Firefly Glen A Little Bit Alexis

In the twilight between dusk and sunset, Bronco found himself meandering beyond the borders of Moonspear where the grounds became flat, and the grasslands stretched before him, a great glen shadowed by the shoulders of mountains and forests on every side. This late in the summer, there were no fireflies to light up the night, so he relied instead on the light of the moon and the stars that began to slowly emerge from the deep crimson of the sky. Even the crickets and bullfrogs had gone silent- a sign that the Summer had drawn to a close, and that the silence of winter drew nearer. 

He heard the sharp exhale of a stag in the distance, indicating that his scent had likely given him away though he hadn't been stalking the small herd anyway. He was content to note their existence, knowing that he could always report their presence to his packmates and establish a pack hunt in the days to come should the herbivores remain in the area. There was some use in striding amongst the slender, tawny deer who, in seeing him alone, supposed him less of a threat. They maintained a wary distance, and continued to watch him as he passed through the glen, but did not panic. In a world of struggles between predator and prey, even he was glad to have a moment of peace now and again.

Banshee, on the other paw, thrives on chaos.  True to form, she bursts into the scene, snapping wildly at the herd of deer.  She has no intention of hunting them; she's only here to have a good time.  So, she barks and bares her teeth, tongue lolling as she sends the deer running.  For a time, the stag seems as though he intends to challenge her; however, he seems to fall victim to the accusation that she's more than just an adolescent asshole.  He probably thinks she's got a back behind her with wolves waiting in the wings to pursue his herd.  Joke's on him.

"Stupid fuckin' deer," she snorts, giving her pelt a thorough shake to fling the wet that had accumulated there from the light drizzle.  Banshee gives a raucous laugh and turns about.  Only then does she realize she's not alone, despite her having pestered the deer.  Without even knowing if the other wolf is even looking at her, she barks out a snide, "Got a problem?" She's never been known for her conversational skills.  Some have claimed she has all the socialization of a rabid fox.

He would have been content to meander past the deer, like two ships passing in the dead of night. Slight acknowledgement, but little communication otherwise. Like the deer he tensed when he heard the thrashing of undergrowth and lifted his bewildered gaze to see a striking female, small but fierce, run amok amongst the gentle herbivores. They skittered and leapt, though occasionally some of the braver ones stamped their clever little hooves at her, the stag even deigned her enough of a nuisance to sway its antlers toward her, to brush her off. 

Bronco remained where he was lest he should disrupt a hunt which had strange tactics, though it became fairly clear early on that she was alone...And didn't seem too keen on actually making a kill. He scanned the herd, now suddenly interested given the fact that he was now completely ignored, in favour of keeping an eye on the more threatening creature. He focused in one one- a fearful but ignorant creature which had bolted away from the caped female, and kept its eyes on her- all the while bringing its rear end closer to Bronco. 

He remained still and quiet when she laughed, and he'd just begun to ready himself to make a daring, possibly foolish charge when she shouted a question at him, as though making an accusation. Her voice caused the young deer to startle and bound away, nearly jumping out of its skin when it realized how close it had come to Bronco. Her tenacity reminds him of Fennec. "Nowhere near as big a problem as you do, apparently" He responded with a dry laugh. "You got some of the worst hunting moves I ever seen."

the ones who challenge her are met with a boldness that borders on stupidity.  banshee barks and snaps at the stamping beasts, either brave, foolish, or a damning mix of both.  tongue lolling, she let a growl simmer in the back of her throat, unperturbed by the danger the hooves posed.  even as the stag shook his massive antlers in her general, hoping to ward off the reckless carnivore, she gives a keening laugh that booms out like thunder.   the energy she boasts doesn't die off, despite her newfound company.  instead, her mismatched gaze has found a new target of her seemingly endless energy.

"you think i was hunting? yeah, right," she guffaws, an ugly sound. "i was just chasin' 'em.  they're dumb and get scared of everything. i bet they thought a whole pack was coming after 'em with all the noise i was makin'!" banshee flexes her toes, nails digging into the earth beneath her.  the expression she carries suggests she's raring for another go at something or someone. "besides, i don't do any of that huntin' shit." she doesn't do much of anything, in fact.  as of now, she has no trade or aspiration.  she just kind of comes and goes.  striding forward, she moves to give him a sniff.

