Otatso Wetlands. It had been the first time that the silvery wanderer had set foot in these wetlands. The wetlands were filled with brackish waters and towering trees shade the lands and gives this place an air of mystery. Only parts of the ground are lit with shafts of sunlight. And he liked it, the feel of mystery in the air. The other thing that he liked about this place was that the trees kept out the heat of the day. Even in late summer, the days were still hot.
His ears pricked as he walked forward, every stride he took was accompanied by the slight swishing of his tail. Maybe he would meet another wolf in these wetlands, one that would dare venture here too.
Languidly poised, the Egyptian lay in a cleansing shaft of light, licking fresh blood daintily from her small forepaws. The remains of a rabbit lay not far away, and she had relaxed fully following her meal, a luxury she did not often allow herself. From time to time, her piercing gaze swept the surrounding area, to ensure she was alone.
She would depart tonight, Hatshepsut decided, and seek out Lestat. It was time she sought out other places, and discovered what purpose Amun had for her in the Wilds. Briefly, the Regent thought of Njal, and his wife Tuwawi, and when they would depart the Creek to found themselves in another place.
Presently, as she lay against the stunted bole of the few trees that dotted the wetland, she spotted movement. Jaws paused in their cleaning; Hatshepsut watched the wolf closely. The creature's gait was calm and unhurried, carrying a lithe body closer to the bantam ruler with each passing second — and yet she did not rise, nor did she tense. Hatshepsut merely observed, both golden ears swept forward to monitor the progress of the approaching lupine.
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A gust of wind blew towards him, ruffling the silver wanderer's fur and bringing him a scent. Not that he needed one anyways, his hawk-sharp eyes had already caught the female lounging by a shaft of sunlight, licking her blood-stained paws. His ears pricked as he continued his calm, unhurried trot, that led him straight towards her.
He paused in his trot, a few feet away from her and lapped at the small puddle of water beside a tree and lowering himself onto his haunches, platinum gaze studying her, though not directly meeting her eyes for he did not wish to get himself into a fight just yet.
"Hey," he said.
The man, for that he was, had been cloaked by the gods in shades of smoke, like that which wreathed through a temple following a night of worship. Perhaps he was a priest, though she thought it unlikely. A ripple of tightening in her haunch was the only depiction of her annoyance with his untoward attitude of comfort in her presence, but Hatshepsut wore her neutrality as a secondary skin upon the cold mask of her face.
"I would have your name," the Regent murmured softly, her eyes raised to seek his own gaze. Pleasantries had been forgotten when he had seated himself near her; she was a direct creature with a pointed tongue. A gentle flare of her nostrils brought her his scent; the fragrance of earth and water lay across his withers, as it had Njal's own.
But she was silent, awaiting his words, the tip of her tail flexing idly against the loamy ground.
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"I would have your name," murmured the female, raising her eyes to meet his steely platinum gaze. He did not answer her just yet, instead stood up and moved away to lap at a bigger puddle of water before sitting down next to a large tree, further to her than the one he'd sat next to moments ago.
"I go my lots of names, which one would you like?" he said in answer to her question, or statement. It wasn't a lie, he did go by lots of names even though most would call him 'Shadow' now. He had gone by his last name that people mistaken for his middle 'Angelus' and many others.
The only reason why he did not give her his name immediately was because he didn't trust her, and she didn't need to know his name just yet. It was dangerous.
He seemed unsure, and his thirst was palpable. The man's words granted him an ever-cooling stare from the Regent; she did not care for his game. It was juvenile, and below the station that his body commanded. Nevertheless, she was no stranger to such foibles. "Then I would have the name by which you go today," Hatshepsut amended, a low, humorless curve bowing her mouth for a sliding moment.
In turn, she did not trust him; he wore a scent she recognized as that of that pack that would drive a capable man such as Njal from its borders. Such an infraction, even if Hatshepsut did not know the extent of each story's side, had immediately hardened her heart against the creatures of the Creek. The man before her was no exception.
The Egyptian waited.
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The silver wanderer's nostrils flared, bringing him a more detailed scent of the female in front of him. She smelled of something familiar, while he was thinking, an impassive look came over his face. Platinum eyes devoid of emotion. Finally he pinpointed the scent on her, no wonder it was so familiar. Njal, he had met her.
He turned his icy gaze towards the female, "So you've met Njal, huh?" he said pleasantly, though he did not know what the silver father had told her, he knew it was probably about the moving of their family. Perhaps she thought that they willingly drove the small family from the Creek's borders, he scoffed quietly.
She had bathed, but perhaps the scent of the Nordic man was more pervasive than previously believed. The faux smile fading from her lips, the Regent straightened her posture, gathering herself in one graceful movement to her haunches. Lapis eyes bored with icy calm into the face of the male. "I am not a fan of games," she instructed her companion in a voice of silk.
While the Egyptian kept tension from lacing her body, the Creek wolf's aversion of her requests had angered her. Though he had not a moment's inkling of who it was he spoke toward so flippantly, Hatshepsut was loathe to remain in a place that harboured such creatures.
