Big Salmon Lake part of a system, a plan. [m-ish]

Just an eensy bit of language :x

What is it about tiny things that is just so frickin' cute? It is common conception among most that mice are disgusting, terrifying creatures. When you spot them in your home or on the street, hands-down the way to react is to shriek and run for the hills. Put a mouse in a cage in a pet store--cute as a button. It's all about perception and the environment in which you perceive the thing. A mouse in the corner of your bed? Terrifying. A mouse crawling around by your dinner? Disgusting. A mouse nibbling on a piece of grain on a log by the lake? Most adorable thing on the face of the planet.

Such was this little brown field mouse, enjoying topnotch lakeside dining as dusk fell on the horizon. His little ears were perked at attention, nostrils twitching warily, eyes round and wide and watching. Beside him lay his meal--a nice collection of grass seeds and nut fragments. Fodder in the eyes of squirrels or raccoons, but a veritable feast for a mouse whose head was no larger than the walnut the debris had started as. Now maybe some would think that little guy frightening even in its natural habitat, but for those who shared that habitat, he was as adorable as a newborn babe as he nibbled, reached with tiny fingers for a new nugget, and nibbled again.

Until he was unexpectedly and unceremoniously smashed dead under a massive tan paw.

Andrus was not one to consider a his own kind adorable, much less an insignificant mouse. He cupped his paw as he raised the dead bundle of "cuteness" and licked up the gore, smearing some on his paw and his muzzle in the process, but not really giving a fuck. It was hardly enough to satisfy a pup, but the warrior was grateful for it regardless. He had been too long without a contract, and thus too long without a meal much larger than a muskrat. His usually bold coat was growing dull, and he felt his skin like rags hanging from his thinning body. The old mercenary needed to serve again and soon before he wasted away to nothing more than a meaningless smear of flesh on a log by a lake.

The day began to peel back from the world to reveal the stars underneath. The lake was glowing with that special air that hung like a blanket on the world just before twilight, but eyes of flat steel saw none of its beauty. There was work to do, survival to be had, if he could only find it.

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I'm gonna say this occurs after Ptarmigan killed Jinx and before anyone from OS confronts her about her claiming howl.

She had dispatched the Alpha of a pack whose name she did not know. She had been undisturbed as she wandered back up the stout mountains and down the other side, presumably because the wolves in said pack were still conducting their affairs. Perhaps they hadn't heard the declaration of their new Alpha, and she need only summon them again.

Having thrown up a howl for Viggo with little more than a come hither, something grand has happened message, she had picked her way down the forested slope to the lake she had seen from afar. There was another lake hidden inside the territory she had just stolen from its sickly queen, but she needed some time alone before she was inevitably questioned by the pack wolves. Ptarmigan knew better than to expect them to have no questions.

She thought she would wade out into the lake and soak herself to the skin, but she was distracted from this course by the sight of a rather large animal picking at his paw. Her recent victory was cause for arrogance, and the much smaller Endore swept forward on fleet and quiet paws, drawing near enough that he would hear her clearly when she said, “toes are unhealthy, especially your own toes.”

Sounds good to me!

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It was just as Andrus had begun playing with the idea of raising his voice to the sky to let whatever packs that may have been nearby know of his presence when she came upon him. The grizzly retained his neutral posture as he looked upon her with cold eyes. He probably should have thought her beautiful, her confidence magnetic and her pride stunning. He should have wondered if someone had claimed such a woman as their mate, and whether or not he might have the skill to steal her away if so. Instead, Andrus thought her a wolf, and wondered only what use she could be to him.

"Toes are meat," the man rumbled in reply, "I eat meat." Andrus lifted his head and stood tall as he turned towards her. Part of him was testing this female, seeing how she would react to his unspoken challenge of dominance. He wanted to know what sort of woman this was, even though he already had his suspicions. "Though preferably not my own," he added casually after a moment of appraisal.

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If she thought more about the past than she usually did, she might have concluded that Andrus resembled Rodeo almost impeccably. Her father was wrapped in furs of the same mix of ginger, bronze, and chocolate, with similar dark ticking on his back, though Andrus' saddle was wider and deeper. This man was built thicker and stronger than her sire, but if she hadn't spent two years despising the man who brought her into the world for casting her into it alone and imagining his demise, it would have been an easy mistake.

