Dragoncrest Cliffs fold the paper, hamburger hamburger

@Artaax I hope you don't mind. :3

It had taken a few hours or so for Hux to build his den. He located it just along the treeline on the eastern side of the lake, a safe distance from potentially high water, but close enough so that he could hear the breathy song of the lake while he drifted off to sleep.
He did his work easily, having dug many a den before. Throughout his life, Hux had gotten bored of sleeping in one place all the time, and so he moved every few months or so. He anticipated feeling the same way here, but still, he wished for a spot that he wouldn't mind returning to for a while.
The snowy wolf finished his den with a huff, taking a few steps back from it to marvel at his work. It would be a fine place to call his own. He half-smiled at himself, when the rustle of the underbrush alerted him of another creature nearby. Hux froze, tail a high flag over his back, eyes darting. He doubted anything was amiss, but the disturbance itself made him anxious, nevertheless.

Not at all! I can't remember who I'm allowed to PP following Artaax around so I just kinda guessed :D

There was a new guy in their midst. Artaax had heard about him through his moms and was eager to see what the stranger was all about. And so, when @Arlo accompanied him further away from Hougeda than he was usually allowed to go on his own, the aspiring hunter nonchalantly lead them along a path that had started out very winding, but suddenly became straight and purposeful when Artaax finally caught the scent he'd been searching for.

Artaax crept silently up on the new wolf, leaving his caretaker behind to watch with quiet amusement. He did his best not to make a sound as he moved through the underbrush, but it didn't exactly work. He frowned at the noise he was making and wasn't surprised when Hux suddenly froze and began casting his gaze about, searching for the source of the noise (i.e. Artaax). The boy tensed and held steady, going as far as to slow his breathing in an effort to avoid being caught. He would greet the stranger eventually, of course - he was pack now, and pack was family. But for now, he just wanted to spy on him like a creep, and glean what he could about this newcomer.

The rustling of the foliage does not seem loud enough to be made by a large and dangerous creature, but Hux knows he could be mistaken. To make assumptions is rarely a good thing, and so he stands alert, preparing himself for the worst, the fur along his ruff lifting stiffly. The noise stops briefly. Perhaps the creature detects his fear. Hux twitches his nose, sniffing the air, and detects the scent of another canine. This relaxes him a little, and then, the snowy wolf lowers his ears and calls softly into the forest

"H-hello? Anyone there?"

sorry about the horrendous wait!

Artaax knew that the goal was to not be detected by his quarry. And yet, his eyes narrowed and his grin sharpened as the stranger's hackles prickled along is spine and he turned to cast his gaze about. The boy's heart thrummed with excitement as the other wolf's voice slipped across the still air between the trees. He had no plan to attack his new packmate, which was fortunate. Fortunate for Artaax, of course, for it would obviously have been him in a world of hurt and not Hux no matter how unprepared the latter would be.

Pride swelled within him at his successful stalkery, and so Artaax straightened as he crept forward and emerged from the thicket a few yards ahead of where Hux stood. He lfited his chin as he stood tall before the newcomer, tail wagging and face beaming with a smile. "It's me!" he announced with a happy little wriggle of his bum, "Artaax. I heard about you." He tilted his head slightly, trying to show off yet again over how he knew of Hux and he was so very certain Hux did not know of him. One day, he'd learn that it was an even more impressive thing to have one's reputation precede them. But for today, he thought his lack of popularity to be something of merit.

It is not that Thuringwethil does not trust Hux when it comes to the children—her children—of Drageda and more along the lines of having something else planned. Any member of Drageda, especially those that hail from her former kingdom, are trusted enough to be part of their lives and she’d just as easily trust this brute as she would Dio.

As she follows her son’s trail, and finds Hux along the way, she shifts her tail above her spine but it still sways back and forth. Artaax has already found the other, and taken his attention, and Thuringwethil shoots him an apologetic look as she lopes up close and puts her nose to the back of the pale boy’s head. “Hei,” she says, more gruffly than intended, “komba.” Another look to the kru sends him away wordlessly and she jerks her head, turning quickly in a purposeful direction.

