Nova Peak spin city

Anyone from the pack welcome. :) Pups welcome to have followed mom.

Instinct told Bazi to hide, but curiosity pushed her to find high ground and investigate. She scaled Nova Peak via one if the friendlier paths to the top - a natural ladder that revealed itself if you know what you were looking for. The coming storm had washed the colour out of the world, and the skies were dark and heavy. Something was about to happen, but Bazi had neither the experience nor the imagination to guess at what that might be.

She settled near the edge of a sheer drop, facing the distant ocean. A dramatic storm front was on the approach, vast and flashing as it crept ever closer. Already, Bazi was struggling to keep her ears upright, and something told her that this was not the best place to be standing. That feeling would soon be confirmed.

He scaled after his mate – she was not in sight, but her scent was fresh. He found her, her stark ivory form sheer against the storm clouds that raged in the sky, and he felt an unsettled pit growing in his stomach. He came to her side, his muzzle brushing her shoulder as he allowed a few moments of quiet to settle over them. “We should prepare,” he mused quietly, knowing the storm could also be a dud – it looked bad now, but it was possible it would miss them altogether. If they were lucky, it would knock the Blackfeather Woods pack right out of Teekon Wilds.
 
But he liked to be prepared.

"We should prepare." Scimitar's voice was punctuated by a sharp crack of thunder. Bazi barely winced, but folded both ears protectively against her narrow skull. "We do," she agreed, gazing out at the gathering storm. Silence followed between the two wolves as they watched and waited for their cue to get moving - they were already home, and the forest they already inhabited offered the best protection for miles around.

"We need to prepare.. other things, too. Longer term," Bazi said then, turning to look at her mate. There was concern in her eyes, but it shared space with a determined glint that hadn't surfaced much since the drama days of Swiftcurrent Creek. "I'm worried about the kids. They're so soft, and sweet, and after what Saena said about those Blackfeather wolves.. I think we should start training them. I think we should start training them now." She gazed at him, hopeful, bright white against the darkening land. "I don't want them to grow up thinking it's acceptable to waltz up to a stranger and say 'hey there'. They aren't wanderers, like we were - they don't have to be weak."

She spoke, drawing his attention from the clouds and back to her slender features. Her words struck his own thoughts with haunted clarity, and he gave a small nod, feeling her own fear in the heart of his chest. “We have all grown soft since the move,” he determined then, a frown falling upon his features. “We don’t even spar anymore.”
 
He hadn’t thought of that for a while now – yet he and Bazi had sparred a few times in the past. He used to spar as good practice with all of his pack mates before their trek to the Peak. “We should make it so that every wolf in Nova Peak is required to hold either the warden or warrior trade,” he determined then, glancing back to her to see what she thought of the idea.

Bazi nodded along to his response. Swiftcurrent Creek had kept them both on their toes - but here, hidden away in the forest, they had not faced a single danger. She had not told Scimitar of Swift's run-in with a mountain lion (and wagered that her son had not mentioned it either) - mostly because it had been so clumsy.  It was one of many reasons she was sitting here now, saying the things she was saying.

"I'd like that," she agreed. Whittier desperately needed to lose some weight, and warrior training would do him good. A good scare would do him good, too, the mother thought cruelly. Thus far, Whittier had not been forced to defend himself against anything more dangerous than a wet fart.

A strange smile visited the white queen's face. She half-turned towards her mate, and with mischief in her voice said, "Don't you think it's funny, that we're so much better when there's something to fight, or do?"

The irony of her words were not lost on him, and neither was the mischievous tone she used. It was almost alarming at how well the pack had thrived under pressure and danger – now, they sat about.. twiddling their thumbs.
 
Of course, her words could have also implied their mateship. The two of them had lived through drama their entire courtship – and prior. Now, it was almost as if they didn’t know what to do with one another. His eyes drifted to the storm, watching it brew before casting her his own mischievous glance. “Want to spar, like the old days?” Could she still beat him? He would place his money on her.

"Want to spar, like the old days?" Bazi's face brightened. The devious look intensified. "You dare challenge me?" she asked, hiking up a brow. Bazi could not remember if he had beaten her last time, but assumed - rather arrogantly - that he hadn't. Such a colossal failure would surely have lived on in her memory.

Without waiting for a response, she stepped back from the edge and fell into a the customary play-bow that preceded a battle.

She took well to his idea – and he felt a wry grin pull at his lips as she arched her wolfish brows up and hunkered down – for a stolen moment, the she-wolf he had first fell in love with stood before him, longing for the challenge.
 
