The Sunspire The sound of their tongues being bitten is all I hear.

There was a scent upon the wind that drew Sivugat out of hiding in his canyon; it was not the Saint's any longer, not since they had abandoned it, abandoned him. In the days to follow he had been the one to mind the caches; he had followed the worn trails they had left behind and pissed on all that remained of their mark, obliterating it, though he found no joy in the act. It was merely the call of nature - and the rotten food which moved hastily through his system.

He had lost a little weight during his solitary stay among the red rocks. The scent was like blood, and it was warm, but not exactly inviting, and somehow familiar. It could have been Nyra returning from their jaunt in to the vale for all Sivugat knew; likewise, food or someone lost, which Sivugat could take advantage of.

His hunger drove him away from the canyon and up, across a bald-faced hill that became a tinder-dry meadow lined with ancient trees. As the boy drew away from the path his steps sank in to mud and sopping leaf-litter, and he began to investigate the earth there, tasting it with a flick of his tongue.

the saints were not here.

the war, arrested. 

germanicus too had wished for nyra to atone. but he had also not wished to go to war.

he did not know the large young man who stood ahead of him. the imperator had not caught his scent in the vale. and yet the eagle let his hackles raise all the same, and stalked forward with a focused air. a threat. a challenge.

The boy did not know who this was. It was not a Saint, but they smelled of sand and clay, not unlike the canyon paths. The look about them gave Sivugat pause; he did not move closer and instead watched as the stranger moved of their own accord, drawing along with a well placed stride and sombre expression. The way their silver-flecked coat prickled gave the boy a thrill.

The hesitation was not long-lasting. When it became clear the other wolf was advancing with ill intent Sivugat lowered his head, taking on a bear-like hunch, and rumbled a low warning. The fur along his nape fluffed up a bit while the rest of him serrated, not unlike his predecessor. At his hocks shifted his tail, snapping at the grass.

The sky overhead, already grown overcast, distantly rumbled.

"we search for the saints. you will be cut down if you are one of them."

it was the eagle's only warning. the younger wolf was brawny, with a hewn look that promised crushing violence.

the thunder drove him on.

he halted only a short spate of feet away and gathered himself for the clash.

His expression did not shift. In the shadows cast by the trees the boy's brown eyes were black and empty, his face well masked, his body arched and ready to defend itself.

Sivugat thought the man looked old when he drew close enough. The silver in his coat was remarkably fine. The hard look upon his face could have meant many things but Sivugat saw dead eyes and sunken cheeks.

Ain't a saint, Sivugat declared.

The boy stalked higher and felt the mud sucking at his toes as he pulled each step free, watching the old man intently. Leaves stuck to his wet legs, tangled in his tail.

A closer rumble this time, as he prowled on stiff legs.

"but you know them."

the eagle's words were steel.

he moved as the boy did, advancing, shifting to cover a potential retreat. he did not fear battle. 

the mud turned his own ankles to a shifting greyish brown. germanicus sought the eyes of the other and applied a steady dominance.

Now it was the old man's eyes changed. They did not become alive, only focused, trained upon Sivugat's face in a manner that the boy did not appreciate. He did not like to be looked at; too many days had been spent with his own thoughts as company that Sivugat did not know what to do with eyes upon him.

I know them. He lifted his lip as he said it. His eyes were locked upon the ragged figure, wanting very much to seek another path, or an angle of attack, or something that would ease the tension that he felt. The anger at being stared at, or talked to, or controlled.

He could not take his eyes from the threat of the man.

I know they're afraid to fight. His voice is rough. Sivugat sneered through his bare teeth, unaware that his path of egress was being cut off, and still somehow confident of himself. He had survived this long as the punching bag of many different people — what could an old man do?

germanicus did not waver in his persistent weighted stare.

"who are they fighting?" he tested. the boy did not seem fearful. and yet there was a mien about him the eagle did not understand.

was this one of their scouts? perhaps a sentry, ready to flag nyra to safety.

the imperator advanced, a broadshield ready to take the crack of this feral spear.

The question was a flash, the teeth clipping air - thunder cracking.

The rain began soon after.

Sivugat caught nothing of the man in his teeth, his lunge sucking the taste of the rain out of the air. For his age the man could move far better than the boy ever could.

The boy doesn't have an answer.

What did it matter who it was? He could not recall if Nyra had named them; only that she had come and gone, and that it was days ago, and he had not thought about her since, except when Aventus had surprised him.

This man was not Ursus, and so Sivugat was silent.

he was not of the saints. but he hovered too close and in too much knowingness.

and so germanicus advanced again, his teeth flashing in the misted air. it was an interrogation and a goading.

he waited for the backlash of that heavy muzzle, clawed feet finding purchase on the dampening stones.

the eagle did not wish for blood. but he would take it when given so freely.

Branches quaked overhead to the tempo of the worsening rain.

The man moved fluidly towards him, as if he could evade the drops, and while the boy was left briefly wondering if the man had the reach to worry about, there came the flash of teeth too close to Sivugat - the gut instinct to swerve and lunge himself, towards the danger, to cuff the man's ankle with a bite.

Low now, barely above the rocks littering the path, and snaking after the stranger with the intent to come in close and strike upward; it was not quick but deliberate and well telegraphed.

the boy snapped for his ankle and swung upward in a punch that blistered the air.

germanicus felt compromised by long days and sleepless nights. the other's blow bruised his jawline. the eagle whirled away and cut down. he meant to use the larger wolf's impetus against him.

the only thought in his mind now was to see crowfeather once more. to know that he lived.

