Hideaway Strath IV

As he wisely avoided the congregated gazes before him, for a brief moment, Ego noticed the heavily scarred figure who stood aloof of them all. He tried not to feel envious of the wolf’s position, as he had found little use for any wishful thinking in his time wandering, and this time was no different. There were more pressing issues at hand, like the dynamics unfolding before him.

He glanced up as he saw his sister’s legs move first, sidling up to the brindled beast whose face he dared not observe. His ears flickered to catch her words, and he picked his head up slightly as she claimed him as her brother. Ego’s impassivity melted slightly as he gazed towards her, his breast swelling with pride and kinship.

He wanted desperately to be alone with her, have a proper reunion, but his next inhale was made cold by comparison, as the white viper of a she-wolf prowled closer. He couldn’t stop himself from looking surprised at her words, trying to reconcile them with what he thought he had known about Simmik’s pack life. The absolute lowest ranked here? Why would she rather live as an underappreciated grunt, than return to Stag and mother, or be on her own, as he had chosen? Had she turned out that differently from him? If he had been able to observe his sister’s facial expressions he could have guessed at an answer, but Ego felt only confused.

His expression hardened into a furrow, remaining silent. He was most aware of the pale dread’s nearness to him, but hers was a cool fury, languid and steady. It was nothing compared to the chaotic energy rolling off the hateful shade on his other side. She was too rigid, too manic with her focus. From the corner of his eye, he watched the dark shape of her until it became clear that she required his whole attention. Ego’s body stiffened when she turned on him.

He jerked backwards as the she-bitch lunged, and he felt her teeth clamp down millimeters from his flesh. The wyvern snarled in response, as the fur from the front of his right shoulder was essentially waxed off, leaving him with a noticeable bald spot. Had it not been for her crazed caterwauling, he might have not found himself so lucky, but as things were, Ego had been given enough warning to react in time to save his skin.

From the first bite, anyway.

The trigger-happy shadow, uncontrolled and in desperate need of a tighter leash, was not likely to let the loner escape from her that easily. Ego backpedaled, knowing that he was outnumbered, but reflex caused him to parry his attacker as he went, attempting to get away with the rest of his hide intact. Their teeth met in a vicious clash, before he felt his lip tear beneath her slicing teeth, even as he tried to tattoo her with his own fangs.

The only advantage he had, perhaps his only saving grace, was his size. She could not overpower him in any fast manner — not by herself — despite her wild aggression and potent desperation. And Ego’s will to live was much more powerful than her pathetically savage whims; even if she was quite a hellion to meet jaw-to-jaw.

Then, the wanderer felt, but did not see, a great force rushing forward. His instinct was to immediately detach, and risk an assault on his hindquarters to escape a killing dogpile, but as he wrenched himself away from the dark blight, he saw the thundering mutation take aim for the assailant instead. Ego absconded several bounds away from the crowd, carried by impulse and bleeding steadily at the mouth, but he paused to look back as his lizard brain flickered off long enough for him to realize he had been saved, not doubled down on.

Remaining half-cocked to take off, he looked for the source of strife among them, and found the young queen, Monarch, with his gaze of silvered-gold. He hesitated to leave. He knew he wanted her back, but what did she want? Her brother was no coward — he would stay, just to be near her, if he could — but was this a chance to be with her, or was it only a chance to save his own skin? Ego grimaced, waiting to find out.