished to Kingumut but his attention had been held captive by the ivory female, though it shifted with the glimpse of mahogany red eyes in the direction of the new female as she made her entrance into the scene. Two to one had made the odds higher, but with three to one the odds did not seem to be in Kingumut's favor in the least. The ebony woman spoke to him in Tartok's native tongue, speaking that he doubted them to be Tartok, which had given the hunter the answer he had sought previously. So they were Tartok. “Suspicions are not enough to hold up to fact,” As any logical creature knew. He could have suspected that they were Tartok and been dead wrong and vice versa; though it was nice to suspect and be correct. He had thought there had been familiarity, especially because he did not often socialize with wolves outside of the Tartok branches (if his interaction could truly be seen as 'social' at any rate). “Tartok is family, no matter what branch you belong to.” To not accept family was absurd, and defeated the purpose of claiming to be a family. If they would turn away fellow Tartok then he would question if they were truly Tartok at all. “I will prove myself.” If they didn't believe him, and if they granted him a boon and accepted him. He knew his acceptance was not guaranteed, despite that he was Tartok, as they were. He understood what it meant to be apart of a pack, even a family oriented one as Tartok. Efficency was still valued. If they would have him, he would grant them the same skills that he granted Siku. For them he would track and he would hunt — the things he was best at doing.

"I am strong and I will aid in strengthening your Tartok. I will hunt, I am another set of eyes and ears upon the borders." He offered as an explanation though he wasn't sure if his reasons were enough. Possibly they were what every wolf said — but they were the skills he had to offer to them. "I will do whatever is asked of me."

my apologies for holding this up briefly. 20hr work weekends tend to suck my soul dry. i'm also permanently too lazy for a translator, haha.

While there were no doubts of who they were — Echelon never entirely one to confirm or deny such a thing — she was amused with his forthcoming request to prove himself. Did he really need somewhere to belong so badly? Yet for all that he may have known, she found her own curiosity insatiable by far.

"From what branch are you?" she pressed him, their native tongue rattling off as though she spoke nothing else. It felt good to some degree, simply to converse this way. She would take her time prying just to hear it, instead of bending to the whims of those she had to pick more common tongues for. "What brings you here?" Whatever his validity or lack thereof, she was interested in what had brought him here. If he was truly dispatched from somewhere else, then there must have been a reason. Branches of their sprawling domain did not simply dissolve or break, but the individuals therein were oft sent elsewhere. Like seedlings, in a way. She would not deny him his audience or desire to prove his worth, but if he had deserted in search of another powerful locale, she did not anticipate things working out in any favor other than one that appeased herself.

And as though to punctuate such, she ran her tongue over her teeth.

Again, the question wasn't answered, not truly. He prattled on about what he could do and why he thought they should just welcome them with open arms. If he knew anything about Tartok, he would know that they were scurrilous of all that came to their borders, whether they claimed to be one of them or not; Kroc had never doubted his identity or his claim to be of the Northern faction. She just didn't trust him for the words that he said to consistently contradict himself, or the fact that he had snuck around their borders like a snake instead of coming to them first off. 

But she waited to interject, listening to their exchange with open ears. Either he would be accepted into their fold or not, but his answers were important and she would hear them out. 

“Siku's branch,” The hunter offered the ebony woman his straight forward reply. The exchange of words was not appearing to work much in Kingumut's favor, which while it made perfect sense to him in regards to his total lack of regard for them he understood that he felt as if they were talking in circles. The questions asked and his answers provided, but his unwilligness to put stock in language aside from body language he felt the frusteration tug at him when his answers did not seem to satisfy. Perhaps he simply didn't understand. Kingumut knew his role in Tartok, he did his job, whatever Siku — and when they left her to settle in another branch with their Uncle as their “leader” — had asked of him. “To settle,” The same thing he had told the ivory woman. “My two brothers, our Uncle and myself. He pushes us to move so that we can find a branch to settle in.” To say that Kingumut knew Uncle's reasons for the push to move branches would be a lie. He didn't pretend to know why the older male pushed them to it; only that he did and they obeyed. Surely, the older warrior had his reasons and it was likely little more than the sake that they were family, and that his uncle knew more things about Tartok than Kingumut could ever aspire to know. His stories were grand things, if not overtold. Though Kingumut knew himself to be capiable (or perhaps assumed himself to be?) there was a part of him that wished his Uncle was there right now. Things would have surely gone much smoother. Kingumut had not been graced with a love of words and it currently showed; but he was a Hunter not a wordsmith.

At the mention of Siku, her interest was piqued. She offered a sidelong glance to Nanuk as a mere gauge of reaction. Whatever that may have been she may not have watched long enough, instead letting her gaze roll back to the wolf before them as he continued speaking. She saw past him to the verdant growth, but no others seemingly materialized from it. He was alone, at least for now.