And yet pride kept the desert wolf rooted — she had garnered for herself this patch of ground before the male had arrived, and would have viewed it as a personal weakness to move away from the man, if only to escape his irksome question.
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He raised his head, gaze meeting the female's for a second. Wouldn't it be easier for both of them if they just answered the questions issued and leave? Wouldn't that be easier? Why couldn't she just see that.
Frustration pricked at his pelt but he ignored it.
Hatshepsut was no fool — when the man spoke what underlaid his inquiry, it was clear to her what he sought. Njal would depart soon enough, and in the interim, perhaps those around him thought him untrustworthy. And yet, it was not the Sveijarn who had proven himself thus, but the man of smoke and bated breath.
Shadow. The Egyptian did not believe that was his title, nor would she place stock in anything else he would say. Suspicion had been instilled in her mind at a young age; as Regent, as Pharaoh, she could afford to trust no wolf, for many would hate her for the title she held, as what was between her thighs did not support her claim to a hereditary throne.
"And what right have you to such knowledge?" Hatshepsut rejoined in the same gossamer voice, now baiting the male with a crass writhe of her lips. With no intention of discussing the information Njal had shared, the Regent settled in to toy with the greyscale mouse.
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Oh so now she wanted to play, huh? The silver outrider had no time or patience for this, this arrogant little female that thought herself as the ruler of the world. Perhaps she was, where she came from but here, in Teekon Wilds, she wasn't. And if there was one thing that Shadow hated than most, it was arrogance.
"I don't," he shrugged. "I don't have any right to know what Njal has said to you," he said sincerely. "I trust Njal enough to not question him, even though most at the Creek would have lost all respect for him and his mate when they requested to leave us." he said plainly.
He spoke, but it did not change Hatshepsut's opinion of Njal, for she had set her mind to pondering why it was the shadow-beast was so pressed to disparage his comrade. The scent of the Creek had laid more thickly upon Njal than upon this cur — she was inclined to believe he had been one of its members for quite some time longer than the one who sought to tarnish his name.
"Are your leaders so paranoid, so frightened of their own shadows, that they must send men such as yourself to roam the lands and speak ill of your packmates?" A gentle scoff floated from her throat. "A pitiful existence indeed."
Her gaze hardened, cooled; she regarded the smoke-fellow with blatant disinterest now shining in her eyes, and proceeded to look past him at some fixed point beyond his shoulder. It was a dismissal, and the beast would do well to take it.
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He raised his head, platinum gaze hardening slowly. "Speak ill of my packmates? I merely tell the truth. Perhaps you are so blind that you cannot see and hear the truth in my words when I say that Njal and his family are leaving the Creek willingly." he said slowly, as if she didn't understand any word he was saying.
"You do not have feelings, or thoughts, or your own mind do you? Once you're fixed to the idea that we kicked Njal's family and him out of the Creek, you can't think about anything else related to it, no? If you don't answer that means you're afraid of the truth/" He did not think that Njal would say they kicked him out, he merely thought that was perhaps what the female assumed.
He was a vindictive little fool, spitting words of venom, accusations that foundered the moment they were birthed into earshot. With each passing word, Hatshepsut was comforted by her attraction to Njal's strength, and her support of his decision to leave the Creek was solidified. If such beasts as the one before her carried sway in the ranks, perhaps it was safer that he relocated his wife and family quite far away.
Perhaps Njal was one of those who took male lovers; perhaps this shadow-wolf was one such, and, bitterly spurned, now took up jaw against him. Yet the Egyptian had not received such a sentiment from the gold-eyed man when they had spoken — he was hale, scarred, utterly masculine. The antithesis of Thutmose, which amused her to no end.
Deliberately, she lifted a forepaw to her lips and began to clean the clinging loam from her toes. Upon the forefront of her mind was the desire to bait the male, to enrage him, but Hatshepsut knew such words would be foolhardy; she was not one to risk injury without a purpose. Quietly, she preened herself and ignored the ravings of the Creek brute.
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The silver male laughed, a loud jovial clear sound that echoed throughout the wetlands. He turned his gaze towards the female who was ignoring him. He did not care. Was this female going to join Njal's pack when its formed? Hopefully the silver father would let the Creek wolves visit once in a while, he would miss the pups dearly.
"Goodbye milady, I wish you luck on whatever travels you have before you. Maybe we will meet again when Njal has found his new home and settled down. Maybe you'll also meet the rest of the Creek wolves when we come and visit." a smile appeared on his lips as he got to his paws, muttering a soft "Gotta check on the pups," before rising to his paws and bounding away, well muscled limbs moving quickly through the wetlands.
He spoke again, in softer words, but Hatshepsut had traveled back to the verdant banks of the great River. Her gaze cleared when he took his leave, and the Regent watched as he moved gracefully away.
A slow smile crossed her lips; she reclined again, eyelids falling to half mast. A deep sigh flowed from her, and the Egyptian set about harvesting what was left of the day's warmth.
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