"you stink like a pack wolf," she assumes, knowing nothing of the packs of these lands.  the only reason she can even make this assumption is that he doesn't smell like a loner. "what're you gonna do, huh? chase me out? am i on your land?" the latter sentence is spoken in a fake baby-talk voice used intentionally to mock him.

There was a hawkish look to her features, and a glint in her mismatched eyes that proclaimed that this girl had spunk. When she spoke, it was with conviction, and loudly, though Bronco didn't mind. She didn't seem to be hostile or threatening- but he'd met wolves before who used their wild antics and outspoken opinions as plumage; generally, beneath all the layers of haberdashery was a wolf who was essentially harmless, so long as no one said something that might act as a match, and ignite something much more dangerous than your routine foreworks show. 

She was fiery, and had apparently quite enjoyed frightening the deer, chasing them off into the dark. Now, it seemed, she still had some pent-up energy left and he was the only one standing there in the glen, a solemn stone facing an oncoming whirlwind. He wasn't given much of an opportuntiy to speak- but he assumed she wasn't the sort who would tolerate being interrupted, anyway. So he smiled- but was surprised when she drew closer, bringing her dark, quivering nose closer to his- to take a sniff. Good-naturedly, he reached out to do the same, and thought he felt a little jolt of static leap between them. 

He was amused by her abrupt conclusion about him being a part of Moonspear, and he shot back with "And you reek of loneliness," He said, wondering how she might react to a shot like that being fired. "But no, this isn't my land" He said, tone mimicing the sporano she'd used, "And I don't usually chase away things that I figure are harmless." He was playful, but not without an edge- hoping he might catch another glimpse of her firecracker attitude without having her blow up completely in his face.

she had been perfectly fine to continue on as she was, yapping and carrying on, but this wolf had other ideas.  his retort is so seamlessly timed, so wholly unexpected, that she can do nothing but cackle.  she laughs for a good, few seconds before she can even begin to throw together some kind of reply. "that's funny," she admits, never one to deny when someone else gets her back (and well).  "you must think you're a funny guy." the loner surmises, sniffing as she coaxes herself down from that laughter high.

"what? you think 'cause i'm small, i'm harmless? big mistake," she fluffs up her fur in a big show, hackles raising as if perfectly on cue. "the last wolf that said that? dead. i killed him." the second part is added for maximum effect; banshee clearly doesn't believe he'd have assumed the meaning otherwise.  she has a habit of making wild and baseless assumptions.  it would be easy to say she's a liar but more accurate to call her an exaggerator or story-weaver.  she has selective memory and hearing, choosing to only remember and hear what she wants at any given time (so long as it benefits her and makes her look cool).

"i bet i could kick your ass," banshee alleges, eyes narrowing as a smirk crosses her lips. "you're probably -- what? like, eight moons old? i'll squash you like a bug."

He was surprised at her sudden, somewhat raucous bout of laughter, as she allowed herself to become unhinged and enjoy the comment he'd made. She had a lot of spunk, and despite being a bit rude, seemed quite comfortable in her own skin. He'd expected to be scoffed at, or perhaps to be given a roll of her mismatched eyes, but it seemed that she was a good sport about such things, and was more quck-to-laugh than he'd expected. He shrugged coolly. "I didn't think I was that funny, but apparently you think I'm a riot," He said with a slight chuckle, so he didn't come across as being too arrogant. 

His jab had had the desired effect though, and like an adder she puffed herself up and began to make claims that sounded like things he'd said...When he'd been a pup. Snarky, over-confident, and exaggerated. Over-compensating is what he would've figured, though he knew better than to say so. He didn't perceive a lot of sincerity emanating from her, regarding whether or not she'd ever killed a wolf, and suspected most of this was a show. Still, he humoured her- to a certain extent. "I'm sure you did. Probably with your breath." He commented with a chuff, wrinkling his nose to imply that with all the talking she did, she might've been making him nauseated from the smell. The hint of smile at his lips and in his eyes would probably betray him, though. 

"Pretty close. I'm not much more'n a wee baby, sure," He said, pausing to stretch out his back and shoulder muscles a bit, before he gave himself a shake, to get himself loosened up. His neck crackled audibly. "But this babe has teeth," He growled, and squared his stance. With an upward jerk of his chin he invited her forward, the devilish but playful grin on his features inviting her to put her moves where her mouth was.