Either way, this one wasn't the leader of the merry band and in turn, she felt disinclined to discuss much. "Call them," she chuffed, bobbing her head. If they sought a place to go and they were of Tartok truly, then she assumed they would be close by. It was better to examine the whole piece than just the details at times, and she decided this was one of those times. If Siku had deployed them, it came as little wonder to her that she would send wolves to come and scout on them. Tonravik was her daughter, and Siku herself had ejected Echelon back into the world to find her when they had been separated.

She surmised this was nothing more than another set of watching eyes.

There was a shared glance between the pale bear and her companion. Siku. It was a name forever engraved in her mind as the dark woman had taken her in long before Tonravik ever had; This was not to say Nanuk respected the daughter of the true Issumator any less than her mother. An ear flickered but overall, the Beta gave no outward response, instead letting her attention focus as the hybrid commanded that he call his supposed traveling companions. It was a good idea and Kroc enforced it with her silence, standing steadfast as she waited to see how he would respond this time, her tail doing a impatient/intolerant dance once every so often. Then again, that summed up her personality quite nicely anyway. 

"Well?" She rumbled in their tongue, gold eyes staying locked to his soggy form.

Heyo! I was asked to hop in here by Steph :P

Settling in had been just as simple as he had expected. Having traveled so far away from his original pack, this place still felt like home, but in fact,, he had never left home. Wherever his paws landed was home if he was with those of his own blood, and this place was just as Tartok as any other branch he'd been to.

Or so he thought.

Aariak had no doubt that the howl that rang at the borders was of no one else than his brother, Kingumut, and had he been closer he would have arrived way before everyone else, but by the time he ran down the hills of the ring-like spine and moved to the place where his brother had called, three wolves already stood there, rejective and inquisitive. What the hell was going on?

Aariak walked past the dark one with blue eyes, his tail low as his rank demanded, but relaxed knowing that there was no threat like his comrades thought. He didn't go beyond the Beta nor the other female, but he greeted his brother with a nod from the distance. There would be time for more later if he was able to convince them that he was of Tartok blood as any of them, and that he was not a danger -at least to this pack.

"Is there a problem?" he asked to no one specifically, never meaning a challenge with his tone. He was in no position for that. His eyes were always set on his pale brother rather than any of the Spine wolves, he didn't want them to think he meant anything beyond his literal words.

Things did not appear to get any better for Kingumut when the request was made for him to call his two brothers and Uncle. To tell them the truth was to make him seem like a liar, he couldn't help but think. He couldn't call for them. He didn't know where his youngest brother had ended up, having left several days before Kingumut himself had been sent off by their Uncle, and the other two he'd left behind. Definitely out of howling range. He was at an utter loss on what to do. “I can't,” The Tartok replied honestly, albeit gruffly. “Uncle sent me ahead of him and my brother,” He got the pit feeling that his honesty would cost him; that he'd set the trap up and had set it off on himself, unable to break free. Either way, he would look like a liar so he afforded them the honesty that they deservede as Tartok; even if it cost him. “I don't know where my youngest got to, he left several days before Uncle sent me,” It'd been assumed that he'd found a Tartok branch and that he'd settled for there had been no reason to believe otherwise. Now, Kingumut was burdened with doubt.

Unease settled within the Hunter's stomach, showing just how much he was truly outnumbered now as a figure appeared in the distance, closing in on the small group that had came to be his reception. Death was not something that Kingumut inherently feared; but he knew the odds were not in his favor and with each moment they looked less favorable than previous. Except this figure he knew. “Aariak,” Kingumut spoke his youngest brother's name, acknowledging him as much as he could while remaining submissive to the two women and their silent watch dog. “Brother.” It might not have been all of them, but surely one brother who was already apart of the pack was better than none at all, which was what Kingumut would have been able to provide them with, though the fault, he thought, was hardly his.

Jumping the post order with Ku's permission so we can wrap this up and so @Kingumut can participate in the BWP with the pack! Slight PP of Aariak. Let me know if you want it changed!

While the Beta was not always a well-spoken creature, she knew, too, that words could and often did carry more meaning. He had not been careful with his words before, had not thought before speaking. Now, he did, and it showed. He offered an explanation as to why he could not call for his companions. Nanuk took this in with narrowed, suspicious eyes. 

But her gaze broke with the approach of another, his posture acknowledging his place in the pack. This one spoke as if he knew who the one at their borders was. Kingumut confirmed this by speaking the white one's name and their relation. Aariak's body language confirmed the other's story, that they were brothers. The Beta was mostly satisfied, but that was not to say he had her trust yet. 

"I am Nanuk. That's Echelon. Our alphas are Iqniq and Tonravik." While he was Tartok, his lingering around the pack without coming forward was what made her uneasy but she was done piddling around with this foolishness. "You have two moons to prove yourself loyal and trustworthy to Ouroboros Spine. If you are not, I will run you out myself." With her warning given, she stepped aside, her chin lifting to invite him into the pack lands.

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