The blow surprised Sivugat as much as it appeared to for the man. Often enough in his training with Nyra or the others of the Saints, for that short time among them, the boy had been well beaten. His training had gone nowhere, or so it felt.

He could not be quick or secret in his movements. He was too big. The clip of his teeth against the man's face - so near the throat - gave rise to that bloodthrill he had scented on the wind; this time it thrummed throughout his body.

Lunging again, greedily, and aiming in a haphazard manner for the man's chest, or neck, or even belly, Sivugat was eager to bowl him over and prove his superiority, even for only a moment.

germanicus anticipated an intensified attack.

the boy lost his moment as his snaps became eager and uncontrolled. the eagle retreated until the mud caught him once more and there he lured the fighter.

he was not large. but he was older.

the eagle darted forward and sliced for just behind the brawny arm.

The way the man acted was decisive. He had honed his craft in battle, while the boy had only begun to learn these things before the Saints had vanished. He thought himself well-versed to pain and bloodshed, however Sivugat's knowledge was tremendously limited.

Teeth sliced his side. Red streaked readily through the mud in his coat.

Sivugat might have felt the pain of it. The hit winded him and made him reel sideways for a step. Adrenaline spiked through him next and soon the boy was swimming in it; the rain was cold and sucked the feeling of everything else away.

Staggering now, and oh so angry.

A low grunt of displeasure showcases Sivugat's next move, shoving himself forward through the mud to put distance between himself and the man, and see if he would chase.

germanicus would not chase.

he gave a low and sharp call for akashingo now. 

if anything he wanted the boy brought to heel and questioned. theirs was not a fight of honor.

surrender now, the eagle's eyes commanded.

Sivugat had hoped the man old and feeble and found the opposite. He had also hoped to lure the man through the mud or towards a ledge, to see how nimble those little legs of his could be.

Instead there came a call, and the glare of an eye.

Petulant with distance, Sivugat raised a hind leg and let fly a yellow stream which he hoped would carry down-wind. He stepped carefully along the grass and let his claws cut the earth, feeling proud despite the red of blood seeping from the tear in his skin.

germanicus was displeased and unimpressed.

the boy was not one of the saints. 

eventually ramesses himself came along, though the pale of his fur was not yet near enough to hear any words exchanged.

"this is your final chance." the eagle's voice hung softly.

The shadow was not alone. The man that came next was far younger, brighter, and carried himself less like a wolf and more like a stag in rut.

Sivugat thought they made a bizarre pair; but there was time still to goad the man to fight further.

I said they do not fight. They went away to hide.

The boy did not know if the new golden man would come to the shadow's aid, or if he was only here for observation sake. The odds were swiftly declining out of Sivugat's favor, if he held any to begin with.

Sivugat looked to where the newcomer moved, seeing flashes of gold between the ferns, around the heavy spires of old trees. He grimaced more for the poor fortune than the pain in his side, and then looked towards the elder, grim.

They're not worth chasing.

the mountain of a boy reiterated what he had already said.

ramesses glittered now the roman's side. sihaya would soon come, and the others of the mesa.

"tell me who you are. tell me what you are doing here."

pharaoh scoffed. "cut his throat," he urged in a purr. 

the eagle did not waver. ramesses demonstrated the narrowing moments in which the stranger had to explain himself.

The answer stung the man, which pleased Sivugat. He made demands that fled his tongue like vapor, going on to join the clouds overhead, which continued to piss rain upon them all.
The turn of the shadow's ear indicated something else was said but Sivugat did not catch what came from the spritely golden man, as he only had eyes for the elder, who continued in his own way to stare.

A boy has no name. He said, thinking he was being clever.

Of all the names he had been given, or had earned, or had tried on by himself in the dark, none had felt fitting. The last one he had been given by the giant woman as part of a contract, but in fleeing the canyon, Sivugat saw that contract null and void.

He was nobody now — again, always.

germanicus was finished.

ramesses would be worthless in battle. but he followed the imperator's approach.

chuffing for @Sihaya, germanicus leapt again to gnash teeth against the bleeding wound. this one must be a testament to the control of akashingo. if an ursus wolf happened upon them now, the eagle would no longer control this situation.

Dark skies cried rain that soaked them all. Sihaya heeded the general’s call and from the shadows he snaked like a dangerous viper. The masked man’s orange leer regarded their foe – a massive yearling… but physical size could not compare to the ego that was Akashingo’s. Like a sharpened shiv, Sihaya was light of foot and swift of fang. He struck out in tandem with the Roman to bring down their outnumbered foe.

Last from me!

The shadow moved to circumvent Sivugat's departure, while the golden man loped the other way to cut him off there; and out of the shadows came something sharp and quick, cutting at Sivugat before he could get a look, or even think to retaliate. He knew now there was no chance to win — and so he lunged down the hill.

The action opened him up to kick with a hind leg, one which was now bleeding from a bite to the hock, and staggered him immediately. The boy snarled and snapped towards the golden man, rounding towards where the elder shadowed him and then down, away, bolting - falling, there was no difference.

He had to get away before he was properly surrounded.

last also!

germanicus did not follow. he flagged sihaya to a halt with an authoritative slash of his tail. "we will not split our numbers for one wolf."

ramesses sneered after the retreating fool. "death to him if i see his face again."

germanicus said nothing, only turned, leading a quick return back to where they would find the wolves of ursus grappling with two foes.