"in your dreams," banshee snorts out the words which are quickly followed by another 'huff' of laughter.  at this point, her tail is lashing back and forth.  it's difficult to tell if this is out of agitation, amusement, or a mixture of both.  all she knows is that she's still chock-full of energy, and this wolf is goading her on.  the coywolf has never been one to deescalate any situation; so, far it for her to start beginning to do so now.  even as he comments on her breath (which hardly hurts her feelings; if anything, she would pride herself on such a characteristic), her naturally spiky fur is further bolstered by the perpetual rise of her hackles.

"your funeral, sparkles," is her last, immature retort before she bodily launches herself (all twenty-four inches of her height) at him.  initially, she moves forward to attempt to fake him out.  she play-bows left, then right, and then throws her momentum toward bronco in an authentic assault.  banshee tries to snap at the fleshy part of the left side of his face -- not looking for any sort of hold or significant purchase.  being as small as she is, her goal is always to bite and go, bite and go:  always in constant motion.  she hops around on her paws much more like her coyote ancestors than her bulkier wolf predecessors.  in her glaring lack of physical strength, she has agility on her side.

If nothing else, it was obvious that Banshee had a lot of energy. She seemed at once anxious, agitated and excited, perhaps as she'd not had enough of an uotlet to get rid of some of it. Chasing the deer had apparently been an attempt to get rid of some of the heebie-jeebies, but she still had enough electricity running through her veins to pick a fight with a total stranger- especially one who was larger, stronger, and bore scars that might indicate that he was also trained. Fortunately for her, he also bore the look oe one who was basically the wolf equivalent of the DJUNGELSKOG teddy bear from Ikea. 

He moved as she did, though his gait was easy, relaxed, the rangy stalk of a hunter. Given how she'd bolted at the deer earlier, expected something of the same now- and expected for her to be just as quick on her feet as she'd been then. He wasn't wrong- on the heels of her retort, Banshee faked in one direction and leapt against him in the other direction. He wasn't quick enough to move out of the way, so he felt her collide with his shoulder but yanked his jaw up, trying to keep it out of reach. She managed to pinch a chunk of fur at the lower edge of his jawline, and pulled it out with her clever teeth, leaving it to waft to the ground slowly. And by the time he went to snap back at her, she was already several feet away. She prances on her tiptoes, with a grace that might make him wonder if she couldn't skip across water if she tried. 

Making an attack against a wolf so swift would be terribly difficult for him; any attempt he made, he knew she would dance out of the way, and try to tire him out- so he wasn't going to give her that. As she moved, he moved toward her, but with the relaxed, steady gait of a well-mannered plow horse with a child on its back. He would only have a chance against her if he was able to get her to come in close- and that would take some risk. Testing to see if his theory was true, he lunged toward her once, teeth snapping; more in an attempt to spur her into motion than anything else.

it occurs to banshee somewhere mid-strike to wonder, 'hey, why the fuck does this wolf sparkle?'  the thought is so distracting that she almost forgets what she's doing entirely.  she clocks back into reality to spit out a mouthful of his fur -- some of which simply refuses to evacuate her mouth.  so, on top of coming back to earth somewhat confused, she's got hair on her tongue.  it's a weird feeling for sure--

and now she has a giant oaf of a wolf loping toward her.  she claws for clarity, trying to rein in her discombobulated thoughts.  on top of having the energy of a jumping spider on methamphetamines, she has the attention span of a human toddler (with, perhaps, a bit of the lack of object permanence, too).  so, he's trotting toward her, and she's inwardly flailing for some kind of reaction.  she doesn't even realize that he's not even moving that swiftly, just that he's big and heading toward her; therefore, that means she needs to, uh, do something. 

obviously, diving wildly beneath him with her belly dragging on the ground just... makes sense.  that's a normal maneuver that wolves do, right?  sure is.  she does that, never once questioning that in exactly no world would this work.  she flings herself directly at bronco like he's the immovable object, and she's the unstoppable force.  even if she does make it beneath him, it's jarring as hell.  any impact rattles her teeth and her bones.  he snaps at something, but she sure as shit doesn't know what.  her whole body feels like an electric chainsaw (if she actually knew what one was); and now, suddenly, here she is, on the ground.

this is definitely how fighting works, for sure.