He would not go first. Instead, his own form lowered as his paws widened their step – bracing himself for the little spitfire. His muzzle swung lower, protecting his nape, and his eyes locked upon her, noting that she should make the first move.

Though, he probably needed the advantage of going first, given her speed alone.

Bazi was accustomed to leading - particularly where the uneasy waltz of their relationship was concerned. He fought her less and less these days, metaphorically speaking, and Bazi knew they were losing each other.

Scimitar braced himself for the first attack - his fleet-footed wife skittered left and right, assessing him for weakness. Eventually, she just lunged at him, teeth half-bared and tail lashing behind her.

She made to move, a feint to the left and the right, and then fully lunged at him. The large wolf knew better than to dodge his agile wife, and so he swung his form to the side, attempting to close back upon her with a swing of his heavy shoulder – trying to push her.
 
His muzzle lowered and his muzzle swung to her chest to latch upon fur and gently upon skin and tug – more fiercely than if they were playing, but nothing to break her skin. They had not sparred since long before the pups were born – not since they had both remained below Fox within the hierarchy at Swiftcurrent Creek.
 
He could no more determine what move she would make next in a fight than he could emotionally.

Predictably, Scimitar stood his ground, counting on force of weight to keep him grounded. They collided soundlessly, their scuffle muted by the winds - this far off the ground, they truly howled. Bazi yipped when Scimitar's teeth clamped down on her skin, returning his attack with a sharp bite to his surviving ear, hind legs scrabbling to push him away - or over.

His grasp took hold, but the moment her own sharp teeth found their way to his good ear, he released to duck, trying to pull her grip from him. He was sensitive about his ears now – but it would not deter an actual opponent from trying to match the other one to mirror his left ear.
 
Once more, he tried to roll his weight in to her to cause her to stumble and release her hold from his lobe – otherwise, he would need to tug it away.

His play succeeded - Bazi lost her footing, but instead of being  bowled over, she wrapped both front legs around Scimitar's thick neck and held on for dear life; his ear was still between her teeth - though she held it more loosely now. She relocated her grip to the skin of his cheek, nipping and gnawing whilst her hind legs paddled ineffectually at his knees.

Bazi had always been one to surprise him, and this was no different. Refusing to be pushed over, the lissome she-wolf instead gripped on to him, holding on to him for dear life with her back legs kicking at him. His ear remained firmly lodged in her mouth, and unable to even pull that now, Scimitar could only imagine how awkward the two of them might appear to any onlooker.

Unable to withhold a fit of laughing, Scimitar's sides shook with it, and he found his stance unsteady. Trying not to buckle, and certainly not giving in to how adorable she truly was, Scimitar attempted to maintain the spar, bending his forelimbs down to try to even smush her in to the ground and pin her.

After a little while, even Bazi started to laugh - she looked like the Ice Age squirrel, desperately holding on to a head-sized acorn. The side of Scimitar's head was slick with drool now, and the ear slid from her grasp as she gasped for air between burst of cackling laughter.

It was all so ridiculous. All  of it.

Scimitar's play succeeded. Bazi found herself wedged between a literal rock and a fluffy but firm place, paddling her paws at the top of her mate's head like a pup. "Stop! Mercy!" she roared, wailing with laughter now. Above them, the storm had really gathered pace - and if they had paid more attention, the two wolves might have noticed the faint beginnings of a spiral in the clouds.

Storm clouds brewed behind them – ominous in appearance, and Scimitar missed the faint flash of lightning in the distance, as his face remained buried in his mate’s nape as he laughed. He fell closer to the ground more clumsily now, and she called for mercy in between her own laughter – something the two had not shared for quite some time.
 
Pulling back, he released his captive, his tail swinging through the air as he cast a lopsided grin to Bazi. Planting a sloppy kiss upon her cheek, he gave a nip to her ear playfully, encouraging her up. His gaze would drift back to the storm, noting it was time to round up their five little troops and tuck them safely away in the den for the night.. and he would check in on Kaskara and Kieran before joining them.

It took the giggling pair a few minutes to compose themselves. Bazi got to her feet, shook the loose dirt from her fur, and returned her mate's affections with fussing of her own. Their time alone was drawing to a close; one did not need a master's degree in meteorology (or even more than two senses and half a brain) to know that it was going to rain.

Enthused by their plans to sculpt an army out of their children, and determined that even Whittier would become a useful member of the pack, Bazi made silent plans to attack the coming day with renewed gusto. It was time to change - to be better; for the sake of her mate and her children.

Of course, those plans would never come to pass.

Still exchanging laughter and the occasional flirtatious nip to the rear, the two wolves picked their way down the side of the mountain to attend to their young.