Blackfoot Forest the woods are lonely, dark, and deep

Anyone. This is set during @Njal / @Echelon thread—so either someone can come meet a wild Tonravik, or this can be read only.

Tonravik did not reflect.

She was not about to start now.

There was no meaning to life, Tonravik understood. Nothing to do but leave whatever legacy you could. Tonravik knew two things: she would rule, and she would bear cubs. Tartok would continue in them, and her cubs would come to lead, and their legion would grow here as it had where her mother ruled and none would dare to face them. Although she had come with two, they had passed. Life was cruel, and the strong survived. They were strong wolves, certainly, but not strong enough to make it to the next day. Tonravik could only barely recognize this was no fault of their own, and in that recognition they kept the Tartok name in death. For they had fought to the last, and that... was the Tartok way.

The bear of a wolf lumbered forward, her eyes noting the trail of Echelon and Njal. She did not bother to follow their tracks, nor did she wonder at their return. They were pack, for the while. And Tartok did not abandon. Although Njal was Sveijarn, Tonravik did not doubt his loyalty to their course even despite his wariness.

Her dark eyes surveyed the snowy terrain around her, recognizing she had been here once before.

I just realized how far away this is, oops. I guess this can be set some indiscriminate place in my timeline. I don't know, haha. HI STEPH.

His trail led him further south than he had truly dared to venture before. There was much along the mountain range from where the Plateau lied that he did not know. There was much of the Wilds he had not ventured out into, so many nooks and crannies that he had not explored. It was hard, at least for the time being, for him to completely root himself with the wolves of the Plateau. Having only spent a fraction of his time outside of a pack since his departure from the Spine, the freedom and necessity to venture outward from a home base was one not easily conquered.

Not that he had any intentions of conquering it; Dante knew what he was up to. He had spent a few days lingering at the Plateau, trying to integrate himself. But he was also an explorer at heart. His findings, were there any, he had no qualms about sharing. It was part of what he needed to do to keep himself situated there. To see what the spring would bring and ultimately for himself, to see what he would do from there on out. As time went on, barring the pauses for breaks, he realized he had taken himself far out of the range of the Plateau.

But following the mountains had a certain allure to them, one in which he couldn't stray from. And truthfully, something drew him out there though he hadn't the faintest clue why. Some subconscious nagging, prompting him to spy out the vast terrain and territories that lied beyond what he knew. He had come this way once before, when he had left the Spine. That recollection came to him as he delved into the deep forest and was greeted by wolfish scents on the wind. He knew the memory well, pausing momentarily to think on Harlyn and then, how he wondered she fared.

It was interrupted though, as a dark figure began to emerge from the terrain ahead of him.

Hahaha I do that a lot <_________> HELLO KUMUBUTTS

The large woman pressed on through the wood, pausing here and there to sniff at the trees. There was nothing notable, nothing that interested her. She was not hungry enough to humor expending energy on hunting a hare, and so Tonravik was at a loss of what to do. Without a land of her own, there was little she could.

It was midday, and the Tartok woman moved along the line of crepuscular rays that filtered through the trees. The chill in the air did not bother the woman made for Winter, who preferred the cold to anything else in the world. Although she preferred keeping to the shadows due to the natural camouflage it afforded her, she moved that afternoon without regard of that. The forest was bare of most everything, company included.

Not that she needed it. Tonravik was not an entertainer by any means, or a conversationalist.

It was belatedly that Tonravik caught wind of the scent of male, and her head swung in the direction the breeze had brought it from. The wolf before her was one that she found substantial by means of appearance; he was not small or slight or lean, but neither was he bulky. Tall, but strong. Her ears are unmoving and perked, listening while she watched for any signs of aggression or interest more than, well, that of a wolf moving through. Tonravik herself expressed neither.

If he had been more sentimental, he may have compared her to a inverse color of Jinx. Large and undeniably proud, like an Amazon writ clean of a story. She was larger than he, though Mordecai was not a small creature by any means. He was travel worn still in spite of the Plateau's scent he bore, and forwardly curious. Somewhere in her watchful gaze, he saw a hardness that he could not place a thought to, but had seen before. She looked like someone with a story to tell, but not so keen on sharing it. There had been the fair share of those types at any hub of packs he had ventured in, out of, or by.

But the aggression she watched for would not come from him; instead, he merely gave a turn of his head to relay the curiosity that had begun to brew. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" he opted to ask, though he had no idea what kind of an answer he would get. If any — Mordecai had also met his fair share of wolves that wouldn't trade a word for anything. There was something dutiful about her that he could relate to and additionally, he wondered if he had come wandering in close into her territory.