He timed his lunge so that he might be precise, knowing that if he rushed into anything in particular that she'd easily be able to out-maneuver him. It was very much like facing off against a coyote- nimble and quick, and always looking for whatever they could use to their advantage. She didn't dart away, which made him glad that he hadn't lunged in a clumsy manor- otherwise, she might've simply been spooked and avoided him. She balked, though, which was exactly what he'd hoped for- but things wouldn't go as he'd planned. 

Rather than holding her ground to meet him, she darted- diving toward him, but sneaking herself so low to the ground that she skidded right beneath him, writhing in the dust. He was stunned stiff for a moment, but when he realized she was just about as surprised as he was- he quickly snapped into action, dropping his weight deftly upon her, so that he could lie across her mid-section, as he grinned over his shoulder to catch her response.

if this is how fighting is, she hates it -- 100%, absolutely hates it.  how wolves genuinely like this shit?  she doesn't know.  one minute, they're doing the dance, coming to blows; the next, she's on the ground, and he is bodily on top of her (like, literally).  he is actually on top of her, and oh, my god, holy shit.  having size to his advantage, it isn't difficult for the other wolf to render her stuck.  all the same, she starts yapping, barking, and swearing up a storm, fidgeting like a fox having a fit.

"get off'a me, jackass!" she brays out the words, wriggling around as though this will, somehow, improve her situation. "fat lard!" now she's just resorting to insults.  it doesn't matter if they're true or not.  banshee knows that she has no physical way to combat her current predicament; ergo, she is going to be mean. "hey, don't look at me like that! i'll bite you where it hurts!" she threatens ominously, her mismatched eyes glowering with the intent of her promise.  anything to make her seem more menacing, she intends to throw it at him.  fleetingly, it occurs to her that she doesn't even know this big doofus' name.

"you cheat."

The bucking and squirming of her angular hips and elbows against his soft underside made him flinch, and the moment she began to snap and squeal like an animal caught in a trap he awkwardly tried to get to his feet- collapsing once as one of her elbows caught him just below the curve of his ribcage. He choked on a gasp of air for a moment, and her insults whistled over his head as he tried to collect himself and step off her. He perceived her wild opposition to be genuine, and it cost Bronco a great deal of conviction to see someone yelp in honest pain, fear or frustration. 

"Sorry! Sorry, jeez!" He spluttered as he sidestepped, stumbling clumsily away from her in an attempt to potentially avoid the lashing of her teeth should she make good on her threat; and he unknowingly tucked his tail as though to protect that which she threatened to harm. He wasn't offended by being labelled a cheat- as he believed pinning the other wolf down was potentially one of the most harmless ways to win a spar...Though considering the difference in their size and height, he felt shame settle in like a fog around his shoulders. Maybe he was a cheat- or, at least, he'd maybe invested in a fight that was fairly unfair to begin with. Similarly to how it sickened him to realize he'd potentially hurt someone, it also weighed heavily on his sentimental soul that he'd done something unfair. "I give," He offered, "You win," He confessed, lowering his head in deference, hoping that it might calm her riled spirit.

this is the first time in her life she's ever had someone fully lie down on her.  then again, she's nearly two, and there's a first time for everything.  banshee is still trying to come to grips with what's happening when he very inelegantly topples off of her.  they probably look crazy to any onlookers (though, she doubts there is any, except for maybe, like, squirrels).  here they are:  two full-grown apex predators, flailing wildly on the ground.  it's really kind of funny when she thinks about it.  then he has to go on and ruin it by conceding.

"so, you're a cheat and a wimp?" she retaliates brutally, hackles rising and nostrils flaring.  in her mind, she looks absolutely fierce.  in reality?  she's little more than a playground bully blowing smoke. "you just gonna give up, like that?" banshee spits the words out with palpable disgust.  she has no zero to sixty; she is always dialed up to eleven.  shaking out her pelt, she sends various strands or small bits of fur flying and then sneezes crudely. "you're no fun. what's your name, anyway? doesn't matter. i'm just gonna call you sparkles." she gestures her muzzle toward his coat, thinks for a moment, and then glances down at her own.

