Cricket Creek Bog fragile stuff, all show

the afternoon is warm with warm sunshine that touches upon his back before it escapes and pirouettes behind a cloud that drifts too near; as if it were playing hide n' seek. having caught the scent of a pack claim to the north with borders well marked ridgeback seeks to avoid it. this drove him into the arms of the bog; loamy earth and pools of fresh water with a symphony of cricket and grasshopper song. he recoils a paw, suddenly, as a grasshopper flits away, brushing his foreleg. a glimpse down is given, followed by the close assumption that he'd almost squashed it. attention returns to the pool in his line of sight that he'd been heading to and when he reaches it he bows his head to take a deep drink of the cool and fresh water.

Quite often, border patrols led Bronco outside of the claimed territory and toward potential hunting opportunities, and occasionally, when he caught the scent of a loner wandering near, he would pursue it simply to check in on the wolves wandering in the area. The majority of them seemed to be fairly transient, and content to continue along in their travels. He'd been meandering along the creek in hopes of finding signs of muskrats or other prey animals that might live in the area when he happened along the tracks of a stranger. Curious, he pursued the male's tracks until he could see him in the distance, drinking from the clear water. 

Bronco was reminded of summer storm clouds when he looked at the male's pelt- dark, steely, somewhat blue-ish greys, darkening over his shoulders where a unique dorsal stripe of mahogany fanned out over his shoulders, up the mane-like fur along his neck, and to the back of his head. He was an impressive size, and in the sort of muscled condition that led Bronco to believe he ought to mind his manners; he leapt to the conclusion that this striking male would be well trained in the art of combat. He could only hope that he was as well-composed as his structure was, and that he wasn't the sort to light a fuse that was all too short, simply because he was being interrupted by a stranger. 

He swallowed hard. Generally, he had more confidence when he met strangers...But something about this fellow made Bronco feel somewhat self-aware, and a bit vulnerable. Something made his heart race. He put on a soft smile, nonetheless, and chuffed, to get the male's attention.

the sound of footfalls is swallowed by the cricket symphony, playing some rendition that is both haunting familiar and unfamiliar to, by the earth; soft and loamy underfoot. the chuff, however, rises above the crescendo of cricketsong and ridgeback's head rises with a start, fiery orange eyes searching ...scanning ...until they land upon another fellow — young, a yearling or very close to it — dappled in a pelage of scotch brown broken by beige and eyes that are the color of the whisky ridgeback would hold in his glass.

a small chuffing noise is made in return; something that hedged closer to a huff. he disliked being startled — and in truth, allowing himself to be vulnerable and startled as he's just been was a slight against all of his warrior training. still, his spirits are high and he offers hello, accompanying the friendly wave of his tail and slight roll of his shoulder as if to communicate that there was no ill-will.

The response was more gruff, and Bronco felt himself being chided, even if Ridgeback hadn't intend to do so. He dipped his head apologetically and moved a few steps forward, his tail waving between his hocks and ears turned back as a show of deference. He side-stepped to avoid a small puddle, but given the marshy terrain, found himself slipping ankle-deep into a squelchy patch of mud regardless. He had to high-step to pull his feet out of the boggy muck, and once he'd approached the opposite side of the stream from Ridgeback, he offered him a somewhat guilty smile. Yeah, he was mud up to his ankles now- but at least he was friendly. 

"Hey," He responded, finally. "Sorry, didn't mean to, uh," He said, and shrugged. Whether he was aware of it or not, Ridgeback's cool, orange gaze made Bronco feel slightly vulnerable. "I'm from the Copse," He said, gesturing in the direction of his pack. "Just caught your trail while I was lookin' for muskrat dams," He said. "I'm Bronco," He said, feeling a bit idiotic for having been compelled by some social anxiety to explain himself to the handsome stranger.

