messages

Steph you should plz tell me if Ton1 has any messages for Ton2 from Siku or other Tartok garrisons, k? :d

He had been sent away for a time; to spread the news of Tartok's newest stronghold. Tonraq would have rather stayed—his paws were well-traveled for one so young, even before making these latest strings of message-carrying—but he was nothing if not obedient, dutiful. Some might say he was weak-willed. He was not. He merely knew his place in the world, and accepted it. There was no use in challenging orders out of misplaced pride or inflated sense of entitlement.

But make no mistake; if he were ever challenged by a wolf lesser than he, there would be blood.

It would not be his.

As he travelled and the leaves began to change and then fall, rumors began to spread of a great famine. It did not bode well. His mission finished, and with the need to return to settlement before the winter struck hard and fast, Tonraq had begun the journey home. His lean, muscled form was used to functioning for long distances on small game alone; he did not suffer greatly from the thinning herds, which he would not be able to hunt on his own anyway. Even so, he did note their dwindling numbers with some apprehension.

A famine was a difficult blow for even the largest packs to deal with, and moreso for the small and less established. Tartok was strong and they would survive, he knew—but it would test them greatly.

At some point during his return travel, the dark male came across an abandoned carcass of a doe. She was thin, probably sickly near the end of her life, but there was still meat—relatively fresh and well-kept, too, thanks to the chilling weather. He did not scent other predators nearby—she must have died naturally, then—and so came close and began to eat the soft underbelly. When he had his fill, Tonraq tore through the backbone until the body was divided somewhat evenly.

Although he could see the mountain from here, it would take some time to drag the head-half back by himself—but it did not matter. If the famine had spread as far as Tonravik's command, they would need what meat they could salvage.

And so, by the time Tonraq halted at the borders of Silvertip Mountain, the prize he carried was several days old and somewhat battered, but still edible. He released the thin ankles from his jaws, and lifted his head to call for his leader.