"hey! you got that shit all over me!" the wildling runs in a circle, arching her neck awkwardly to try to peer at her back. "what is this? some kinda cootie dust for pansies?"

Her insult failed to wound him, and he merely shook his head and chuckled. Not a wimp or a cheat- but he'd come to the point now, with Banshee, to tell that she likely didn't have a lot of wolves treat her with civility and if they had, it seemed to make her uncomfortable. Her default reaction to most things, it seemed, was to go from being defensive to being offensive, and it screamed insecurity at him. And not wanting to make her feel self-conscious, he'd indulge her. "You're right, both I guess," He conceded with a soft chuckle. 

Even when she asked him questions, she didn't really give him much time to answer, so he remained silent while she sorted things out herself, eventually deciding that he would be called Sparkles, which made him roll his eyes. At least if he'd made no other impression on her, he'd certainly left a good shimmer of mica dust on her, which also seemed to perplex her. This, he enjoyed. "You call me Sparkles, I'mma call you Glitterbug."

Oh, this guy is getting on her nerves.  How does nothing seem to bother him?  Other wolves she's met always fly off the handle so quickly, but this one?  He's a different breed altogether.  She narrows her eyes.  Banshee has never hidden her emotions well.  Actually, it's safe to say she doesn't even know how to.  So, right now, it's abundantly clear that she's annoyed.  She's used to getting her way, to being able to rile up other wolves without much effort.  Now that the tables are turned, she isn't taking too kindly to it at all.

"No," she barks. "I'm Banshee, and you're Sparkles. That's how this works," the loner declares as though her word is law, and should he break it, there'll be consequences. "And, anyway, what gives?  I can't get you to fight for nothin'.  Doesn't anything make you mad?"

Banshee? Well, from what he could remember of folk tales he'd heard, Banshees were withy, noisy creatures that screamed a lot- so whoever it was that had named her had obviously done a good job. Perhaps it was a name she'd chosen for herself- but either way, he liked it. She was a mercurial thing, not content, apparently, unless there was some form of spark for her to fan into a fire. Maybe she was simply more comfortable dealing with potentially harmful wolves because she didn't like the vulnerability it took to be calm and honest. He wondered what was best, then- to prompt her to reach into her insecurities and see that good wolves existed, or to simply let her be and pick at her just enough to make her feel secure?

"I see," He said. He was calm, still, but there was a crookedness to his smile and sparkle in his eyes when he spoke again. "Well I like calling you Glitter more, so that's what I'm gonna call you." He said, with a simple shrug of his shoulder. It wasn't the truth- he liked her actual name quite a lot- but he figured this might actually make her feel better than receiving an actual compliment. "I do get mad. But you'd have to try pretty damn hard to make me mad," He said, with a shrug. While he was content to tease her playfully, he didn't care to perpetuate the belief he suspected she had that all wolves harboured a dark spirit, somewhere. It didn't feel fair to him to enable all the others who had potentially made Banshee wary of true kindness.

There's a fury building within her that seems to be coming to a boil.  The more he speaks, the angrier she gets.  She stares at him like he's grown two heads.  A growl simmers deep in her throat.  She lowers her head over her neck, and her ears pin back.  He's bigger than she is, but then again, aren't most wolves?  In her head, she's making a plan -- one that will clearly solve her current problem (which is, that this wolf is too nice, and she doesn't like it).

"So, you're sayin' if I attack you, you won't hit back. That it?" each word is a bite, a verbal indication of what she intends to resort to.  Violence brews in her like a high-category hurricane. "I'll mark your face up!" It's the last threat she makes before she leaps for him, jaws snapping wildly.  She's not looking to kill or maim, but she wants to hurt him somehow, to get him to lash out, to attack her back.  Enough of his sickly sweet demeanor.  She wants to kill the kindness in him with her teeth.

Wow. He hadn't expected for her to wind herself way back up again, and his attempt at giving her a safe place to be calm clearly had not work- in fact, he was pretty sure in the blink of a moment between her threat and her attack, that he'd actually made things worse. The solid proof came next, when she summoned her dart-like speed and with the sudden ferocity of a whil curling and cracking, she leapt at him, snapping at his face. He'd thought she might simply be sarcastic, playful, independent- but there was wickedness within her, maybe, that he'd overlooked. 