ah, it's alright, ridgeback brushes away the apology at being startled. letting out a chuff is normal social procedure; meant to grab attention. it had served its purpose and in hindsight was a whole lot better than just invading personal space, in ridgeback's book. i was preoccupied by the symphony the crickets are playing. it can't be heard in all territories; and here it sounds much more natural than it always sounded in the ruins of his homeland where it echoes eerily off of crumbling stone walls. the copse boy — introduced as bronco — informs him that he was looking for muskrat dams. ridgeback gives a solemn nod, pretending he knows what a muskrat is while loosely assuming it's a prey animal of some type. ridgeback, he offers his name with a charming tug of his lips and a sweep of his gaze over bronco's tank-built form. admiring, as one is wont to do. i have no home and live by the wiles of lawlessness and exploration. his grin turns a little bit dastardly then.

Smoothely, the male displays his modesty and forgiveness, and Bronco's trepidation is lifted when he realizes that he might not have to worry about defending himself had Ridgeback actually been offended, or simply not in the mood to be startled. He turned his ears forward when he mentioned the sound of the crickets- and Bronco realized, then, that it wasn't something he'd ever really noticed. But, wanting to fit in with his companion, he smiled, and nodded. "S'kind of nice to hear them again. Winter was so quiet," He said, and felt a bit proud of himself for having come up with something that thoughtful. 

He wouldn't have been able to describe exactly how he felt when Ridgeback looked him up and down, but felt something akin to melting, though only slightly. He did his best to maintain his composure, a bit confused and startled by the unfamiliar feeling. The more Ridgeback spoke, the more Bronco found himself wanting to hear more; he had a different way of describing his experiences, and the wilderness, and without realizing it, Bronco'd sat himself down, like a child might when they suspected story time was about to begin. "That sounds...Kind of amazing," He responded, with an impressionable grin.

it is, ridgeback murmurs in muted agreement. oft times he found them annoying — especially when he was trying to fall asleep — but in the here and now, after a winter that felt dreadfully long — even though he weathered it from a far away place — it was a pleasant sound. a promise that winter has ended and the fruitful seasons were upon them. fiery orange gaze flickers back to bronco as the younger male sits down; attentive. a low chuckle rumbles in ridgeback's throat as bronco claims that his misfit life sounds 'kind of amazing'. does it? ridgeback asks with a grin and a quirk of his brow. outwardly, sure. answering to no one was great. there was also a pang of loneliness that no matter how many temporary companions ridgeback took he could not entirely shake. it has its moments, ridgeback admits. but it gets lonely and hard even with the fruitful seasons upon us. in the end, ridgeback knows, wolves were meant to be pack creatures. the realities of it don't make for a very enthralling story but something in ridgeback tells him to be honest without really knowing why.

Bronco's ears tilted forward at the question and, feeling as though he'd been caught in a bit of a corner, given his experience, he chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. Perhaps it was more the way Ridgeback had described the life of a lone wolf that he'd liked, than the idea of living on his own. He found himself blushing, his cheeks growing hot beneath his fur, when Ridgeback described their current season as being 'fruitful,' and the impressionable lad's memory immediately, inappropriately, connected a few dots and reminded him of the talk his mother had given him. It had been months ago- but he still felt slightly traumatized about the topic of reproduction. Of course, Ridgeback potentially only meant 'fruitful' to mean the blooming of flowers, and the return of the herds- but Bronco's mind was too quick to make a different assumption. 

"I...Wouldn't know," He admitted somewhat softly. He didn't like being reminded of how young and inexperienced he was. He had lived with a pack his entire life- save for the little trip he'd taken with his mother when he'd been very young. "I've lived in a pack my entire life." He stated, though he assumed that that much would be obvious. He looked about as out of place as a lone wolf as a fat house cat might look if it managed to sneak outside. "Have you always been on your own?" He asked, hoping th be regaled with a story of how this dashing fellow had spent his life as wild as the wind that rattled the cattails nearby.

