Sawtooth Spire You must've gone and put a spell on me

A relatively fresh meal in her belly made Wylla a little more amenable to the screwy terrain of Sawtooth Spire, but only a little. It was enough to push her back down to where Mahler and his associate had decided to place the pack borders. They'd been through here recently so Wylla turned the other way and began to trace a slow, cautious path along the outer edges of their new claim.

She wasn't sure what to think of all this. Diaspora was a small but capable pack, but the tension within it was palpable lately, and that spelled trouble. She vainly imagined that her presence and pregnancy had something to do with that, though in reality it was a matter between Takiyok and Mahler that strained the entire pack. Regardless of the cause, things had been uncomfortable. Wylla was good at keeping to herself, so it hadn't affected her too much yet, but she knew something was gonna give.

She just didn't expect to be told they were merging with another pack. A whole other set of unknown variables to deal with, along with a co-leader for Mahler that wasn't her. Truth be told it pissed her off a little bit, but it was too early in their coalition to rock the boat on that issue. Coupled with the treacherous terrain they now occupied, she was less than pleased with the arrangement, but she kept it quietly in her head, grousing about it internally while maintaining the dutiful pretense of marking the borders.

Wylla had reservations about their relocation, as did Stag.. but for different reasons. Ever since their confusing meet with Zarya, Stag had been a little slow on the uptake. He'd never been a particularly fast wolf; some of it was just his youth, but some of his slowness he came by honestly. This was a bit different. It was like his thoughts muddled together, and sometimes he found himself just trailing off and not even remembering what he had been thinking about anyway.

Today, he was reflecting over meeting Melkor, and how he had, for the briefest amount of time, had the high honor of being one of the Men. It was a fresh feeling for Stag, who for a long time had felt out of place. Now he was feeling like he belonged, but their home was changing.

He'd already been uprooted before, so he wasn't particularly attached to where they were now. It was just that he was kind of tired of the constant change of things. Plus, things were different now. In ways he couldn't really explain. It was the same tension that Wylla noted, only she had a word for it, where Stag just kind of had a feel.

Coming across Wylla, Stag waved his tail amenably but held back. Truth be told, there was no wolf in Diaspora that intimidated Stag more than the she-wolf. He had seen a ferocious side of her when she had come to his aid with Zarya - but she also carried herself in a way that the boy, who was emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on certain moods, seemed constantly on edge. It was not like Mahler, who was guarded and mostly dark -- Wylla was readable in a way Stag had no idea what to do with.

Shy but not wanting to seem unconfident, Stag mumbled a quiet "Hi." before nosing at a bush behind Wylla.

Wylla was on total autopilot by the time Stag came across her. A bear could've waltzed up and taken a chunk out of her butt before she realized it was there, so Stag snuck right up on her. It wasn't intentional, but his shy hi snapped her thoughts like the crack of a whip and she spun around, blurting god damnit! right in his face.

Realization on who he was dawned immediately after that. Wylla snatched her dark ears back and drew up with a mixture of alarm and affront creasing her features. Jeez, she wheezed out. You scared the shit outta me. Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on your friends? Now that he wasn't crumpled up at the base of a log she was able to appraise Stag more completely, and... yep, still freakish looking with his long-ass legs and skinny little teen body. A shoe-in for a varsity basketball team if only they weren't wolves.

Also, they weren't really friends. She was kind of teasing him. Giving him a once over now that her heart rate was starting to slow, she had the sense to ask him, how's your noggin?

Stag's ears pulled forward as he waited for Wylla to turn around, a smile ready on his face. That smile disappeared immediately, withered by the unsightly grimace that dominated Wylla's face as she spun around towards him.

Instinctively, immediately, the young boy cowed to the ground in fear and submissive terror. One would not know now, but the snow was briefly doused by a tinkling of pee as he folded under Wylla's wrath, ears disappearing into his silvery ruff and his tail tucked tight to his stomach.

He hadn't been expecting that greeting, and remained supine in the snow as Wylla collected her bearings. For Stag, it would take much longer to return to status quo -- he had just seen a verifiable furious harpy, and was still rather rattled. Not even the mention of being friends (which would normally have Stag prancing on heart-shaped cloud-nines) stirred him from his quivering. After a few shaky breaths, he tried to steady his racing mind and heart. "I'm sorry I'm sorry!" The boy blurted, gaze firmly averted. He was one snap away from whimpering, but Wylla's concern for him was met with a surprised lift of his eyes. His head hadn't been great, and there was still a crusty cut where the tree had done damage.. but the boy would live (to the detriment of all women in exactly six months). "It's okay. I'm sorry I snuck up on you."

Stag's reaction was... well, a bit extreme, thought Wylla, but that didn't mean she didn't get a kick out of it. There was nothing quite as intoxicating to her as being submitted to and the more severe that submission was, the more she liked it. It was followed swiftly by guilt. Stag hadn't done anything warranting the level of deference he showed and it was wrong of her to relish it when she hadn't even wanted it.