Hux seemed to be sufficiently surprised by Artaax's appearance. The boy grinned at the newcomer, beaming with pride over his accomplishment. But neither he nor the older wolf had a time to speak before all attention was taken was the Heda's entrance. Artaax's posture fell slightly in the presence of the commander. His smile softened as he turned to look at her, his ears dipping back as she touched his crown. He reached to lick her chin as she lifted her head again and beckoned him. With a slight cant of his head, he hurried after her, forgetting all about Hux as the other wolf left.

Artaax was silent as he followed Thuringwethil through the trees, even though curiosity had consumed him. He didn't ask where it was they were going or what they were doing, knowing from experience that he would find out eventually if he simply remained dutiful and patient.

Hux continues about his business without much fuss and Artaax follows along in the same fashion. Every so often she glances back to see his form close. She’s sure yesterday he was three inches shorter. Seeing him now in his steadier gait, he’d shot up overnight. One ear flickers upon her head and she’s suddenly worrying he’ll gain an inch each time she looks at him. Tightening her jaw, she returns her attention forward and picks up her face when the smell finally reenters his nose.

“There is a rabbit den not far from here,” she urges, slowing to a stop. “The wind is blowing against us, so they won’t be able to smell us as fast. If you creep up slow enough, you might find some outside and catch them off guard,” she instructs and hovers back, lowering to the ground and directing him with a point of her nose.

Just as he'd anticipated, Thuringwethil eventually explained what it was they were doing. Artaax felt the thrill of excitement at hearing it was a hunt they were on. Without even realizing, his posture shifted into curious meanderer into creeping hunter - not that it had far to go. Hunting seemed to consume him these days, and so he often moved about the territory with his head slung low and paws sweeping near silently over the ground. He was anxious to earn the rank of Dragedakru, and determined to be the first of the pups to do so. He wouldn't pass up a single opportunity to advance himself towards that goal, even when he was just romping about in the woods.

Artaax mirrored Thur's movements as she stopped and shifted her posture. He listened intently to her words, then turned his gaze in the direction she gestured with focused, narrowing eyes. He needed no further prompting to creep forward through the brush, taking careful steps to avoid making any sound. As he moved, he made himself aware of every part of his body - his nose, his shoulders, his paws, all the way down to his tail. Every part of him moved purposefully towards his goal, which was his prey in theory, but ultimately he acted to impress the crap out of his nomi.

Speaking of which. Artaax paused as he came within range - spying a few of the long-eared critters hopping lazily about in the distance. He shifted his gaze to the side, trying to find the Heda. He did a great deal of hunting on his own, which didn't make him oblivious to the way the hunt worked with partners. It was important to determine her location, for that would tell him where he needed to move when he broke cover. At least, that's what an experienced hunter would be thinking. Artaax, being rather young still, just wanted to make sure that the commander would have a good view of the show when he murdered the shit out of all the bunnies for her.

Watching the children work through their problems has always been interesting. As Artaax found the baby fox and what he learned that day, Thuringwethil feels comfortable that he’ll figure this one out just as well. She watches as he creeps forward but she remains in the distance, her dark form settling into the shadows of the redwoods and local brush. She makes contact with the boy ones and she gives him only a nod to continue forth. If he’s able to keep up to speed with what he’s about to face, it’ll be easy for him to take one down. The creatures are fragile in ways that a single bite will kill them and Artaax is big enough now to handle that. Perhaps big enough for something more impressive than rabbits but starting small will build him up for more successes.

Movement catches her eye and she turns, wondering if Artaax will spot the same rabbit in the distance, curiously returning home. For the moment, it does not notice the wolves but it does draw out a second rabbit from the ground and her own mouth pools with salivation in anticipation.

Artaax hesitated when he saw that his mother didn't continue to follow. It was only a momentary pause, though. He was quick to realize that she was leaving this hunt up to him, and so his determination to succeed at this began to ramp up. He took in a deep breath to steady himself before prowling forward again.

With each step, the young hunter slipped deeper into the zone. The heda's presence fell to the back of his mind. His prey remained unaware that they were being stalked as they milled about, and Artaax was determined to keep it that way. He focused on moving silently and smoothly across the ground, mimicking the way that the ducks glided so effortlessly across the water. The hard work had seemingly paid off, for he managed to close the gap between himself and the rabbits to only a dozen or so yards. He stopped then to study each critter in turn, trying to determine his next move until his gaze landed on the pair of rabbits that Thur had spotted. Target acquired.