Were she not intrigued by him a little, she might have left as soon as he spoke. Perhaps it was her impending heat that wanted to keep him close, or perhaps her desire to expand in general. Nothing, she answers in earnest, then, her tone cool. It was true, nothing had brought her out this far.

Tonravik continued to move in his direction, slowly but surely. Her eyes did not leave him, watching for any signs even still of irateness or aggression. She sought to smell him, of course; this was her norm. See where he had been, where he might return (pack wolf, lone wolf?), age. There was nothing to him that might insist to her he had a story to tell, though then again, if Tonravik saw herself she would think much the same and walk away. Tonravik was not perceptive that way.

SORRY I HAD TO EAT FOOD I WAS HUNGRY

He didn't believe that she had come there for nothing. The possibility of such would not occur to him. They all moved with some sort of purpose, even if they didn't know it, or at least that was what he wanted to believe. Either way, it presented the notion that she was most definitely a curious creature, even if she claimed there was nothing that had brought her into the cover of the woodland.

As she approached, Mordecai tensed at the encroachment about to occur. They paid well to be leery of one another, because at their most inner being they were wild animals. Territorial creatures. "You're rather interested in something for coming here over nothing," he said, making a guess. It was obvious she was curious of him now and that closeness allowed him to pluck any number of things from the air around them.

Tonravik paused in her approach at his words, thinking. Ah, she had nothing to say to that. She truly had not come out this far for any real reason at all. And she approached him to smell him, which Tonravik had thought evident. She could smell some things from a distance, but not the elaborate details of his life. Tonravik hated to ask, only because she hated to talk. It was unnecessary.

So she lowered her head and looked to him, her tail loosely arched near her hocks. Do you mind? I can approach? Interested? While it was too strong of a word, she would not correct him as it was pointless. What you could learn from a scent was invaluable. She hoped to pick him apart in this so as to gain from him. That she could ask aloud seemed lost to her. She was not verbose, and found her body language to be quite succinct.

hi my name is ku and i suck at playing a wolf on wolf for reals

She offered him no verbal reply and her approach stopped. A lingering note crept steadily into her features and within it, he found the permission she was seeking. He idled on a response, for a moment wondering what he would get out of it other than the same thing as she would. And that in itself was enough for him to give consent for her to approach. Only he did the approaching this time, first extending his muzzle out towards her dark figure to draw in the musky smells that were there. If she was merely inquiring to spring a trap on him, now would have been the perfect time to do so; Mordecai was bold in giving her consent by taking the initiative.

u r a great woof

Tonravik watched as he moved toward her, and went rigid for a moment, muzzle dipping over her throat and ears flattening on her head in case he made a move for one. But as he snuffled around, Tonravik too did the same, only up until he neared her rear. Given she could not immediately protect herself in that vicinity, she bolted forth quickly and bore her fangs when turning around. Tonravik was quick to relax, however; had he of meant harm, he surely would have when given the opportunity.

An ear flicked as she looked to him. He was alone. Perhaps he preferred to keep it that way. He was strong and sturdy and lacked any sort of desperation... from that, Tonravik had still earned very little more information. In fact, he probably had learned more. Like the fact that she did not travel alone. Tonravik blinked at him, then looked into the distance. Her interest was still there, but limited; but she was bad at these things, lacking any sort of social manners there ever were. At the same token, it did not appear she had any desire to learn them.

She would not allow him to be enticed in any sort of manner; her bolting away with a snarl did not startle him, nor did it provoke ire in his response. Instead his ears slicked back against his skull. He meant her no harm and to some degree, did not understand the ferocity that came boiling from within her. Nor, he realized, did he care to know either. Whatever had interested him for however briefly passed. It revealed plenty, but nothing he took under consideration here; it would be saved for later.

"So," he said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them. "Did you really come here for nothing? Or are you looking for something?" She had seemed interested in checking him out close up, foregoing any sense of personal space. And she hadn't liked the response he had given her. But it was clear she had been on her own for some length, yet sufficient in staying alive all the same. Much like himself.

Tonravik was going through a strange time where she wanted someone close, and also did not. Unsure of this, she just went with it, unperturbed. The woman half-expected him to leave her to her own devices, but he remained. This was curious, too.

Tracking. Getting to know the land... Tonravik paused and looked to him at last. Its strengths and weaknesses. Tonravik shrugged, and moved in a slight arc so that she faced him again. Headed to the glacier. She gestured to it, but her eyes did not leave him. Perhaps he had news of the place.

