Dawnlark Plains η

faust stood, shoulders squared and cold as the glacier beneath their paws. the back and forth of their words meant little to him—talk of trade, of peace, of alliances forged on brittle ice. he did not want it. did not trust it. too many mouths speaking at once. too many men he did not know, whose eyes wandered where they shouldn't.
his gaze swept across the gathered. scores of wolves, all eager to hammer something from the air. but faust? faust remained stone.
no trade, he said at last, voice low and unbothered, as if the weight of the meeting bored him more than angered him. i owe nothing.
but a hunt—yes. that, at least, was honest. fangs in flesh. sweat on snow. blood in the drift.
he gave skorpa a passing glance, something like reluctant agreement flickering behind the steel of his eyes. we hunt. fine. meat is meat.
then, to the others: keep your tongues and keep your peace. after that, go home.
faust turned from them, his tail high and stiff, already leading into the frost without waiting to see if they followed. let them prove themselves by claw and kill, or not at all.

darukaal did not care for the reeking man of the mountain. this they shared in common, though he did enjoy the look of both wives there in the snow, beautiful and flush with life. darukaal had no such display; either they kept their women back or they had no women.

such things only required a raid.

star eater spoke; lanzadoii man stood silent in pride, trusting that she would translate truly for the saatsine. blood-caked wolf tried at common, his accent bringing reason for the chieftain to feel further mockery.

he did not understand, however, why the man faust denied trade, or thought of it as owing. what did the glacier have? what might they need? what did the mountain want? the fast-moving legs of the sun clan reduced their need for that which must be carried. this was an advantage not shared by the other bands here in the taiga.

it seemed they would hunt. prideful, assured of his ability among all those assembled, sun eater moved off to join the stinking stone and the man who did not want more for his wolves.

a tense, odd alliance.

keep your tongues. iosef would exhale a huff in irate, but he would say nothing more. there was no use in wasting words that would fall upon deaf ears, and no use spilling blood when his baskaan did not demand it. 

the alliance was a joke. there was something left unsaid, hidden in the shifting eyes and foreign tongues. a heavy tension drifted to lay itself across the group, so tangible he could reach out and sink his fangs into it. he would speak with faust when they were alone; warn him that this alliance would only end in bloodshed and betrayal. 

his heavy steps quicken to meet faust's. falling in line beside him, marching toward the open tundra where they would kill in the name of his alliance. brooding eyes shaded with his doubt and reluctance.

last for me, thanks so much all!

Saatsine agrees. Ayovi's smile broadens for the silver woman, a cordial head dipping for her and the chieftain she translates for.
Faust refuses, and the huntress cannot help but wonder if he is only contrarian for the sake of it. This was an agreement that would lift his tribe, secure the entire taiga if each clan kept to their word. It is the thinnest of agreements, for the Ashēeran would have demanded  a marriage alliance between sons of one house and titled persons of another. They would have intended for two packs to meld and become one in this way. Without blood, trade and common courtesy was all they had to cement goodwill between them.
But there was nothing more to be said as members of Darukaal and Saatsine fell into hunter’s tread, and she supposed they are not without some small bud of success.
Her gaze shifts to Skorpa. In it, the barrage of every unvoiced emotion. Then she too takes to the grazing plains.