there's no shame in that, ridgeback offers to bronco's admittance. there were times when ridgeback wishes he had a more stable familial support system — wishes that someone — anyone — would've given him a reason to stay in ridgeback spire; how could he ever forget he is spartan's youngest and biggest disappointment. we're not meant to be alone, y'know. ridgeback says with a small grin that hides beneath it the sincerity of his words. if he imparts nothing on the youth, let it be that simple nugget of wisdom.

unfortunately not, ridgeback draws, with a sheepish twist of his lips that then borderline apology. but i was generally unsupervised and left to my own devices. for no reason other than his parents had been more preoccupied with grooming the next 'heir' whichever of spartan's loins earned his stone cold respect. it's almost the same thing. ridgeback supplies with an errant shrug of his broad shoulders.

Ridgeback reassured him, which made him feel a little bit less of a pampered pet, knowing that he was at least living life the way a wolf was generally built to- but it also made him slightly sad to hear those words coming from a wolf who then went on to imply that his own experience with others and with packs had not been a positive one. Bronco wondered if Ridgeback had chosen a life on his own to avoid being hurt again. He seemed to regret his experiences enough to have shied away from the idea of fitting into a pack again. 

"That...I'm sorry," He said. "That's not how it's supposed to be. An' I think...Whoever you were with, that they failed you." He said. Parents weren't supposed to neglect their children. Packmates weren't supposed to be left feeling like an outsider. He didn't seem to want to be pitied, though, and Bronco doubted even more that he wanted pity from a stranger. "S'their loss, anyway," He said, simply, hoping to validate Ridgeback's self confidence. He tilted his nose in a respectful gesture to Ridgeback. "I mean, doesn't seem like you turned out that bad," He said with a wry smile.

a small smile plays at the edges of ridgeback's lips as the younger man apologizes and states that his family failed him. while it's nice to know that he isn't the only one who falls into that sentiment, there is a slight twist of guilt in the ranger all the same. though he did not go into any sort of actual details, he hadn't meant to unload anything upon bronco. not when ridgeback is trying to leave baggage in the grave he dug for it. that was his past ...but maybe it was not as dead as he'd like for it to be. he has only been gone from them for a little over two months; more fresh than he'd like to admit.

thanks. ridgeback barks out a laugh and offers a devilish smirk. what's your home like? he inquires then, gesturing towards the copse with his muzzle. though ridgeback wasn't entirely sold on the idea of rehoming himself it has been a logical consideration all the same. his travels thru these wilds thus far has told him there is no shortage to choose from. plus, this slides the spotlight off of him for a bit; a reprieve he looks forward to.

Considering the differences in their experience with packs, Bronco felt slightly ashamed of his own, plush situation when asked to describe it. He looked down, and shrugged his dark shoulders, not wanting to be too boastful but at the same time, he owed his family a lot of credit. Humbly, he glanced back up at Ridgeback. "It's nice?" He asked, and shrugged again, as a means to take some of the pressure off himself. "Mostly just...A big family, with lots of kids," He said. "And we're pretty peaceful...So while we do have to kind of go through a bit of a 'boot camp' to be a guardian, it's just so we can keep the pack safe." He said. 

Another idea struck him, and brought a smile to his lips. "But bein' a mostly-family-pack," He said, "Definitely has its disadvantages. Ya gotta pretty much just hope someone comes along an' joins the pack that suits your fancy, an' snag 'em before anyone else in the pack does." He chuckled.

the big family the ranger understands well enough ...even though ridgeback spire had a fairly decent mix. for a wild moment he wonders what it's like to get along fairly well with your own family and then lets the curiosity go as quickly as it came. there was little sense on dwelling upon what would never be. boot camp, huh? sounds ...rigorous. but unsurprising, in truth. ridgeback, admittedly, held the assumption that all master guardians and warriors were hard-asses like spartan; whom like his name tended to drill his children like spartan soldiers.

ears cup forth, and tail twitches once, twice against his hocks as bronco brings up a point that ridgeback hadn't considered: that being in a family pack didn't leave a lot in the way of romance options. hmm, the hum draws forth from deep in his throat; contemplative. i can see how that would pose a problem. a pause is given. sounds like it might be very competitive. sometimes near family exclusive packs tended to be a turn off for wolves who were afraid that bias might hinder their chances of succeeding. is your family big on letting outsiders in? his had been ...circumstantial. spartan'd been interested in heirs and soldiers above all else. anyone who couldn't contribute in either of those ways was of little interest to spartan and his spire and many had been turned away at their borders because of it.