The vagabond pointed out that toes were meat. She couldn't help but to giggle, even though he lifted himself into the stance of a proud wolf. Ptarmigan was brand new to "leadership", and though she might have been domineering within the borders of the pack she had just stolen and self-conscious of her position, out here she forgot that she was supposed to hold herself powerfully. She maintained a neutral posture, though she did manage to battle away the intrinsic instinct of subordination in light of her newest accomplishment.

“Such a people pleaser,” she quipped, latching on to his words and twisting them to her own immature fancy. If he ate his own meat, surely there would be men left wanting, or so was her inappropriate stream of thought. “Or should I say a man pleaser. It's very generous to... Eat... Their meat for them.”

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Andrus was pleased when his change of posture didn't elicit any ire from the female, though one would never have guessed by looking at him. He relaxed a bit knowing that this femme was not interested in playing any dominance games and listened as she spoke. There was a gleam in her eyes that told Andrus that she was poking fun, though whether at him or something else he didn't know. The russett man was a simple creature--all mass and muscle. There was a brain in his head, but not one he tended to use for unnecessary matters such as deciphering the intent of a stranger's jest.

Basically, he was no fun whatsoever.

"Indeed," the old bear replied shortly. Not one to beat around the bush, he barrelled forward with the conversation, skipping over what he considered to be meaningless banter and heading straight for the finish line. "Do you have a pack here, Miss...?"

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Although she had begun to chuckle at her own genius, the russet male didn't seem to find her jest amusing. In fact, he didn't seem to get it at all. This woman didn't make jokes all that often, and being left high and dry in the laughter department left her feeling a little put out. “You know,” she started to explain, “'cause guys have a meat rod...”

But all he did was say “indeed” and forge ahead into some other indeterminate topic. Ptarmigan pouted, but only long enough for him to ask if she had a pack. That put the brightness back into her smile, for she did in fact, and it was a great story. “Ptarmigan,” she began, and then added, “and I just drowned an Alpha so I guess that means I do have a pack.”

At least in her own mind, it did. By the laws of nature, it did. She didn't realize that it didn't mean that in the eyes of the Spine wolves, who by now were surely trying to hunt her down and skin her for killing their queen (she imagined).

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You know, cause guys have a meat rod... Andrus stared at her blankly, though the queer image of himself sitting with a long stick made of tender, pink meat dangling from his salivating jaws did flash in his mind for a moment. Her displeasure was lost on him, so eager was he to know more about where she came from and what needs she might have. The mouse had been a tiny morsel for such a big wolf. He needed a real meal, and to accomplish that, he needed a pack. Size was excellent, but it did make him slow. Slowness meant you couldn't catch large prey, and that meant you starved.

Ptarmigan's story was a bit surprising, but moreso it left him very curious. One, about her and what sort of wolf could speak of drowning someone with such delight. Two, what did it mean she supposed she had a pack now that she'd killed an alpha? Did she believe murder gave her the right to lead? And three, which was a thought that knocked the other two straight out of his head, what sort of reception was she expecting from this pack she believe that she'd inherited? That was where he saw a glimmer of opportunity.

"This alpha you drowned... Did you belong to his pack before his death?" Andrus questioned, his head canting slightly from intrigue.

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edit: Fixing his question so that it makes sense to what she said

Yes, Ptarmigan did seem rather pleased with herself. She should probably have been more mortified over having murdered someone, but by the time she got to Jinx, there had been little of the wolf left. “She was sick, I think,” Ptarmigan clarified when the male's head tilted, “so I did them a favour.” Although there was a part of her wholly expecting the pack to skin her from head to toe, there was another part of her that expected a celebration in her honour for ridding them of their plague.

“Not at all,” she replied when Andrus questioned her. “I was planning to dig up a cache and steal their stuff when I found her.” The compulsion to drown her was left unsaid. She thought the opportunity to usurp the pack was more than evident in her story, and that Andrus would understand her motives... Despite the fact he had so far given little evidence of understanding implication at all.

Andrus listened closely to her story. Apparently this alpha was sick--and it was a she. So Ptarmigan had vanquished the diseased and saved the pack from plague, had she? That was all well and good, he supposed. But if she had been so sick, why hadn't the pack taken care of itself? If all it took was to hold the woman underwater, why had none at this pack been able to step up to the rescue? The bear came to the conclusion that it was because no one had wanted to murder their alpha--or more like, their queen.