Her words were few, but they revealed much more to him that left him slightly intrigued. If he didn't know any better, he was willing to bet she was out there trying to seek a claim for herself. There was something in her personality that suggested such, which probably explained a lot of why they were on some sort of even keel with one another. The same thought had occurred to Mordecai more than once. Once before he left the Spine and again after he had. But for now, the Ostrega was not so inclined to act on it. Winter was still lingering, he wanted to be sure that it was gone before he considered moving on any of his options.

"Glacier?" he prompted however, curious of that particular landmass. It rang a distant bell for him, though he couldn't remember why. Perhaps someone had told him about it, or maybe there was a pack there. Or maybe there had been a pack there. Either way, she had his attention fully. "Sounds like a cold place to venture. I don't think there's any around here." Perhaps further north, yes, but there? Mordecai had never seen a glacier anywhere along the mountain range they stood at the tail end of.

It was her ultimate plan to do this, he was quite smart. But the clan of Tartok were a secretive lot in themselves. That, and he did not ask of future plans so she did not think of them immediately. Tonravik took everything at face value. His prompting was met with a blink, and his statements another. It was not visible from here, it was such a distance.

So, she supposed he was right; Tonravik nodded. Further off, she corrected then, licking her chops. You? What had he been doing, then? He did not know of the glacier, and, well, perhaps he had ambitions himself. Tonravik did not think of her ambitions in this dismal wood... she thought of Echelon and Njal and their inevitable departure. But primarily, now, she thought of the wolf before her.

fml i am so ready for a nap right now :C

His assumptions had been right; the glacier lied much further away than he could have anticipated. Though further was a bit on the vague side of things, he knew it wasn't anywhere close. If had been, he supposed he would have seen it when he had gone north. Little did he know, he had passed well by it on his way out of the Wilds altogether, and that his northerly direction had been a bit more easterly by far.

"Exploring," he said, only to rehash his own statement. "Tracking the herds as well." If there was any notion then that he was a pack wolf, he probably confirmed it. But at least now he had nurtured a little bit of conversation out of her. Even if all he received were clipped statements, he'd take them. She was an interesting sort. "What's your name?"

CLINGS

Which pack is yours? she asks with the tilt of her head after his statement; certainly this man belonged to pack, with the myriad of scents upon him. But his appearance did not suit the role follower to her, and so she assumed aloud that he led. His question was met with a blink. She did not have it in her to lie, or to make up a disguise, and so she responds: Tonravik.

She is expectant that he would give his own name, never did she truly have to ask. Perhaps her expectant look might hint as much, but one could never be sure; for Tonravik was no clairvoyant herself, but her gestures spoke louder and often said more than her words ever would/could.

more fml, i pulled a muscle in my bicep the other day and it's really starting to hurt omg.

Likewise, his misunderstanding of her question did not bring him to think that she thought he led somewhere. Instead, he assumed she meant where he resided and thusly, answered accordingly. "Blacktail Deer Plateau, to the west along these mountains." Her interjection of the question did not deter him and he followed up with his own name. "And I'm Mordecai." It only seemed fair, since he had asked for the introduction to begin with. From that, he couldn't have said what he made of Tonravik, other than perhaps she was an intriguing individual. For her size, she did not come across as surly, as he would have possibly expected from her demeanor alone.

"Have you been there? To the plateau," he went on to ask, clarifying as though it were necessary.

is there anything you can do for that? how do you feel today??

Her eyes flit toward the row of mountains—her territory of preference—as he mentioned them, though then turned back to him. Mordecai. The name itself was a strong one... and Tonravik did put plenty of stock into names. Mordecai, alpha male of the Plateau. Tonravik had no bad temper to speak of, but others hardly described her as friendly just as well.

His question was met with a firm shake of her head, no. You have not led them long, for surely if he had, he would know whether or not she had visited. He would have heard of any visitors, as a leader ought to know of them.

It's better now, but now my head hurts haha. Change of the season always makes me feel crummy. But dem warmer temps, omgggg.

Her next statement tickled at a sense of mirth in him, to think that she thought he led the wolves there. Mordecai had led once before, but no more. Yet the traces of such had impacted his own demeanor and for now, were left there unquestionably. He made no move to hide them, as he could not conceal who he was or what he had been apart of. Or even, what he had done in the past. In a way, none of them could possibly do such a thing.

"Because I don't lead them," he quipped in response, revealing his parting amusement with her summary of him. And as far as he was concerned, he would not feel it necessary to take led of them. He trusted Dante and so far, that trust had not betrayed him. All things considered, the Plateau was thriving quite well, and easily.