Shhh, she cooed, seriously, it's fine. I wasn't paying attention. It was the closest Stag would get to a proper apology for Wylla's reaction. She beckoned for him to follow along the borders if he wished. It was smart of you to think about jumping over the log, she offered, lips lifting into a wry smile at the memory. Stop, she told herself, choking down an inappropriate snigger, it wasn't funny. But it was funny now that she knew Stag had more or less recovered. Watching others absolutely wipe out was always funny. It would've worked if not for the ice. 'Course, I have no idea how she didn't get stuck doing what she did.

She shot Stag a conspiratorial look and whispered, she must be a witch.

Stag rose on shaky limbs as Wylla encouraged him, imparting a sense of calm command as she did so. The boy was doe-eyed and timid as he stepped after her, matching her pace but never once surpassing her. From time to time he would look upon her and study her face: what was she thinking, what was her expression, how did she carry herself?

Much like with Mahler, Stag was learning by imitating his elders.

Wylla mentioned the log, and Stag faltered. A shame choked him; he had been clumsy and stupid. He had made himself look like an idiot in front of the only wolves whose opinions he cared about (besides Zarya). As he looked at her, he could see her face was contorted by a serious attempt to remain impassive - but even he could see the snicker that lit up her sunny gaze. He looked away quickly, his lips tight. "Mm." He knew it was rude to not say anything when an adult was talking to him, so he just mumbled instead. He really wished he hadn't tried that stupid trick. "I wish it had been her and not me." The unkind thought had slipped out of his mouth before he could catch it; Stag gasped, and clasp his jaws shut with a tiny, terrified click.

Wylla's mirth stung Stag. It was clear as day, but the woman could no more hide her expressions than she could turn day to night with a sweep of her paw. She'd always been an open book, albeit a thorny one. It was too easy to tell when she was amused, when she was angry, when she was pleased—it all showed in the sunny dancing of her eyes. A noncommittal mumble betrayed Stag's discomfort, which only made it all funnier. He was embarrassed! How adorable.

Luckily, his next comment hid the fact that her peal of laughter was actually an uncontrolled outburst. By all appearances she had laughed at his cruel, but understandable comment. She deserved worse than a knock on the head, Wylla opined, tail swaying jovially at the recollection of Stag slamming face-first into the log. Would've been nice if it was her. Or if she got stuck. We could've torn her ass off and kept it for a trophy.

If Stag thought he would find a prim and proper she-wolf who balked at the thought of maiming others in Wylla, he would be sorely mistaken.

In a roundabout way, it was a good thing Stag had come across Wylla. Shaped by the customs of Diaspora, he was not used to anything that wasn't seriousness. Even his father, god rest his soul, had been a rather stern and upright male: by all accounts, Stag came across his seriousness honestly. To have a wolf that was neither icily composed like Mahler, nor emotionally-shut off like Stigmata (or even in some way, his mother) was a good change of pace for Stag. Even if he didn't know it at the time.

Wylla's laugh earned a grin from Stag, who misconstrued it as mirth directed to Zarya and not his embarassing encounter with wood. Momentarily set back by the rather bloody image Wylla portrayed (and reading no beguiling emotions in those sunny eyes) Stag navigated her reply with a careful nod and then a timid endorsement: "or her tail." He giggled, latently horrified by the streak of bloodthirstiness in him he wasn't aware of. He almost pressed his paw to his mouth in surprise, but kept his paw on the ground. Instead he looked to Wylla warily, measuring whether or not she approved of such a thing nervously.

Approved of it? Why, Wylla relished in all bloody intent. She'd been ruthless enough in Grimnismal to chase a few wolves from their fold and that hadn't changed with age. She chuckled earnestly and exchanged a conspiratorial look with the young Sandraudiga male. It'd make a fine fur hat for your head, she told him, narrowly avoiding mentioning the nasty little cut that was probably still healing under his fur. It's a pity, I'd have loved her skull for a door knocker. A little macabre, maybe, but there you have it.

Honestly, though, what a fucking idiot. Snorting with laughter, the Eisen shook her head and led them down a narrow path that cut into a trench in the land. Thanks for lettin' me know she was crap. I might've actually been nice to her if not for you.

Stag was at that age where he was impressionable: he was not bloodthirsty by nature, but like any wolf possessed of a shred of instinct, Stag was territorial -- and that gave birth to a different side of the boy he was not well acquainted with. Delighted with Wylla's encouragement, Stag's eyes widened as she mentioned a hat, and then a doorknocker. New respect level unlocked. "Waow! You can do that?" Of course she could - in Stag's opinion Wylla was capable of anything... even mounting someone's head on their front door.

They ambled through a lean-sided path, Stag's eyes still admiringly on Wylla. His chest puffed in response to her gratitude - he had done something right for once, and would probably cherish that forever. "Yeah! She was just weird." Stag's ears fell as he thought of the first time he had met Zarya. "Really weird. Are they all like that?"

Sure, if you try hard enough, she said. Deliberately egging on a kid's aggressive side probably wasn't the best idea, but hey. Sagtannet needed capable guardians. As long as he didn't go trying to jump anymore logs, Stag had promise. Wylla was sure with a little training he could be one of the pack's best. It wasn't like the wolves from Courtfall were really warriors. From what little she knew of them, they were intellectuals, although she'd yet to confirm it by speaking to any of them.