The man eyed his new companion thoughtfully. "Well, you certainly succeeded in that," he replied. Surely she had intended on stealing their meat, but instead she had stolen the whole damn pack. "So you think this makes you their leader then," Andrus stated, not in an accusatory or judgmental way. Whatever the woman truly felt was unknown to him, but he had a good sense that his suspicions were not far off.

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“Naturally,” Ptarmigan affirmed, letting no doubt slip into her tone. If she for a second believed that the pack would reject her, having killed their Alpha, there was no indication of it. The Endore thought that that was how the world worked: you were born into leadership, or you somehow passed into it. Either you were chosen as an heir or you seized it for yourself. In this case, she had taken it.

“It is only proper,” she added. Maybe the pack had other plans, or the Alpha female had an heir that would battle for the pack, or maybe she would get her ass handed to her immediately... But her short-sightedness kept that far from her thoughts at present.

"Of course," the man found himself saying in response to her confident affirmation. Her tone left no room to question her further, so Andrus felt no need to do so. He studied her for a moment longer, then made a decision.

"Well, I would think a budding alpha would need herself a strong arm at her side," Andrus said as he got to his feet and closed some of the distance between them. "I do not know the wolves of this pack, and they do not know you. But I do know that every alpha needs loyal subjects, and for a roof, a share of the meals, and a decent rank, I can assure you you'll find a very loyal, and very... hm... persuasive... subject in me."

No, Andrus was not one to pussy foot around things. He had deemed her need enough that she may likely accept his offer. More than that, she might even be able to offer him all of the things he had requested. One day. And if not, someone else would.

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The male stood, further emphasizing their size difference. He practically towered, while Ptarmigan was true to the stature of most Endore females: slight and compact. She gazed up at him pensively as he began to make his speech. His intentions were unlike any she had ever heard before, she who was uneducated in mercenary ways, but his demands were simple enough. The Endore made the rookie mistake of thinking these things would be easy to grant.

“You would have that and more,” she said slyly, “once I am secured.” She didn't think she would be without loyalty long. She held grand delusions in her head about the Ouroboros Spine wolves, never guessing that they were more savage than she, and vengeful to boot. “There is another whom I trust. His name is Viggo. He has travelled with me for some time now.”

“Help us to secure this pack and I will grant you rank, and you will have first pick of choice meats, shelter, and I will find a suitable woman to warm your den if you wish it.” But not her, of course. Ptarmigan didn't really believe in warming anyone's den or being a good wife, but then, she wasn't offering herself.

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Andrus listened silently as she accepted his terms, and even added to them. He made a mental note of the other man, Viggo. In his mind, he saw their heirarchy shifting. This male would be above him, for he assumed this wolf was not only loyal but actually bonded to her in some way. Andrus typically didn't bond with his employers, which always kept him right where he wanted to be--just beneath leadership but above all the rest. It was here he needed to be in order to keep them in line. Or such was his experience based on the work he had done over the years.

Rank, first pick of meals, shelter, and women. This female did have lofty ideas if she thought she would be able to deliver all of these things. Rank, food and a place to sleep was one thing, but to offer up her packmates was entirely another. Andrus didn't know much about this midnight she-wolf, but he had a good feeling about her. What was more, he liked her spirit. She was naive, maybe a little delusional, but confident in what she wanted and what she knew to be rightfully hers. If not a fruitful contract, it would be an interesting one at least.

The grizzly bear dipped his head in acceptance, the contract now officially made in his mind. "I'll do my best to make sure you get what is yours, Miss," Or at the very least, make sure you don't die trying to get it. "I trust this man, Viggo, is or will be as devoted to your cause?" He wondered what this trusted wolf was doing, leaving his companion alone long enough to murder an alpha and try to steal an entire pack of wolves. Maybe he didn't know he ought to keep a closer eye on this one.

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Having heard Ptarmigan's call, Viggo had gone as fast as he could to her, anticipation and excitement charging his heart to new levels. He did not know what news he had to share, but he was more than eager to hear of it. He had been staying at Stavanger Bay, though he knew that Ptarmigan was not likely to bide her time too much longer there. His feet thumped hard against the ground as he galloped toward the sound of her call.