Occasionally she glances in Artaax's direction. When he notices he's alone in the hunt, she gives him a slight nod and she watches the way he moves silently. Thuringwethil stays back until she loses sight of half of her child and slowly she moves, inching closer until she can see both the pale boy and the pair of rabbits she spotted before. Without moving any more, her eyes dart back and forth between the prey and predator, anxious to see the result.

The young hunter was patient as he waited for his moment to break cover. The pair of rabbits he had chosen as targets were slow in making their way to where he wanted them, but eventually they meandered into a clearing between the trees just ahead of him. His muscles tensed in the seconds before he sprang, aiming to cut a line between the two groups of rabbits and split the two he wanted away from the others who would be darting in the direction of the warren and - incidentally - Thur.

The rabbits reacted quickly, as they often did. But Artaax had positioned himself to cut them off from the safety of their little holes in the ground, so their movements were uncertain, panicky and pretty stupid. There was definitely a quicker one of the two, and that one darted to the left while its slower counterpart pivoted right towards the nearest collection of trees. Artaax followed the latter, weaving in and out of tree trunks with a skill he had worked hard to hone - apparently far harder than the rabbit ever had.

It made quite a few missteps in the seconds before Artaax grabbed it, but he really only needed the one. Its legs were still kicking, attempting to propel it forward, when the pale youth lifted it into the air by its spine, which he snapped beneath his teeth shortly thereafter. He felt blood rush upon his tongue and began to grin while keeping his hold on its still flailing body.

It fought and shrieked for another fifteen seconds, even as he was turning to relocate Thuringwethil and show her his fresh prize.

Anticipation builds over the next several seconds and the instant Artaax takes off, Thuringwethil’s legs spring upward and in a step out of instinct but her eyes never leave the boy. His form, for as long as she can see, is impressive enough. If this is what he does in his spare time, it surely pays off. In the next moment, there’s a telltale squeal as Artaax snatches the rabbit nearly midair. The boy very much has the skill of his mother and a smile spreads wide across his features.

Thuringwethil stands at full height, tail curved over her spine but wagging back and forth while her chest swells with pride. “Os dula” she tells him when he reaches her, the rabbit hanging by a thread.

Artaax  stood tall as he trotted up to his mother, holding the rabbit high for her to see. The creature had finally fallen limp by the time he reached her, and he dropped it upon the ground before her once he was near enough. He looked at her with a happy grin, his tail wagging unabashedly. The hunt had been thrilling, even though it was not exactly his preferred prey. The praise laid upon him was just as gratifying as it ever was. He dipped his muzzle respectfully and made a quick gesture that suggested the catch was for her - a gift for his nomi, and commander.

Before Thuringwethil gets the chance to speak again, Artaax has lowered his head and dropped the rabbit at her feet. She gives it a glance and then her son a single, signature nod of appreciation but she does not take it. Instead, she takes a step back so that he can pick it up again. “It will go in the cache for the pack to benefit from later,” she tells him, licking her lips but she resists the basic need to devour. “Drageda is yours to take care of, just like the rest of us, and you will benefit from the others that do their part,” she says, turning her position to angle toward the nearest cache, giving him the chance to lead the way.

Artaax watched as his mother regarded with kill with nothing more than a glance. Confusion settled upon his face as she stepped away, and he searched her face to glean some understanding of why she was refusing his offer. She explained shortly, settling the feeling of rejection, but not that of disappointment. What she said made sense, but he still would have preferred the instant satisfaction of getting to see one of his family actually partaking in the prize he had won for them. Leaving it in a cache meant he might never know if it was consumed, or by who. If he didn't know that, then who would praise him for his contribution?

But, Artaax was a dutiful young wolf, and so he simply nodded and leaned down to collect the rabbit's carcass in his jaws. He followed her lead and set off towards the cache to stow the kill, all the while mulling over what she'd said about Drageda being his to take care of and slowly taking it way more literally than she'd probably intended.