Y'ever touched sap? I bet if you could get some of that shit without getting it all in your fur, you could stick anything you want anywhere you wanted. An abrupt image of a skull artfully affixed to Stag's ass briefly crossed her mind. She chose not to comment on it, though she couldn't help a snigger from slipping through.

You mean outsiders? She pursed her lips, torn between answering honestly and answering with her own opinion. Yup, they're all stupid as a pile of rocks. Better sticking to your own crowd. Some wolves out there are just plain insane.

Trying Stag could do.  Whether or not he could accomplish his goals from trying was another matter entirely (See Exhibit A: A Young Juvenile Wolf Encounters A Fallen Log, page 286.)

He nodded his head as Wylla asked about sap. Sure he had touched the stuff. Once he'd even chewed on a pinecone and yelch!! That biz was nasty. He had never considered the virtues of 'stickiness' besides a burdensome annoyance.. but now that Wylla put that thought in his head..

Pushing thoughts of sap and what he could do with it aside, Stag considered Wylla's answer with a troubled frown. He didn't like outsiders. He'd never had a pleasant experience with them. Whether that was natural and came with the territory of being a pack wolf, or if it was simply his own poor luck, Stag didn't know - but he knew he didn't like the Zaryas of the world. They set his fur on end. "Why come?" Stag set his gaze on Wylla, who was fast becoming the smartest wolf he knew in his opinion, for a hopeful answer.

Wylla's experience with outsiders largely mirrored Stag's, although the definition was completely dependent on her current situation. If she was being honest then she would admit that her experiences probably stemmed mostly from her own bad attitude instead of the outsiders themselves, but that required a level of self-awareness that Wylla simply couldn't be bothered to develop for herself. It was much too easy to blame others.

Stag voiced a question then that completely perplexed Wylla. Wut. She flipped through a few possible meanings for that vague question only to find that any one of them was equally likely. Why had she come to Mahler's pack? Why had they come to this mountain? Why did Zarya come? Why did any outsider come?

Can you elaborate? she asked with pursed lips, doing her utmost not to reveal how badly failing to understand him irritated her. It wasn't his fault after all. She wouldn't be halfway surprised to learn that his encounter with the log had turned his brain to soup.

For a few horrifying seconds, Stag watched as Wylla flipped mentally through her vocabularly, trying to suss out what he had meant. He had said something stupid, hadn't he? And now she was just trying to figure out how to ignore it gracefully? God, he was an idiot.

His huge ears fell as she finally spoke, noting the way she pursed her lips. He hadn't caught that she was irritated, but being insecure, he imagined that all of the approval she might have had for him had just been chucked aside like refuse being thrown from an aeroplane jettisoning down the tamrac. He was visibly crestfallen as he tried again. "I mean, why are they all like that? Why are they stupid as rocks or insane?" Stag dared not meet her gaze in full, but he did shyly glance up at her with woeful puppy eyes that communicated 'plz-dont-hate-me-for-being-stupid-like-all-the-outsiders-are'.

Aaah, he'd meant how come. Feeling astoundingly stupid for not catching his meaning and even more irritated by her idiocy, Wylla had to take several seconds to swallow down her ire lest it come out in her tone. She didn't notice Stag's downcast expression and wasn't aware of his fears, so she didn't spare the time to reassure him that her opinion of him wasn't in jeopardy. Even a notoriously judgmental beast such as she would be a monster if she held verbal hiccups against a kid with probable brain damage.

Oh, I dunno. They just are. Everywhere I've ever lived, the wolves there are smart and the ones who come from elsewhere are stupid as shit. She tongued her incisors for a second, thinking back, then said, like, one time, I helped lead a pack on the coast and one of the member's sisters or something decided to come running right past our borders. Can't get much more stupid than that. We also had a bunch of wolves cross into our territory and then act like that was a totally reasonable way to try to join our pack. Snort. Idiots, the lot of them.

Maybe it's just something about not being in a pack that makes wolves dumb as fuck, she finished, having no actual explanation for the number of idiots she'd encountered in her life. It certainly had nothing to do with her own attitude and bias.

Stag was the one that felt stupid. He shly crossed his forelimbs and picked at the dirt as he waited for Wylla to talk, worried he had totally given himself foot-in-mouth disease (not and).

Wylla, however, moved right on with the subject. The boy was relieved - he didn't want to relive any of what just happened ever again. His brush with excruciating social mortification just now was enough for one life-time, thanks.

Learning that the world was pretty much the same elsewhere as it was here, Stag's ears fell. "Did you kill her sister?" He asked tentatively -- wondering if she'd made a door-knocker or a fur hat out of any of them.. in his eyes, she was certainly capable. "Maybe being in the wild makes them stupid..? Like they're alone all the time and don't have to think about anyone else but themselves.. Maybe it's like that."

Wylla probably wouldn't think that was the reason why lone wolves were stupid, but Stag drank in whatever reply she gave all the same. She would find he was like that annoying sticky burr for the rest of the afternoon -- wide-eyed and full of questions until it was time to go to bed.

fading a conclusion here so it can be wrapped up per request!