Tonravik was surprised to hear this, and did not note the tone of amusement that was laced in his words. Tonravik knew very little of him, and what she had garnered had been wrong. Although this frustrated her, that was not revealed. An ear flicked atop her head and she is silent in response, though it did not take a clairvoyant to know that in this moment, she is thoughtful. It was her turn to be curious of him, but she never did know the right things to say or ask.

So, she settled with the silence she was all too comfortable with for the moment. Finding the desire to be right in something, Tonravik tilts her head slightly, deciding to conclude of him that: You have led, once, somewhere, It was his confidence in asking her what he would that led her to believe this. Not many had the stuff to ask her much of anything. Though then again, Tonravik was oddly... open today.

Aware of her probing, perhaps on some subconscious level of her necessity to be right about something, Mordecai discovered that he stonewalled her. "What makes you say that?" But it was an innate wonder — what was it about him that drew others to fill in those blanks in his past? He never thought of himself as a leader; he had always been the traveler. Though the paths were long and many, Mordecai had always come from somewhere else. Yet even that harkened back upon lore of old, as it had been his father that had stated that sometimes, they were suited for leadership for as much as they were wanderlust.

Though to an extent, he supposed he could have said the same about her. She reminded him of Jinx.

Your questions, It was less that and more of his pressing in his asking her, particularly the first few. Tonravik herself typically would snap at his probing and stalk off, but he had caught her during a strange time. Tonravik was unable to articulate just what it was about his questions that made her think this, so there were many conclusions Mordecai could come to about her. The truth of it was no one asked Tonravik much of anything, because she could only tolerate those that she wanted to tolerate. Truth be told, that was no one but Tartok. But he reminded her, somehow, of home. It was more of his stature than his wordiness (more wordy than others were toward her thus far), but she could not say she disliked it.

So then she waited for his response, his yes, you're right or else a disappointing no. The fact that he did not outright deny her led her to believe that yes, she was correct.

She had him there. He hadn't considered whether or not his own questions gave away what his status may or may not have been. But when that was put into the spotlight it became very clear, and came very sudden. A waning smile pressed into his features; minor admittence without saying that she had been right all along.

"I did once, but no more." He felt that sufficient enough to answer what she had previously asked. The Spine was behind him now, and the thoughts of settling elsewhere, however prominent or not they were, surfaced briefly. But Mordecai found he was not inclined to give up his freedoms for the self-imposed chains that leadership and claims were all about. At least, he wasn't inclined to do them in any traditional sense.

"What about you, is that glacier you spoke of yours?"

Tonravik felt victorious when finally she had pinpointed something right about him. She hadn't been all wrong, then. Tonravik knew well enough that those who led could not always stay long beneath the fist of another. It was by no fault of their leader, but instinct. And instinct could never be denied. One lived and died by it.

So she simply nods, hearing him, but also imagining no more would not be for very long.

His question was one she took well to. But she shakes her head. No, she did not lead this glacier. Still, Tonravik does not mind giving him what he gave her, I have not followed before. But I will try, she had been through much the past couple of weeks that at the very least, she was willing; truly a first, since her childhood.

Not surprising was the unspoken admittance that she was a leader. Perhaps not of that glacier, but a formidable creature all the same. Her size was not just a suggestion; it embodied often what made leaders from followers. In a way, he supposed he could have related to her talk of trying to follow. He had certainly tried to follow Ptarmigan, tried to smooth things between all of them. And it had been for naught; Mordecai was not much of an adviser, though he still made feeble attempts all the same. And now, he answered to Dante. While it was an awkward union, he found it easier to relate to his friend and the position that he found himself in.

But he truly had nothing to offer her, no suggestion that would have helped her follow, as she had put it. He considered probing, wondering why it was that she felt it necessary to follow, but went against it. He had his turn with it and subsequently, felt little need to persist. Instead, he offered words to keep the silence between them at bay. "I guess this is the part where I tell you good luck, isn't it?"

His words were met at first with silence as she wondered. Was it? Her dark eyes remained on him, and she asks, Or perhaps where we go conquer our own piece of land. A savage grin comes across her features, only half-serious; but she would come to find upon entering the glacier that old habits died hard. Tonravik was far from optimistic now, but she wondered how he would take this statement.

Her ears perked, and Tonravik did not once look away. She studied his countenance for anything that might betray his interest or lack thereof, drinking in a deep amount of cold air. There was nothing in either of them to suggest their interest in resuming their former roles up until she said these words; Tonravik had her own doubts in being any wolves subordinate. Tonravik of course thought of Njal; could she betray him in this way? No, she was a woman of her word. Tonravik would go to this glacier first and foremost. But her interest in Mordecai was one she sought to figure out.