And while he didn't hold it against her, he wasn't going to simply let her savage his face so that she could see that she could inflict pain on others without learning a lesson from it. He braced for her attack, and felt her jaws snap at his cheeks, though he squinted to protect his eyes, and felt her clamp down at least once on one of his ears- but at least this way, he had her in close. And that was all he needed. 

In her savage fury, she might not have noticed that Bronco had prepared himself, and as soon as her snapping jaws were out of the way, he aimed to grab her by the thick fur along the side of her neck- where it cascaded into the silver of starlight- and raised one of his forepaws to her shoulder. With a wrenching motion that involved using all of his upper body strength, he aimed to grab her and brace one paw against her shoulder, before reeling sideways with the intention of smacking her down into the earth once again.

Bronco correctly assumes she has no idea he's already bested her before she even starts.  She has no way of knowing that his trade demands that he be ready for violence just like this.  All she sees is red and a fire that needs to be snuffed out.  Wolves like him make her sick to her stomach -- so nice and good, and for what?  What has the world ever done for him?  It's almost like she blacks out as she attacks him.  She gets one of his ears in her mouth, and her teeth grind.  

The motion is fleeting, though.  He's stronger than she is, of course, and within seconds, before she even knows what happened, she's on the ground with a thud.  She manages to release his ear but not before her teeth grate over it.  Good.  At least she's done something to him.  She won't have to leave with her tail between her legs.

"See? You can get mad," she asserts petulantly. "Being bad is better than being nice.  You don't have to pretend so much."

He winced as she was torn from his ear with her jaws still engaged, and blood began to seep from the two clean gashes she left behind and down into the darker fur around the crown of his head. He didn't hear her hit the ground, but he was well aware that he'd smacked her down and away from him just soon enough so that she couldn't tear his ear clean off. He shook his head as though trying to rid himself of the pain, but only ended up flinging a couple droplets of blood down his withers. 

He was still tense, in case she retaliated, but she actually seemed quite pleased with herself, and there was something distinctively coyote-like to the smug grin on her face that he hadn't noticed before. He was a bit ruffled, having been attacked with sudden savagery that he'd been forced to defend himself- but he cooled down quickly enough, and uttered a somewhat dry, brittle chuckle. "I wasn't really mad," He said, slipping into a more comfortable skin as he continued. "I just like my face is all. I'd kinda like to keep it the way it is," He said, though he knew he would have to boast the two clefts in his ear now, that weren't likely to heal back together. That was fine- he'd take it. It'd probably look pretty cool once it healed up. "And you know...You don't have to pretend to be angry all the time just to seem more tough," He said. He wasn't sure how she'd take the advice, so he tacked on a compliment. "S'pretty obvious you're a badass."

Just as quickly as he'd reacted to her violence with a bit of his own (though, admittedly, his had those gag-worthy goody-goody tactics only knights used), he was subdued again.  Her almost comically large ears fall back.  Staring goodness in the face doesn't suit her.  His refusal to treat her badly is making her so uncomfortable that she doesn't know how to respond.  It's making her stomach feel weird and the skin under her pelt itch.  Unless he stops her, she's going to try to scramble out from under him and scoot out of his reach.  Compliment or not, she knows she has to get the hell out of here.

"Whatever," she spits the word out like poison. "Don't you have a girl to save from a fire or something?" Her hackles are raised, but she's already turning away from him.  Bronco's rattled her in a way that she doesn't know how to articulate.  Banshee's never been the smartest wolf.  Her emotional intelligence is abysmal at best.  All she knows right now is that she needs to put as much distance between her and this sparkling fool as possible.  If he doesn't try to intercept her, she's going to trot off into the brush and, hopefully, out of sight.

It seemed that Banshee wasn't very comfortable being complimented, and had had just about enough of him. She was silly, he thought, to be so very defensive, and to live life with such a short fuse, though it did make him worry for her as he watched her stalk off. If she continued to strut her away around like that, provoking every wolf she met, at some point in her life she might come across a wolf who wasn't Bronco, and who wouldn't back off when she got pinned. He huffed a small sigh, and wished her the best, silently, as he turned to return to his pack.