Redhawk Caldera kavlunak

Kigipigak ranged south instead of following the path to the mountain. It seemed an easier task than moving around the glen tribe with its heavy scents (young as those scents tasted); Kigipigak delved in to the forest for a time.

When he emerged at a thinning place replete with graze lines he held a rabbit by the haunch. Its shoulders twitched, its broken neck rolling. It was a fat and lazy creature plucked from a poorly dug burrow—it must have been young too, or perhaps Kigipigak had been exceptionally lucky.

He was ready to tuck-in for a quick meal when Kigipigak noticed the transitioning angles of the earth; beyond this forest sat a mountain but it wasn't a mountain; one without the usual toothy point. Intrigued by the shape of it, Kigipigak moved closer and found himself perched dangerously upon an imnak and so he began to search for a safe way down.

The rabbit was forgotten, though it bobbed as he walked.

Phox noted an intruder's scent while making his rounds this morning, and his lip curled back into a snarl. It was true that their claim here was fairly recent, but only a real idiot would waltz in to a territory so clearly marked. Not only that, but a thin trail of blood followed the path that the interloper had blazed. Phox's hackles raised along his spine, and soon he was pounding his feet against the earth in search of whoever had decided to make this mistake.

Though he did not have the same mercenary experience as his sister, Phox protected his home when needed, and this was one of those times. The white creature was heading downward, and Phox began to sprint down the slopes he had grown up on, a fierce growl unleashed on the trespasser.

While taking his time to find his way Kigipigak was set upon by a roar that came from behind him, causing him to lift his head and turn sharply to meet the oncoming force that was Phox; he dropped the rabbit when his muzzle hinged, then stepped aside, or tried to—only to miss the ridge and step on air. 

He went down hard against a mess of stone. The rocks ground in to his chest. The shock of the moment dulled that cutting pain as Kigipigak struggled not to fall from the ledge to his death.

As he got to his feet he saw the rabbit's carcass sitting out of reach along another segment further down, tangled in fern, dusted by soil that clung to the blood puddle now seeping from its wounds.

Ahh! The gift! He half-hissed through clenched teeth.

Phox's own feet came to a skidding stop just before the ledge, watching as the white wolf tumbled closer to what Phox hoped would be death. The trespasser was not yet dead or gone, and the vibrations in Phox's throat were anything but friendly or welcoming. His ears slicked back against his skull while the stranger teetered on the edge. The smell of blood hit his nose, and Phox's lips curled upward.

This was his last warning before Phox would make sure he never saw the light of day again.

The gift abandoned, it was clear by the way the stranger continued to warn him off the path that Kigipigak was not welcome here; he had only meant to do the traditional thing and gift the tribe who was giving up their woman, but it occurred to Kigipigak as he turned to flee that - perhaps - they were not so keen on losing Chanel. Tail scything at his belly, Kigipigak scrambled to get a move on and left as quickly as he had come.

The threat fled, and Phox huffed in his wake. Knowing nothing of the wolf's intentions had made Phox think one thing, and one thing only: trespasser. The Regent watched as long as it took for the light furred stranger to disappear before he resumed his normal duties.