Overture Downs can't stand it

AW!

briggs blinked slowly, the world around him unfamiliar but oddly quiet. the air was sharp and cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pines. 
he stood still, ears swiveling to catch any sound, but there was nothing urgent in the silence. his calm never wavered—years of discipline tempered the edges of uncertainty. 
it was unfamiliar, yes, but he’d learned long ago that panic served no purpose. his calm was unshaken, his mind already working, cataloging the sights, scents, and sounds. the ground beneath his paws was soft, the kind that held tracks well, and he made a mental note to check his trail later.
he couldn’t recall how he’d come to be here, but he didn’t need answers right now. years of service had taught him to assess, adapt, and move forward. 
his scars itched faintly under his thick coat, reminders of the countless times he’d faced the unknown and come out the other side. briggs let out a low breath, steady and sure. wherever this place was, it would tell him what he needed in time. for now, he would move—calm, and with purpose. always forward.

twitch weaved through the undergrowth in silence, passing the through forest floor with ease. her run in with cole gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. she'd been stupid, didn't think before she spoke. she'd regretted it, but she didn't apologize. no need to make it worse for herself.

she shoved the thought aside with a huff. her escape from the valley was meant to be a reprieve, not a retreat—or so she told herself.

her ears flicked at the faint sound of movement ahead, snapping twigs. she slowed, instincts prickling, and melted into the shadows of a dense thicket instinctively. the wind betrayed him first—sharp and brined, a far-off scent she couldn’t place, carried on a body she didn't recognize. her gaze sharpened, catching the figure just as he paused.

a stranger. she stared at him through the brush for a long moment. assessing, debating. he was tall and composed, broad, a stark contrast to herself. the tension built in her chest as she debated her next step, body buzzing with warmth. avoidance was safer, simpler, but she wasn’t about to slink off like a coward, not without a better reason than 'stranger danger'.

she glanced off, back towards her territory. dappled light caught the bridge of her nose as she raised her head. when she looked back, he had spotted her, stared her down just as she did him. no chance of leaving now, she thought.

---

this guy seems interesting !!! happy to be his first thread <3

thanks for joining!

he saw her. the small thing that she was. though it would be a mistake to categorize her as weak— muscle tone lingered beneath her agouti coat. he made quick assumption of her twitching attitude, and deemed her not a threat.
'ya just gonna stare? he called out, voice rippling over the wave tones in the air. his cadence stretching further, hoping to allow his muzzle to poke skyward to get a whiff of her.
a pack wolf. did she have a squadrant? where was her captain?
many questions. many things the greying man could ask of her, but he did not. there was no use, depending on how she answered his first question. he needed to assess her further.

she shifted, creeping further into the open with a few steps. sunlight caught the streaks of tawny in her dark pelt as she stared on, assessing. He wasn’t bluffing; that much was clear in the way he held himself, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he carried it with practiced ease. not hostile, but far from inviting.

for a moment, she said nothing, her gaze darting to the slight lift of his muzzle. he was cataloging her—her scent, trying to gauge who she was or what she was capable of, maybe. she held his gaze, her silence deliberate, tense but not aggressive. whatever assessment he’d made of her, she let it hang between them without challenge.

after a moment, she shrugs. “might,” the girl tells him, “would it bother you?” weird question. it probably would, if he was the one to bring it up.

briggs didn’t move at first, only his gaze shifting, slow and steady, across the stretch of land between them. the way she crept forward wasn’t threatening, but it wasn’t nothing either. deliberate. measured. assessing—just like him.
his ears flicked, catching the subtle sound of her weight pressing into the earth. his breath stayed even, his stance unchanged, but there was an edge in his eyes now.
might.
his jaw tightened, just a fraction.
would it bother you?
weird question. she knew that. but she asked anyway.
briggs exhaled, finally breaking the quiet with the softest tilt of his head, just enough to let her know he heard her. his eyes flicked away for the briefest moment—across the landscape, to the stretch of trees, the sky, the nothingness around them.
it did. yeah.
he didn’t like being watched. more than that, he didn’t like not knowing why.
his gaze settled back on her, heavier now, something unreadable in it.
depends, he said, voice even, rough but not harsh. what are you looking for?

twitch held her ground, tail flicking idly behind her. his voice was steady, but cutting enough to make her pause and think before answer. usually she didn't do much of that. what was she looking for? she wasn’t sure she even knew the answer herself. if she did, she probably would've wandered off by now.

her ears swiveled, catching the faint rustle of distant leaves as she tilted her head, mimicking him, mock curiosity playing at her expression, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "nothing in particular," she mused back, lips twitching into the ghost of an amused smile. "—what’s there to find?"

there was nothing funny, not really, except maybe this exchange. he probably wouldn't think so, but that was a reoccurring theme, she'd found.

briggs said nothing.
his gaze lingered, steady, unflinching, the weight of it heavier than words. he did not tilt his head this time, did not give her the satisfaction of mirrored curiosity. he only watched. assessed.
the silence stretched, thick as morning fog, settling between them like something neither had the inclination to move. his ears flicked once—barely a movement—acknowledging her words but offering nothing in return.
there is nothing here. it seems. barren.
his jaw tightened, a slow breath leaving him through his nose. if she was looking for something, she’d either find it or she wouldn’t. it wasn’t his concern.
but she was still here. still watching. still talking.
nothin'. he grumbled. why're you still here?

twitch huffed, a quiet sound—half amusement, half exasperation. his answer told her nothing, which, she supposed, was an answer in itself.