He snickered at Ridgeback's quip, and shrugged. "Ain't that bad," He said, off-handedly. He'd survived Towhee's training, and had been able to beat his peers in most of their dominance spars. He, like many others in the Copse, believed that violence should only be used to the maximum extent necessary and nothing beyond that. So if that meant chasing someone out of the pack, and letting them run off- then so be it. Even when he'd caught a stranger attacking his best friend, he'd intervened and had had to fight to the point where he'd had to make a grab for the male's throat- but he didn't kill him. The display of strength was enough. Bronco couldn't stomach true, senseless violence. 

He nodded when Ridgeback seemed to see how things looked, in terms of romantic options for Bronco. He wasn't even entirely sure who struck his fancy- all he knew was that the majority of the wolves in the pack  his age were related to him by blood. He would have gone on to comment on that topic, but as soon as Ridgeback expressed an interest in the pack, his ears perked. "Oh, we're not unfriendly toward strangers. S'long as you got some skills an' manners, I'd think you'd be OK," He said. "I can conduct an," and he cleared his throat, straightening up a bit, "Unofficial interview, if you want," He offered, with a smile. Of course, it'd mean repeating the same thing later, to someone who could actually admit him to the pack- but practice was always beneficial, right?

bronco snickers that it wasn't as bad as ridgeback imagines and the ranger lets out a sheepish half grin. then they truly had very different experiences growing up ...but if anything all it's done is put into perspective for ridgeback what kind of father he wanted to be to his kids ...if he ever had kids. certainly nothing like spartan and if he was destined to: may the gods strike him down where he stood. for a brief moment, though he was far from pious, he fretted that he brought some curse upon himself but after a moment he still breathes and no righteous lightening comes down from the sky.

manners? only on my good days, ridgeback nearly purls, partially in jest with a small, short bark of a laugh. he understood, however, that leaders didn't take kindly to disrespect. he wouldn't. sure, ridgeback agrees loftily. why not. maybe, just maybe, if he passed bronco's inspection he might stand a chance at passing one of his superior's.

Bronco snorted in reply, and then tried to force himself into guardian mode- which was difficult, as he now had to be an unbiased juror, though he'd already made up his mind that if the choice was his, Ridgeback would be in the pack right away. Unless he confessed to being a lazy, puppy-hating freeloader, Bronco didn't feel there'd be any reason not to accept him. Then again- if he said any of those things, Bronco would've found it nearly impossible to believe him. 

So he straightened himself up a bit, but unlike the sentries  from other packs, he had been taught to keep his composure approachable. His mother had told him that at one point, she'd basically adopted a 'chase and attack on sight' attitude for lone wolves caught wandering near the borders. And while that sounded exciting, he didn't want to have to ever fight for his life. He brought his gaze up to meet Ridgeback's orange eyes, and had to try to keep himself from just smiling. "Well, you can start by telling me your name, and a bit about where you've come from," Bronco prompted gently. He had to seriously put in an effort to keep from grinning. This felt ridiculous. "And any past experiences that you think we should know about," He added, and before he could help himself, he snickered. It would be way too easy to make the interview completely ridiculous- but for now, he did his best to try and keep it somewhat relevant.

for a small moment he hesitates before responding to bronco; tiny. like a small skip in a record player — probably not noticed by someone who was only paying partial attention. well, ridgeback draws with gusto, intent to gloss over it. my name is styx but i go by ridgeback; and i'm from a place in the far west of here called ridgeback spire. it was ran by a man named spartan and he had interest only in producing heirs and soldiers. as such, i can hold my own in a fight and i'm a skilled scout. of course words were only so good — ridgeback realizes that he would have to be willing to back it up with action.

it's the first time, he realizes, since leaving the spire that he's referred to himself as styx in any sort of capacity. he tells himself that it's because he believes in transparency at the borders. he just found it ostentatious to be named after a mythological being. he wasn't trying to hide anything from his past. he only wanted to try to look to his future ...a future that had never included ridgeback spire or the family he left behind there.

