Moonspear illulikpak ⇌

damn we kicking this  off good

The pale she-wolf’s advance – snapping teeth and anger – struck him. Atlas did not move against her, did not attempt to step aside to allow her advance to move past him. He was steadfast in his disinterest with her words.

That wolf spoke to him as though he did not know, as if he had not been one of the founding members of the glen. Atlas curled his lip, and a low growl was emitted from the deep boom in his throat. Still, he did not move from his post upon the mountain Moonspear.

All of her pride meant nothing to him when she had given it away. The words calling Moonspear a sacred place, that she would remove him with her hunters. Atlas laughed. It was a bitter, tired, and unhumorous sound. The hackles along his body bristled with indignation. How dare this nobody speak to him? Nuiruk was not Ostrega. She was not his kin. She was a stranger who had once had a glimpse into their lives and she had walked away from it without returning. She had built a foundation elsewhere.

Silence your tongue, woman of the moon. You and your hunters do not frighten me. You could not chase me from this mountain if your lives and wellbeing depended on it.

Atlas snapped his teeth.

Moonspear is mine.

The inkjet figure grew cold. His brow was knit above his eyes, his lips curled down in a deep frown.

You preach and preach of your sacred ties to my family. But where are they? Those Ostrega wolves that you knew? And where have you been in all this time? Not here. You should be ashamed to be so bold as to say that you are Ostrega, too. You are not. Not anymore.