"dunno. no where else to be." she admitted, though there was a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "why are you?" she didn’t expect an answer, not really. he was guarded, the type to let silence speak for him, and twitch wasn’t in the habit of prying where she wasn’t wanted; if he wanted her gone, she'd continue past him like she'd intended.

her gaze flicked over him once more, sharp and fleeting, before she finally stepped back—not in retreat, but in something close to concession. "guess it doesn’t matter." dismissive.

briggs’ teeth clicked together, a sharp, irritated sound as his eyes darkened. a muscle in his jaw twitched.
where the fuck are your parents?
his voice was rough, cutting through her dismissal like a blade. whatever patience he had was wearing thin, scraping against the edge of something sharper. no where else to be. what kind of answer was that? a kid wandering around alone, acting like it didn’t matter, like she didn’t matter—like he was supposed to just accept that and move on.
he took a step forward, not threatening, but heavy with purpose.
you talk like you ain't got a place to go, he said, low and biting. so i’ll ask again—who’s supposed to be lookin’ after you?
his tail flicked sharply behind him, agitation bleeding into every inch of his stance. it wasn’t his problem. it wasn’t. but it pissed him off anyway.

she’d been called kid before, sure, but she thought this was a bit of an exaggeration. twitch was more than capable of taking care of herself—she didn’t need her mommy, and she definitely didn’t like her daddy.

her tongue slides over her maw as she rests back on her haunches. “obviously not here,” it’d been more than a year since she’d last seen either of them. “bit too old for them anyway.”

’so I’ll ask again—who’s supposed to be lookin’ after you?’ well that was never the question in the first place.

he was pissed—she could hear it in the scrape of his voice, see it in the way he bristled like he was gearing up for a fight that wasn’t even there. she didn’t know why, it wasn’t like she was starving or on the verge of death.

”and you talk like just popped out the damn womb, so I guess we both got problems.” she huffed, shifting her weight. ”what’s it to you, anyway?" she asked, voice flatter now, more guarded. The fuck was his deal, he didn’t even know her.

briggs coiled, his muscles tensing beneath his thick coat, but he did not strike. anger flared hot in his chest, tempered only by discipline, by the years that had shaped him into something more than just raw instinct. he was a soldier, not some wild dog snapping at the first thing that pissed him off.
his breath left him slow, measured, but there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes when he leveled her with his stare.
what’s it to me?
his lips curled—not quite a snarl, but damn close.
not a damn thing.
dismissive. absolute. like the conversation was already over, already beneath him.
she wanted to act grown, fine. she wanted to be sharp-tongued and flippant, like she didn’t need anyone, like it didn’t matter? fine. but there was something about it that set his teeth on edge, something too familiar, too fucking close to things he’d seen before.
you got problems, alright, he muttered, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the whole damn interaction. but they ain’t mine.

her jaw tightened, irritation prickling down her spine. not a damn thing. she hardly believed him—he wouldn't have asked, otherwise, but that was the correct answer.

she should’ve let it go. should’ve shrugged, scoffed, turned on her heel and left like none of this meant anything. because it didn't. that’s what she would’ve done. But something about the way he said it—something about the way he looked at her, like she was a problem he was choosing not to deal with—made her hackles bristle. raises old memories she wasn’t fond of.

"uh-huh, sure." she deadpanned, something biting curling at the edges of her words. "that why you look like you wanna maul somethin', or is that just your general demeanor?" she doesn't expect an answer anyway, but it comes out light-hearted enough not to encourage him into doing so.

she should’ve left it at that, turned and went back to bearclaw, yet the way he looked at her like she was something he didn't know how to deal with. fuckin' shit... shoulda woulda coulda, she supposed.

her ears flicked forward, sharp. "well, if you’re done with your little tantrum, old man, i’ll be on my way." her lips curved into the ghost of a smirk as she side stepped him, tossed him a look over her shoulder; an invitation to follow without words. "wouldn’t wanna be your problem anyway."

