Silvertip Mountain Trespass

The truth of it was was that Tartok was very much its own vessel. Left to its own devices, its requirements were that the wolves that carried the name practice and hone their skills of battle and maintain their physical shape so that it would be the best it could be. Siku was a wolf who was real and who was true, and who had given many a purpose. Tonravik was one of that number. She could not see survival wrong when her instincts demanded it of her and any other. The will to live prevailed. As wolves, that will was constantly challenged. Battles for territory, for game, for leftovers and scraps. Battles for mates, for rank, for procreation. Everything was a fight that one would prevail in. Those that bore the name Tartok were certainly not on the short end of the stick. They did more than merely survive. They lived, and lived well.

As he supplied her with his skills, she listened. She was pleased he did not merely leave it at hunting and tracking. She had her own nose and, including herself, four hunters that were more than adept. Not only that, but each of her wolves were brilliant fighters, trained well by their many months in Tartok. But that he was a strategist was good, and that he could navigate and guard mountains was good as well. Tonravik sought strength more than she did numbers. The agouti wolf before her seemed to have it, but he would be tested.

She would not yet reveal herself to him, or her packs name. Its ways, though, she could vaguely feed him. We do not tolerate the weak. Trespassers are rewarded with death, regardless of who they are. Our mountain is our mountain alone, we do not give tours and allow none safe passage or rest. Those that leave without word or given mission are hunted. Those that betray will find themselves without a tongue to speak against us again. Her dark eyes flashed. Tartok's laws were common sense that most other packs refused to follow. And if you are foolish enough to trespass into another packs territory, you are utterly at their mercy. There is no redemption for stupidity. Even Tartok wolves could be meant for death. Some that were believed bright could be truly arrogant. Tartok could not remove all of the weak, after all. But, of course, that pack would be sought quietly, hungrily, as they waited for it to make an error. Family was family. An eye was always taken for an eye.