Out of breath and panting hard, he arrived to see her speaking to somebody else. Another lone male, no less, and Viggo raised his hackles out of... what? Jealousy? He could easily be a threat to her, he told himself, even though he didn't believe it. Thankfully for the stranger, the words Viggo caught led him easily into the conversation. “More than you know,” he replied gruffly, turning to Ptarmigan once his peace was said. “Who is this?”

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And as easily as that, she struck a bargain of sorts with the broad lone wolf. A small smile flirted with her lips, but it was quickly replaced by a wider grin when Viggo approached. She didn't notice the flare of his hackles, and readily approached to bump him with her shoulder.

A friend, she assured him, turning back to Andrus. He has agreed to help me in exchange for food and amenities. She paused for just a moment, waiting to see whether the mercenary would add anything or whether Viggo would question her need for help, but she couldn't hold it in any longer.

I killed an Alpha, she brightly informed her travelling companion with the expectation that he would take the news somewhat better than Andrus had. Though the deeper toned wolf hadn't outwardly spoken against her claim, and had thrown his lot in with her all the same, she hoped that the Ostrega would be more understanding of what she considered reality. She was already dying so I did them a favour, really, by getting rid of her. Her place is mine now, by natural law. He is going to help us secure the pack. Then she smiled, showing no indication that she regretted drowning Jinx whatsoever... A clear indication that her moral compass might not have pointed steadily north after all.

Andrus said not a word as another wolf suddenly appeared. He didn't need to, for any words his mouth would have spoken we're said much better by his body. He narrowed his eyes at the other male, lifting his tail as the fur along his neck and spine prickled warily. From the moment the bargain had been struck, Andrus was on the job. Being on the job meant every wolf he did not know was a potential threat to his employer, and the burly man would treat them as such until instructed otherwise. Andrus was a machine when it came to his work--emotionless, cold, and completely obedient

Ptarmigan's friendly treatment of this other wolf put him slightly more at ease. He assumed this man was the one she had spoke of for she hadn't said anything about there being another with whom she was friendly. Andrus remained guarded and wary, however. Ptarmigan knew him perhaps, but he was yet to discover if whatever friendship they had was enough that he wouldn't turn his back on her after hearing what she had been up to while he was away.

Viggo was quick to accept Ptarmigan's answer as the truth, and he relaxed once she explained that he was a friend to them both. Viggo had, without even saying so, agreed to be at Ptarm's side from the first time they had met. Sure, it had started out as a casual arrangement, but the longer he followed her, the longer he felt it was his place to be where he was. She was his leader, and Viggo would do whatever she wished of him, so long as it did not conflict with his morals.

Ptarmigan's next confession made his eyes widen for a moment, but his lips pulled into a devilish grin once he realized what this meant. And while Viggo did have morals, he knew that the throne was Ptarmigan's right by natural law. If the lady Alpha had been dying, as she suggested (and he had no reason to disbelieve her), then she truly had done the entire pack a favor. A pack without a leader would swiftly be thrown into chaos, and Ptarmigan could easily soothe their mourning souls and give them what all followers needed: a leader.

“Let us go, then,” Viggo suggested, glancing to both of them expectantly. There was no need for them to linger here any longer. Now that they had a place to call their own, nothing could stop them.

In accordance with social norms, Ptarmigan should have been watching Viggo expectantly and nervously, awaiting a reaction that was either disbelief or disgust. Instead, she glanced between her newly hired hand and her partner, expecting one or the other to express some displeasure, but neither did. Andrus was stern and tense, but seemed to calm the longer he was in Viggo's presence, and Viggo didn't seem off put by the male's scrutiny at all.

The Ostrega grinned, the mercenary glowered, and Ptarmigan smiled brightly. If the three of them couldn't bring a newly won kingdom to their knees, then nobody could. The sway of her tail at her hocks betrayed her giddiness, though she managed to refrain from giggling immaturely for once. Andrus had already looked past one of her jokes, and the weight of their situation, while exciting, was too much for further humour.

With the pale agouti male's agreement and suggestion, the Endore moved to lead them back in the direction of the territory in which she had found the dying Alpha. Its name and past was unknown to her, as were its many details, but its silhouette was unique and impossible to miss, as overstated as her own personality could be.