---

sorry shes a little shit UIBREBRI if you'd like we can fade or he can follow C:

the kid had a mouth on her—sharp, biting, like a stray dog that’d been kicked one too many times and learned to snarl before anyone could get too close. it pissed him off. not because of what she said, but because of what sat underneath it.
his ears flicked forward at her last words, at the look she tossed him over her shoulder—casual, like she didn’t give a shit if he followed, but open enough that she wouldn’t mind if he did.
tantrum, he echoed, a scoff under his breath, but his paws were already moving.
he followed.
not because she wanted him to. not because she was his problem. but because something in his gut told him she didn’t have anyone else doing it. and that? that was the part that pissed him off the most.

twitch heard him before she saw him—heavy footfalls at her back.

her ear flicked back, but she didn’t stop. didn’t turn. if he wanted to follow, she didn't really mind. she wasn’t gonna ask him to stay, wasn’t gonna ask him to leave, either.

"n' here i thought i wasn’t your problem," she muttered, voice dry, almost amused. she kept her pace, slipping between the trees with practiced ease.

she could shake him if she wanted to. knew she could slip away by the hollow a little south of here, she'd done it before. knew the quickest ways to escape, and yet, she didn’t. didn't consider him much of a threat, not by his intentions.

instead, she exhaled, low and even, and cast him a sideways glance. "got a name?"

briggs didn’t answer right away. just kept walking, his stride steady, unhurried.
his ear twitched. she thought she was clever, didn’t she?
he exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so damn dry.
you ain’t, he said, voice flat. just happen to be goin’ the same way.
wasn’t true. wasn’t a lie, either.
he followed because he felt like it, not because she needed him to. not because he gave a shit. and if he did—well, that wasn’t a conversation he was interested in having.
his gaze flicked to her, unreadable in the low light. he let the silence hang for a second, maybe just to be difficult, then—
briggs.
nothing else. no elaboration. no offering it up like it meant anything. just a fact, plain as the dirt beneath his paws.

twitch hummed, a low, idle sound as if she were weighing the words in her head. she didn't quite believe him, but this time she made no comment on it.

she glanced at him then, just for a second as he uttered his name. it fit. sharp, clipped. like him—so far, at least. twitch didn’t bother offering hers right away. he hadn’t asked, and she didn't see much point.

but the silence stretched, awkward without any real acknowledgement, and after a beat, she huffed, rolling a shoulder in something half like a shrug.

"twitch." short. simple. fitting. same as his.

she shortens her stride when the land begins to dip and the treeline ends to give way to the sprawling meadow. steps carefully around slick mud before her paws reach grass again.

briggs’ ear flicked at the name. twitch.
he turned it over in his head, like a stone between his teeth, and came to the same conclusion he had the second she opened her mouth—weird fuckin’ kid.
twitch, he echoed, deadpan. what, you got somethin’ wrong with you?
he didn’t ask like he cared. just stated it, blunt as a blade, like he was trying to make sense of her existence.
his pace didn’t slow as the land dipped, though he did step where she stepped, careful over the mud—not because she had, but because he had no interest in slipping like some damn fool.
the meadow stretched before them, open and quiet.
fits, he muttered after a beat, though there was something almost begrudging about the way he said it. sharp. clipped. just like her.

twitch didn’t so much as flinch at the question. she didn’t feel the need to bristle at it; not when it was the truth. just huffed a sharp breath, a half-scoff, half-laugh. 

"prob’ly a couple things," she shrugged half-heartedly. no shame in it, really. everyone had their own problems. 

she stepped over a tangle of roots, quick-footed. the open stretch of meadow ahead made her stomach curl, instinct pulling at her to keep to the treeline, to the edges where she was harder to spot.

her anxiety diminished when she remembered the older man a few paces behind her. he was a good enough warning for anything that approached. she glancing once at him when at muttered that last part. a flick of her ear, quick, almost like she might’ve missed it. "..thanks. so does yours."

briggs didn’t stop walking, didn’t break stride, but his ear flicked at the thanks, like it was something foreign. unexpected.
he didn’t acknowledge it. not directly. just let out a low hum, something noncommittal, something that wasn’t quite agreement but wasn’t dismissal either.
"prob’ly a couple things."
yeah. no shit.
he watched as she skirted the meadow, instinct keeping her to the edges. smart. didn’t matter if it was caution or habit, it was the right call. he didn’t say anything about it, just kept pace, steady and unbothered.
when the treeline thickened again, swallowing the last of the open space behind them, he finally slowed, glancing at her sidelong.
don’t make a habit of followin’ strays, he muttered, though it was more for himself than her.
but he was here, wasn’t he?
without another word, he veered off, steps sure as he disappeared into the trees.

twitch didn’t stop him. didn’t call out, didn't turn back to follow him.

just watched, ears flicking as he melted into the trees, his heavy-footed stride quieter than she would’ve expected.

"yeah, well." she exhaled through her nose, sharp and short, a ghost of a laugh. 

as he left, so did she, slipping back into the shadows like she’d never been there at all.