Sticks?! Bronco had to try very hard not to snort when he heard what Ridgeback's real name was. Given his lack of education, Bronco wouldn't have ever heard of the river Styx, and thus- he heard the homonym which he thought at first might've been a joke. He told himself not to dwell on it too much- Ridgeback had a way cooler name now, though he did tell himself he could always tease Ridgeback about his previous moniker later, if they got to that sort of friendship. 

He spoke quickly, as though trying to just get through everything...And when he mentioned his pack's purpose, he opened his mouth, and nodded. So that's why he'd spoken so fast. He felt bad, then, making Ridgeback say things he might not have wanted to say...And all for a mock-interview that he probably didn't even need practice for. His ears turned back, but he told himself to stay composed. From what he could tell, then...Ridgeback came from a rough background- much more military in nature, and Bronco thought he could sense a bit of spite and distaste in Ridgeback's choice of words, and tone. 

He offered Ridgeback a soft smile. At least he was away from that sort of a life now. He didn't have to be an heir, nor did he have to be a soldier. "We know the importance of having both of those...But the Firebirds; we're a peaceful crew. We have no rivals or enemies, and want to keep it this way." He said. "How would you normally greet a visitor who came to your borders?" He asked.

bronco brings up that while his home — firebirds, he called it — understands the importance of it they are peaceful. ridgeback doesn't remember his home ever being at 'war' per se but he isn't sure that he knows what a peaceful home is either. there was always inner conflicts and competitions that had brought out the absolute worst in spartan's offspring. ridgeback included. understandable, the ranger murmurs. how would i, personally, or how i was trained? ridgeback wants to ask but does not. i tend to be a bit protective but i suppose the best answer is with charm and caution ...providing their respectful of the borders.

The question had been somewhat of a trick question- if Ridgeback confessed being trained to, say, attack on sight, Bronco would have had to step in and say "Not at the Firebirds!" In order to re-route his thinking process. They did not want to encourage violence by greeting strangers with violence first and questions later. Fortunately, though, his answer described more or less the way he knew his mother greeted wolves at the borders, and as the Sergeant-at-Arms for the pack, he assumed her way was the best way. 

"It kind of depends on who comes to the borders, right?" He asked, then, hoping to talk about some shared experiences they might have had. "Like...Some times wolves drift by, or start to kind of poke around and it's like you just know they're up to something...So they make you a bit more on-guard than others, like...Well, like you," He said. "I mean, not to say you don't look intimidating, but like...You don't give off the creep vibe or anything," He said, with a small laugh. "That's...Meant as a compliment," He went on to say, albeit somewhat bashfully.

sorry about the delayed response! feel free to archive as is or wrap up with your post! <3

right. ridgeback concurs with a sage nod and a curl of his lips, that morphs into a soft laugh. good to know i don't look like a creep. he grins in full with a teasing lilt to his tone and a sweep of his tail against his hocks. he considers for a few moments, weighing. weighing. weighing. definitely interested but unsure if he was ready to let go of his recently acquired freedoms yet. a deep inhale was taken and let out in a soft, sighing exhale. i'm interested, he says, unabashedly. but not quite ready to stop exploring. so much for all that talk of settling down. when i am, i'll stop by. of course there was no guarantee that they'd take him then — there was guarantee of anything; but ridgeback always thought it better to be honest.

i'll see you around? he asks as a way of parting and when he is sure their conversation has come to a close, departs, letting the shadows swallow him once more.